The sky slowly turned dark. He sat on a bench while munching on his apple. His body glittered with the evening glow, and he could see the sunset from here. It was a nice view from here.
Right after the last bite, he threw the remaining apple into the trash bin nearby. Fortunately, it went in.
He could see people come in and out of the building behind him. The building, which is four stories tall with the colour pastel blue two levels below and pastel pink two levels up, specifies where the female dormitory is and where the boy dormitory is.
Some girls sent him a glance once in a while, and most of them whispered to each other when they saw him. Some of them also waved their hands at him, but he just smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement.
They squealed even with that gesture from him. He frowned slightly.
'That's why I don't really want to come here.'
Some boys saw him either bowing out of respect or glaring at him. He scoffed at the latter. Such childish antics from the newbie
"Brother."
He perked his head up when he heard the voice. He saw his younger sister, Raisa, come from inside the building with someone he was familiar with.
"Raisa. You're late."
"I'm on time. You're just too early."
The pink-haired girl crossed her arms while looking at her brother.
"Good evening, young master Nuribenstin."
Rezal stood up and bowed slightly.
"Good evening to you too, Your Highness. It has been long since we met."
"It is. I'm glad you're doing fine. But please call me by my name; we are not in the palace."
"Well then, please do the same, Lady Nasharis."
"Of course, Young Master Rezal."
"Stop flirting in front of me."
Both teenagers deadpanned while looking at the pink-haired girl. They ignored her comment.
"So why is it so urgent for me to meet you at this time?"
Rezal did not beat around the bush and asked his inquiry, taking out the envelope from his pocket before he shook it.
"Also using our emblem."
"You wouldn't come if I didn't use it."
He shrugged. Well, the worst he could do was toss the letter in a trash can or give it to his roommate. Another way is that he would agree to meet her, but he would be late by at least two hours.
He is a busy man.
"What is it?"
"Father is worried."
Rezal frowned.
"There's nothing to be worried about. Tell father I'm fine."
"Could you at least meet him once?"
"I'm busy."
"Doing what?! You didn't come home at all these past years! At least reply to father's letter!"
"It's none of your business, Raisa. It's pointless meeting you here. I'll go back now."
Rezal walked away.
"Brother, stop blaming yourself!"
He didn't stop.
"You've been pushing yourself too hard. What do you even want to achieve? What exactly do you want to be? Until you collapsed almost every week!"
Some people began to stop and take a look.
"Brother! Father and mother are worried! I am worried! Just stop whatever you are doing and stop harming yourself!"
Rezal's frown deepened. He turned a deaf ear to everything his sister said to him.
"He wouldn't come back regardless of all you did!"
He stopped, his hands clenched by his side. He turned his head at Raisa.
"Shut up. If not, I won't be meeting you again, Raisa."
Raisa bit her lower lips. Rezal glanced at Nasharis, who was holding her hands together. It looked more like her right hand was holding onto her left hand, which lacked a finger. Her gaze was fixed on him.
"I know it's pointless. But there's nothing I can do."
He turned back and continued walking back to his dorm building. He didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention in the first-year dormitory. It would be bad for Raisa and Nasharis.
He looked straight ahead with a frown.
"I know."
He gritted his teeth, recalling the time he received the news. His coping mechanism is training. He trained and trained and trained to occupy his mind. The blood is fresh in his mind. The smell he can't erase from his memory.
He didn't come home at all, didn't meet his family for the past few years, and didn't reply to their letters. He is afraid he will become vulnerable again if he goes back home, looking at his parents and recalling his susceptibility, confining himself in his room without any sunlight or the will to eat.
He is afraid—terrified, even. The despair he felt at that time was unbearable, something he had never felt before. Is that how you would feel if you lost someone precious to you? Is that how you would crumble if you were too weak to protect a valuable person to you?
Rezal learned it in a hard and brutal way. He blamed himself because he was weak. He blamed himself because he was too late and succumbed to his terror.
That's why he would change. He can't be weak, he can't be vulnerable, and he can't lose anyone again. Not again, no one again. He vowed to himself that he would protect everyone in Michaelis' state. He will, and he needed to be stronger than anyone for that to happen.
Based on the information he was given, there are two kidnappers, one of whom is already dead. The one kidnapper was still out there, roaming freely outside.
It is outrageous.
Rezal can't accept this absurdity. His friend died, and the kidnapper was out there living. He will kill that kidnapper with his own hands. He will search for him and avenge his friend.
That's why he can't stop training and investigating. He also didn't want to let anyone know because he knew they would object to his decision. He had been investigating stealthily without his father's knowledge.
He will succeed and kill that man. By fair means or foul.
A sinister ambience surrounds him.
×××××
He frowned even deeper, bringing the item in his hand back and forth from his face and squinting his eyes.
He touched his hair and face before he pinched his cheek. But he let out a hiss when he unintentionally touched some burned skin on his face.
"Quit looking at the mirror already."
The hazel eyes met the green ones before the former turned back to look at the hand mirror in his hand.
He touched his strand of hair with his fingers and felt the slight roughness of the hair. He had just unwrapped the bandages around his head with the help of Sora. He was surprised when he saw the strand of hair that fell in front of his eyes, and he quickly demanded a mirror.
"I'm becoming old."
"Excuse me?"
"But I have a young face."
Michael was still touching his now-white hair with an unbelievable look on his face and looking at the mirror to see his reflection, which reflected a younger and foreign face.
"Hmm, I think I understand your situation."
Sora flicked his fingers.
"There are two types of isekai I used to read."
'Isekai?' Michael tilted his head—a new word for him.
"One, the body, and the soul travelled into another world at the same time. I am an example. You could say that I actually suddenly came here without any preparation or notice. Of course, I was terrified at first, but I'm better now."
'Ho, so isekai means another world. Sora was sent into this world suddenly. How long has he lived here? He looked adaptable.'
"Second, only the soul crossed the world. This second type has two subtypes: the first is reincarnation, and the second is transmigration."
Sora pulled out two fingers.
"Just like the term reincarnation, it is basically reborn, but with memories or without them. It means that it's your body in this new life. The complicated one for me is transmigration."
Michael listened attentively.
"Transmigration is when a soul moves into another body without dying; it is different from reincarnation. You could say that the soul from your former body jumped into this new body, which would mean your former body might be alive in your world; that's just an assumption. It could also mean the soul in this body might have died or exchanged with yours, so the soul in this body might occupy your body now in your world. Or, the soul in this body is still inside but was trapped."
Sora continued ecstatically.
"And for additional information, transmigration could occur not just in the human body; your soul could also pass into an animal or inanimate object like a sword."
Sora clapped his hands once.
"So, your situation is the second one, I believe. I can't prove my theory, but if you can't remember anything but your past life, it means that you have transmigrated here. But you could also reincarnate, but you forget your memory when you're in this world because of the incident that turned you up in this state."
Sora scratched his head when he got no response from Michael.
"It was just what I knew. Don't dwell too much on it. You might have a headache."
"How long have you been here?"
"Hm? Ha, I was sent here when I was in high school."
Sora murmured slowly, but Michael could hear him.
"So, I've been here for almost six years. Hm yes."
'Six years—that could mean Sora is still in his early twenties. Heh, I'm older.'
A sudden smugness emerged within him when he knew that he was older and put aside his younger-looking face. He is mentally older than Sora nonetheless.
'I could be alive if someone saw I jumped in the sea and managed to save me; maybe I'm in a coma. Or I really die and was reborn? Just as Sora said, I might have forgotten my memory here because of whatever happened to me.'
He inspected his bandaged body. It was a terrible incident based on his injury. It was more likely that he was left alone after the incident. There is no way he could move into this forest alone, or maybe he actually is.
He might have moved, to avoid whatever incident happened to him, into this forest and collapsed there. So, he must have run away then. Someone, or he himself, is the one who caused this injury. Someone might have actually targeted him and wanted him dead.
The possibility is there. Should he find out his identity here? He might get killed again if someone who knew him finds him.
It's not like he was bothered by it. He just hoped they would not burn him like this again, if possible. A fast, painless death is highly encouraged.
"I will pay you back."
"Hm?"
Sora tilted his head.
"I'll pay you back for the time you spend taking care of me."
"Actually, you don't—"
"In return, please let me stay with you until I know what happened to me."
Michael bowed his head a little. If he wanted to know who he was in this world, he needed someone who could protect him from harm and a trustworthy one at that.