A head-splitting headache tormented me while the most I could do was drool out of my mouth, leaning onto the hard wooden desk, countless textbooks lying by my side.
My fingers danced through countless pages, my eyes simply absorbing every letter, number, and piece of knowledge.
[Record] 1/4
The numbers glowed faintly… the skill was causing me to feel a backlash from the unsupportable weight of data being consumed by my mind akin to a sponge.
The ability to absorb knowledge at an accelerated rate, to read and comprehend with terrifying efficiency.
The equations in the math book next to me, once incomprehensible, now made perfect sense.
Dates and events from history textbooks that had always seemed jumbled in my mind were now crystal clear.
()
But aside from my mind processing the information, something else caught my attention: the now borderline-hated window flashing its blue light as if mocking me.
It shone in my face, but for the first time, what I saw didn't seem like a grave setback.
[Intelligence - 10 —> 11]
My intelligence had grown by a single point, and the moment that notification appeared, the pain subsided.
The skull-splitting headache no longer felt like torment, more like a minor pulsing pain, but as the minutes passed, the pain diminished even further.
Just this one point felt like it had unlocked more capacity for absorbing the knowledge this world had in store for me.
For the first time since waking up after my death, I felt like my progress hadn't been in vain.
'You're finally serving your purpose, you jumbled piece of fucking trash code, the ones that wrote you are both fucking idiotic...' Stay calm, no more cursing.
Well, it's not like I could just stop over time, even after Eve drilled it into me...
But now that I'm back and my dad hasn't changed a bit, I'm bound to slip back into my old way of speaking.
Thinking of him, I glanced up at the clock hanging above me, precariously suspended from a nail my father had hammered into the stone wall.
It showed exactly 8 o'clock, the time we usually had dinner had already passed.
With that thought—and the sound of my grumbling stomach reminding me that food was overdue—I headed downstairs.
As soon as I opened the door, my nostrils were hit with the aroma of dinner, but before I could take it in fully, I was met with a strange sight and then a blood-curdling scream.
"Fuuuuck!"
With that scream, I could've sworn I heard a bone snap. Well, maybe it did—wouldn't surprise me at all.
As I came down, two pairs of eyes, locked in an intense stare like predators fighting for territory, shifted their gaze to me, hunched over the large table.
My brother and my father were in the middle of an intense arm-wrestling match, one that Aiden had just lost—brutally. Not surprising, given our father was built like a wardrobe.
It was never a fair matchup for Aiden, but that never stopped him from trying.
"Language, kiddo!" Dad remarked, giving Aiden a light tap on the head while grinning viciously.
"How come you two didn't call me?"
It wasn't fair—they had already devoured their portions of food, yet I hadn't even been called, and here they were playing in the living room.
What kind of treachery was this?
"We did, but you never answered. When we went up, you were so buried in your books you didn't even notice us."
…
"Oh... sorry about that."
Damn it, I would have known if they called me. It seems like using "record" has its own drawbacks—one of them being that I'm barely conscious while absorbing knowledge.
That could very well be a side effect, or maybe something that will pass once the skill develops further, though I have no idea how that'll happen.
Or there's the possibility they called me after the headaches started…
Anyway, I'll have to test it later.
"Sorry for the wait, I'm done studying for today."
"Ah, okay. Don't worry, the food should still be warm, or you can heat it up on the stove if you want," my father shrugged as he got up from the table, much to Aiden's frustration.
"Why are you leaving, old bastard? We still have a score to settle!"
"What score? Even on my deathbed, I could squash you like a bug. Know your place, kiddo!" Dad flexed his muscles, then flipped off Aiden before heading toward the washroom—probably for a shower.
Normally, this was early for him, but he was clearly planning to sleep soon if he wanted to handle two jobs at once.
To be honest, I was still surprised he was home this early, but I didn't bother asking why. I was just happy.
Time was running out before the catastrophe, and I had to speed up my preparations if I wanted to help him out.
()
With him gone, I sat down in front of an already prepared portion of lamb shanks in cranberry sauce.
It felt like an over-the-top dinner, but I wasn't about to complain about eating such delicacies.
The food hadn't cooled completely, still releasing warm vapors with a fragrance so heavenly my mouth immediately started watering.
To my right, Aiden seemed to be eyeing a second serving.
"You shouldn't."
"Why not?" Aiden suddenly looked serious at my grave-sounding tone.
"You're already fat."
"Fuck off, I'm built like a statue of a Greek god."
"Narcissistic much?"
"I wouldn't talk with a face as ordinary as yours, at least I have my reasons for acting like this."
"The fuck did you just say to me? As your older brother, I demand an apology right this instant."
"Shut the fuck up. You can't hold that over me our whole lives. You're older by fifteen minutes—being shat into the world first isn't an achievement."
...
Not gonna lie, I couldn't come up with a response to that, the second best course of action was punching him. But I didn't have to, because the next second, we heard the low growl of a bear.
"Shut up and eat already!"
"Yes, sir," we both replied in unison before diving into the food in front of us.
Biting into the lamb in front of me, the taste matched the smell—simply heavenly. Nothing else could do it justice.
In less than a minute, both of us had devoured the hearty portions. It was so good that I felt oddly sentimental; cooking it myself had never brought this kind of warmth or flavor.
Letting out a sigh, I stood up, grabbed my plate and silverware, and started washing the dishes, while my brother ditched me, leaving his own dirty plate behind.
Like a barbarian. At least wash your own plate, you bastard.
Once I finished, I dried my hands and headed back upstairs to my room. The only thing left for me to do was practice my acting skills.
As I entered my room, my attention immediately shifted to my bed.
"If I go to sleep now..." I felt suffocated like the air was being sucked from my lungs.
"Am I going to wake up?"
Maybe this is all just a terrible, terrible dream that I'll wake up from.
But wake up where?
When did the nightmare even begin?
Or is it just my life itself?
Is this all just a wretched lie, right?
I glanced at the crumpled stack of papers—the script I had read through countless times.
My head still ached from the textbooks. The knowledge, the pain... they have to be real.
I know what I know. I feel what I feel.
This can't be fake.
No matter how much I try to convince myself that I'll wake up in my office and meet up with my kids, it's not going to happen, is it?
Of course, it won't…
I will wake up in this bed, in this house, in this world.
My hands moved on their own while my mind drifted somewhere else entirely.
I cursed my fate as I mechanically prepared to take a shower, but my eyelids started to feel unbearably heavy.
I was exhausted—maybe an aftereffect of the Record skill, maybe the stress. Maybe... at this point, I didn't even care.
I didn't fight the sleepiness. I let my eyes close.
No matter where I woke up tomorrow, I was ready. Whether it was this world or my own, I'd manage.
I was drifting to sleep, but just before my eyes fully closed, a low pinging sound reached my ears, and the familiar blue light of the screen appeared in front of me.
But it didn't matter—I fell asleep right then.
...
...
...
What the hell is going on now?