After enduring another round of nagging from the doctor, Alex finally returned home, the evening sky casting long shadows over the quiet streets. The soft creak of the door echoed through the empty house as he stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. The familiar silence of the place was almost comforting, yet it carried a weight that pressed against his chest.
He let out a long sigh and tossed his bag aside before making his way to the small kitchen. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, with only the ticking of a clock echoing through the stillness. It had always been like this lately—just him and Alexius, the two of them navigating through a world that felt increasingly alien.
As he sat down at the worn kitchen table, his eyes fell on the small leather-bound journal lying on its surface. The edges of the pages were worn from frequent use, and he found himself tracing the faded lines of its cover absentmindedly. His journal had become a sanctuary for his thoughts—scribbled entries filled with everything from strategy notes to fleeting memories of a life he'd once led on Earth.
Opening it to a blank page, Alex twirled a pen between his fingers but didn't write anything just yet. He stared down at the page, lost in thought. This new life—this chance he'd been given—it still felt surreal sometimes. Reincarnation, regression, gods and monsters, aliens—it was a reality he never could have imagined back on Earth, and yet it was his now.
And then there was Alexius. He clenched the pen tighter as his thoughts drifted toward the cat who'd given him this burden, this new existence. He still resented Alexius for choosing him, for dragging him into this world and thrusting responsibilities on his shoulders that felt far too heavy for a ten-year-old boy to bear, even with the memories of another life.
But beneath the resentment, there was something else—a small flicker of gratitude that Alex couldn't ignore. Despite everything, despite the chaos and confusion and danger, Alexius had given him hope. Hope for something beyond the dull repetition of a life he hadn't chosen. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he could carve out a new path for himself.
He closed the journal and leaned back in his chair, letting his eyes wander across the dimly lit room. His mind was a swirling mess of thoughts—about Kael's ultimatum, about the Lunatic's followers, about the constant danger that seemed to loom over him like a shadow.
As if sensing the shift in his mood, Alexius padded silently into the room, his feline form sleek and graceful as he jumped onto the table. He sat down neatly, curling his tail around his paws as his golden eyes studied Alex.
"You're deep in thought again," Alexius remarked, his voice carrying a quiet amusement.
Alex exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I've got a lot on my mind."
Alexius tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if gauging Alex's emotions. "Still thinking about Kael's offer?"
"It wasn't an offer," Alex muttered. "It was more of a threat."
Alexius hopped down from the table and walked in circles before finally curling up on Alex's lap. He let out a soft purr, which Alex had learned was more for his own amusement than comfort. Alexius was a strange creature—sometimes cold and distant, sometimes affectionate in his own peculiar way.
"You know," Alexius said after a moment of silence, "Kael isn't wrong. Going to the North Continent is probably the best option for you."
Alex looked down at the cat, narrowing his eyes. "I thought you'd be the last one to suggest that."
"I'm just being practical," Alexius replied smoothly. "You're not exactly in a position to take on the full force of the Lunatic's followers, or any other threat that's waiting out there. Not yet, anyway."
Alex frowned, his hand absentmindedly stroking Alexius's fur. "I can't just run away. I've already been dragged into this mess. What good would hiding do?"
"It's not about hiding," Alexius said, his voice surprisingly soft. "It's about surviving. You're strong, Alex, but strength alone won't be enough if you stay here. The Lunatic is interested in you. They've already made a move. And if you stay, they'll come again."
"So what?" Alex asked bitterly. "I'll just run every time things get hard? That's not who I am."
Alexius let out a small sigh, his body rising and falling with each breath. "No, it's not. But you have to think long-term. The North Continent isn't just a place to lay low—it's a place to train, to prepare. You could become stronger there, stronger than you can here."
Alex fell silent, his hand stilling on Alexius's fur. He knew what Alexius was saying was true, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. He had always been the type to face his problems head-on, no matter how daunting they were. The idea of retreating, of waiting in the shadows until he was "ready," felt like giving up.
But then he thought of the explosion, of the lives that had been lost because of the Lunatic's actions. He thought of the people with crimson masks, the chaos that had unfolded, and the monster that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He thought of how powerless he had felt in that moment, even with his training and his memories of another life.
Perhaps, for now, it wasn't about giving up. Perhaps it was about getting smarter, about playing the long game.
"Maybe you're right," Alex finally admitted, his voice quiet. "But it doesn't feel right."
Alexius lifted his head, his golden eyes gleaming with something close to approval. "You don't have to like it. You just have to do what's necessary."
Alex leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting toward the window. The night was dark, the stars hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. He felt a heaviness in his chest, the weight of the choices he was facing pressing down on him.
"Necessary, huh?" Alex murmured.
Alexius curled tighter against him, his purring growing louder. "We all have to make sacrifices, Alex. You're no different."
Alex stared out into the night, feeling the burden of his new life settle over him once more. But this time, it didn't feel as suffocating. It felt like a challenge—a challenge he could meet, as long as he played his cards right.
With a sigh, Alex closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off, the soft warmth of Alexius against him the only comfort in the otherwise cold and uncertain world that awaited them both.
*****
The invitation to the Elmiane family's private orchestra performance had been unexpected, but Seraphina had easily convinced Alex to attend. The Elmianes were highly respected within the Hunter Association, and Natalia's parents rarely extended such invitations, especially to someone like him. It felt like an obligation to accept.
Natalia remained silent during the drive to the concert hall, her gaze fixed out the window. Her expression was as unreadable as ever, and though her quiet presence was oddly comforting, it was clear she wasn't in the mood for small talk.
As they entered the grand hall, Alex felt out of place amidst the splendor of the Elmianes. They were a picture of elegance, and he couldn't help but feel somewhat underdressed in their company. But he kept his expression calm, hiding his discomfort as he always did. Natalia, barely acknowledging him, led the way to their seats near the front.
The performance began with the "Egmont Overture, Op. 84," a dramatic and stirring opening that sent ripples of excitement through the audience. The overture's tension and release felt like the perfect start to the evening, and for a brief moment, Alex allowed himself to be swept up in the music.
But just as the overture reached its crescendo, a blue glow appeared in the corner of his vision. At first, Alex thought it was just a reflection from the chandeliers above, but the glow grew brighter until a familiar blue screen materialized in front of his eyes.
[You Have Been Blessed by the God of Music]
His calm expression faltered for a split second. His heart skipped a beat as he read the glowing text. He sat up a little straighter, feeling a sudden tension in his gut.
[Your Perception of Music Has Been Enhanced]
[You can now discern every detail, every note, and every mistake...]
Alex inwardly groaned. Of all the places for this to happen, a concert hall packed with elite musicians was probably the worst. He glanced at Natalia, who remained stoic beside him, completely unaware of his inner turmoil.
The overture transitioned into "Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat Major, Op. 73," also known as the "Emperor" Concerto. The powerful, majestic tones of the piano were meant to soar above the orchestra, each note resounding with precision and grace.
Except, for Alex, every slight imperfection felt magnified tenfold. The pianist missed a note by a fraction of a second, throwing off the delicate balance of the piece. A string player's bow slipped ever so slightly, producing a faint but sharp screech that only Alex seemed to hear. Even the breaths of the brass section seemed labored, disrupting the harmony.
Alex clenched the armrests of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he tried to maintain his composure. Every mistake—no matter how minor—rang in his ears like a discordant cacophony. He closed his eyes briefly, hoping to block out the noise, but it was no use. The music invaded his mind regardless, relentless and punishing.
Natalia turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?" she whispered.
Alex forced a tight-lipped smile, trying to suppress the frustration boiling inside him. "No, just... really into the music."
She gave him a quizzical look but didn't press further, returning her attention to the stage.
By the time the orchestra moved on to "Symphony No. 6 in F Major, Op. 68," the "Pastoral" Symphony, Alex was on the verge of losing his mind. The symphony was supposed to evoke the peaceful countryside, filled with gentle melodies and harmonious tunes. But to Alex's ears, every tiny misstep felt like a glaring error—a misaligned string here, a misplaced wind note there.
The soft rustle of the flute, meant to imitate the sounds of nature, grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. The violins that were supposed to embody the peaceful flow of the river instead felt jagged and sharp in his mind. Alex sat stiffly, his foot tapping nervously against the floor as he fought to keep himself calm.
Natalia glanced at him again. "You look tense," she commented.
Alex forced a chuckle. "Just... focused on the details."
She gave him another curious look but said nothing more.
Finally, the orchestra prepared for the "Finale: Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92." It was one of the most celebrated symphonies, known for its energetic and rhythmic intensity, but for Alex, it became a test of endurance. The rhythmic drive that usually propelled the piece forward instead felt like a hammer relentlessly pounding in his mind.
Each slight deviation from perfection struck him harder than the last. A misplaced accent here, a breath taken too soon there—each one twisted the music into something far more jarring than intended. The entire symphony, which should have been a triumphant conclusion, felt like an onslaught of errors to his cursed ears.
He gripped the armrests even tighter, his nails digging into the wood as he tried to focus on breathing evenly. He could feel Natalia's gaze on him, and he knew she could sense something was off. But he couldn't afford to show it.
When the final note finally rang out and the applause erupted, Alex felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He exhaled deeply, his muscles finally relaxing as the torture ended.
Natalia clapped politely beside him, her face still calm and composed. "That was... interesting," she said, glancing at Alex.
He forced a smile, though he felt like he had just survived a battlefield. "Yeah... interesting."
As they stood to leave, Alex muttered under his breath, "Blessed by music, huh? More like cursed."
Natalia gave him a sideways glance but chose not to question his strange comment. Instead, she walked ahead, leaving Alex to follow behind, still feeling the echo of every flawed note lingering in his mind.
For him, the performance had been anything but peaceful. And he knew that, from now on, he would never listen to an orchestra the same way again.
*****
As they left the concert hall, Alex hoped the worst was over. The heavy air of the performance still lingered, and he rubbed his temples, willing the pounding in his head to subside. He thought the orchestra was the end of his suffering for the evening, but he soon realized how mistaken he was.
The city, renowned for its music, was alive with the sounds of street performers at every corner. Violinists, guitarists, and even small ensembles dotted the sidewalks, filling the air with a constant barrage of melodies. What might have been charming and enjoyable to others now felt like a torturous reminder of his newfound "blessing."
Natalia's family seemed to be having a wonderful time. Her parents smiled and clapped as they passed a young cellist playing a stirring rendition of a classical piece. Natalia herself appeared a little more relaxed than usual, her eyes briefly lighting up as she paused to listen to a particularly skilled street pianist.
Alex, on the other hand, could barely contain his growing frustration. Every wrong note, every slight misstep, felt like needles pricking his ears. He clenched his fists, forcing a neutral expression as he walked alongside the Elmianes, doing his best not to let his irritation show.
When they stopped in front of a café to enjoy some warm drinks, Alex saw an opportunity to escape the constant musical onslaught. He slipped inside and ordered an espresso—an unusual choice for a ten-year-old, but he needed something strong to keep himself distracted.
As he took the first bitter sip, he tried to focus on the warmth of the cup in his hands rather than the chaotic notes drifting in from the street. It wasn't working. Every time he heard a sour note or an off-tempo beat from the performers outside, his shoulders tensed.
He glanced out the window, seeing Natalia's family laughing and enjoying themselves, completely unaware of his internal torment. Natalia, standing slightly apart from her parents, caught his eye and gave him a curious look. She seemed puzzled by his decision to stay inside, but she didn't press the matter.
Alex forced a small smile and lifted his cup in a mock toast, as if to say, "I'm fine." But he wasn't. He felt like he was being slowly driven mad by the very thing that had once been a source of peace for him—music.
As the street performers continued their sets, Alex pressed his fingers to his temples and muttered under his breath, "I have got to find a way to turn this blessing off."
He didn't know how much longer he could endure this.