Ren stumbles through the door of his small, dingy apartment, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Another grueling shift at the restaurant has left him feeling drained. He kicks off his shoes and hears Lina's voice from the kitchen.
"Hey, Ren. Rough day?" she asks, her tone sympathetic but casual.
He looks back, taking in her figure. She is beautiful in a way that makes her stand out despite the poverty surrounding her. Her long white hair cascades down her back, and her fit body is accentuated by the simple clothes she wears. His gaze lingers a moment longer than usual. Despite his darkening nature, he feels a deep, non-physical affection for her. He sees a reflection of his struggles in her—both of them scraping by, trying to survive. This shared hardship bonds him to her in a way that is both comforting and complex.
"Yeah, you could say that," he replies, his voice heavy with fatigue. He rubs his temples, trying to stave off the headache that's been brewing all day.
Lina looks back from the small stove where she's preparing a simple meal. "I'm making rice and beans tonight. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."
He nods appreciatively. "Thanks. I could use something warm."
He throws his bag on the bed, steps to the kitchen, and sits at the small, wobbly table. She sets a bowl of food in front of him and takes a seat across from him. They eat in a comfortable silence, the clinking of utensils filling the room.
As they eat, she speaks. "You know, I was thinking about the rent. It's due next week, and I don't know how we're going to manage it. I've been picking up extra shifts, but it's still tight."
Ren sighs, pushing a bite of rice around his plate. "Yeah, I know. I've been trying to save up, but it's not easy with the way things are going. The manager at work is a real piece of work, and she cut my pay last month."
Lina nods, her eyes sympathetic. "It's the same at the coffee shop. Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard we work, it's never enough."
Ren's eyes soften as he looks at her. Despite the harsh realities they face, there's a quiet strength in her that he admires. He can see the strain in her eyes, the way she works tirelessly just to keep afloat. It reminds him of his struggle, trying to survive on scraps.
The conversation shifts as they finish their meal. She is feeling down and tells him about her dreams of finding a better job, and he can't help but feel a pang of sympathy. They both seem stuck in a cycle of hardship, yet she doesn't give up hope, unlike him.
"I hope things get better for both of us," he says, his voice more earnest.
"Me too," she replies, her smile warm. "But for now, we just have to keep going, keep struggling."
When they finish eating, he stands up and brings the dishes to the sink while she begins to clear the table. He looks back at her as she cleans, and his thoughts drift. Despite his deepening darkness, he feels an unexpected fondness for her, a mental and emotional connection that he can't easily explain. She's struggling just as he is, but there's something in her resilience that resonates with him.
He quickly finishes cleaning the dishes and steps back to his room. He closes the door and leans to it, thinking. Soon, I'll give you everything in the world. Just need some more time... my love.
Let's start now. He steps to the drawer and picks up some small items from it—a pen, a book, a crumpled piece of paper. He lines them up on the floor and stares at the pen. He points at the pen and focuses intently. Slowly, he raises his hand and the pen moves up slowly with his hand. He slowly gestures to move the pen around the room, up and down.
He then looks at the book. He points at it and gestures it to move up with the pen, and then the page follows. He manages to move all three objects at once. He tries to move them simultaneously around the room. The sensation is strange—his head feels a bit light, and there's a growing tension behind his eyes. He can feel that he can only manage three objects simultaneously.
He puts the objects down. Determined to find his current limits, he moves on to heavier objects. He grabs a small lamp and a few books, placing them one by one on the floor. He extends his hand, and with a gesture, he makes them float. He grabs the book and puts it on the lamp. He tries to move them around the room but he can barely make them float. He quickly finds out that he can lift about five kg of weight before it becomes hard to even lift it.
Next, he points toward the chair in the corner. With a hand gesture, he makes the chair float and holds it mid-air. He manages to keep it suspended for a few minutes. Then, his arms begin to tremble uncontrollably. Sweat beads on his forehead and the throbbing in his head becomes a relentless drumbeat. His breathing becomes ragged. The chair drops on the floor and he collapses onto his bed. The room spins slightly, and he feels a wave of dizziness wash over him.
As he lies on his bed, trying to calm his racing heart, his thoughts drift to happier times. He recalls the warmth of his family's home and the comfort of his parents. He remembers sitting at the dinner table, enjoying his mother's cooking. The aroma of her meals filling the house, and the family sharing laughter and lively conversations. Those moments of togetherness were bittersweet, a stark contrast to his current loneliness.
Then the thoughts shifts abruptly to the night of the accident. The screech of tires, the violent impact, and the chaos of the scene play out in his mind. He remembers the helplessness he felt, sitting in the hospital, grappling with the reality of his loss. The rich man who caused the accident had come to the hospital, his attitude dismissive and mocking.
He recalls the man's cruel words: "You poor boy, why did your parents come before my car? Wasted my time, you beggars." The man's indifferent tone was a knife twisting in his wound, deepening his grief and anger. The memory of the man's mocking expression fuels his rage even now.
The pain in his head is sharp, but it pales in comparison to the fury simmering inside him. His frustration with his power, the strain of his job, and the injustice of his past all blend into a seething mix of emotions. He is determined to push past his current limitations, to harness his abilities fully and exact the revenge he has longed for.
He lies back on his bed, the pain in his head a reminder of the sacrifices he is willing to make for his goals. His resolve hardens. The memories of his past fuel his determination, and the thought of his power becoming a tool for retribution steels his will. He knows the path ahead will be difficult, but he is committed to mastering his abilities, no matter the cost.