Lia stared at the system notifications, her eyes wide and unblinking as the words hovered in front of her. Slowly, her vision blurred, and tears began to pool, slipping silently down her cheeks. Her trembling fingers reached out as if to touch the glowing text, but they stopped midway, curling back into her lap.
She simply sat there, the tears falling freely, her chest heaving with silent sobs.
"Ugh… sorry about that weird class. If you read the details, it gets better. Only the name sounds weird. The rest of the class—" Ethan began explaining quickly, the words tumbling out in an attempt to stop the tears.
But Lia interrupted him, shaking her head slightly. "No… it's okay," she murmured, her voice trembling as she wiped at her face with shaking hands. "It's not… I'm not upset about the class." Her eyes, glistening with tears, flicked toward Ethan. "I… I just never thought… I'd have a class at all."
"For years," Lia whispered, her gaze dropping to her lap, "I thought I was broken. That the gods had abandoned me… or that maybe I'd done something to deserve it." Her fingers tightened, gripping the edge of the bed as if to anchor herself. "I thought I wasn't… enough."
"And now… because of you… I have something."
Ethan did not know when he fell asleep. He had intended to stay awake, to keep an eye on Lia and ensure she was okay, but exhaustion had other plans. Somewhere between her tearful sobs and the quiet that followed, his body gave in. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed, and he drifted into a restless sleep.
When he woke up next morning, the first thing he did was look at the bed, only to find it empty. Fuck! For a moment something horrible popped into his mind but the next instant the door opened and a young woman barged in.
It was Lia.
But it also wasn't Lia.
The woman in front of him was in no way the same person he had met the night before. The frail, trembling woman Ethan had known yesterday was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she carried herself with a newfound poise, her shoulders squared and her head held high.
Her tattered clothes had been replaced with a simple but clean tunic and trousers—likely borrowed or purchased from somewhere nearby. Her black hair, once a matted tangle, was neatly tied back, and her skin, while still pale, held a healthier glow.
Most striking of all were her eyes. The hollow, vacant look had been replaced with a pair of vibrant hazel eyes. Her gaze met Ethan's directly, and for the first time, she didn't flinch. Instead, she had a bright smile on her face.
"Good morning, Master," she said, her voice clear and steady. She stepped inside, carrying a tray of what looked like bun and congee.
Ethan blinked at her, stunned into silence. His mind scrambled to process the transformation before him. This couldn't be the same Lia—yet it was undeniably her. The timid, hollow-eyed woman he had met had been replaced with someone who radiated energy and confidence.
"Lia?" he managed, his voice rough from sleep. "What… what happened to you?"
She tilted her head slightly, her bright smile unwavering as she set the tray on the small table in the corner of the room. "You happened, Master," she said warmly. "Because of you, I was given a chance. I'm… I feel alive. For the first time in so long, I feel like I have a purpose."
Ethan winced at the word "Master." He opened his mouth to correct her, but Lia's enthusiasm bulldozed over his hesitation.
"I woke up early," she continued, motioning to the food. "I thought you might be hungry, so I went down to the kitchen to get some food." She trailed off, suddenly uncertain. "I hope that's okay?"
Ethan shook his head, more to clear his thoughts than to disagree. "It's more than okay," he said, standing and rubbing his temples. "Just like this you can do whatever you want. But, Lia, you don't have to call me 'Master.' Just… call me Ethan. Please sit. Do you want to eat together?"
"But Master, there isn't enough food."
Ethan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Lia," he said gently, sitting down at the table. "First of all, it's Ethan. Not Master. And second, if there's not enough, we'll share."
Lia hesitated, her eyes flicking between the tray and Ethan's earnest expression. "But… it's for you," she murmured, her voice faltering. "I don't need—"
"You do need," Ethan interrupted firmly but kindly. "You've spent enough time not having enough, haven't you? We'll eat together. End of discussion."
Her lips parted as though she wanted to protest, but the unwavering look in Ethan's eyes silenced her. Slowly, she nodded and pulled out a chair, sitting across from him.
"Here," he said, breaking a bun in half and pushing one portion toward her. "We'll start with this. Then we'll figure out what we're doing next."