"Ha… Ha…." I'm panting on the floor. My body is drenched in sweat, and I'm dizzy, feeling like I want to vomit.
"Get up, your lazy kid." a voice commands, but I don't have any ounce of energy left.
"Please… I can't go on." I cry, my voice breaking.
"This is why I hate rich kids like you. You guys are always whining." The voice kicks me in the stomach. Aghh… it hurts so bad that it's hard to breathe.
My tears slide down my cheek, mixing with the sweat and dirt on my face.
"Get up and start using your power." A slap lands on my cheek. My cheek burns, and I taste metal in my mouth.
The pain is unbearable, and the world around me blurs. The memories of my harsh training, the relentless pressure, and the constant pain consume me.
I feel like I'm suffocating, trapped in a nightmare from which there is no escape.
Suddenly, I jolt awake, my heart racing and my body drenched in sweat. It takes a moment for me to realize that I'm safe in my bed, back in the present. The darkness of my room is a stark contrast to the vivid horrors of my dream.
I sit up on my bed, my hands trembling as I reach for the drawer, searching for the pills. I don't know how many I've consumed.
"Why… didn't I seal those memories?" I mutter to myself, my voice shaky. Whenever there are memories that I hate, I always seal them in the back of my mind.
And why now, of all times, are the memories coming back as nightmares?
Haa… then I remember a white cat. The smooth and silky fur. I should have taken his number at that time.
I look at the clock on the wall. It's already 5:38 p.m. I should go downstairs and get ready to prepare dinner.
Although this house has maids, sometimes I want to cook for my family. Cooking always brings me a sense of normalcy, a brief escape from the chaos that surrounds us.
As I make my way downstairs, the familiar warmth of the kitchen greets me. I begin to gather ingredients, my hands moving methodically, finding comfort in the routine.
The scent of fresh herbs and spices fills the air, and for a moment, I let myself get busy in the kitchen.
The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the bubbling of the sauce provide a soothing backdrop, helping me to momentarily escape the weight of my thoughts.
Leo bounds into the kitchen, his energy infectious. His bright smile and lively spirit are a welcome distraction from the lingering shadows of my nightmare.
"What are you making, brother?" he asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.
"Your favorite." I reply, smiling despite the memories that still haunt me.
"Spaghetti carbonara?" he asks excitedly. I nod my head.
"Yay!" Leo cheers, clapping his hands with glee. He grabs a stool and climbs up to watch me cook, his enthusiasm filling the room with warmth.
As I prepare the meal, I guide Leo through the steps, letting him help with simple tasks. He carefully sprinkles cheese over the pasta, his concentration intense.
"Is this enough, brother?" Leo asks, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.
"Perfect." I say, ruffling his hair.
"You're doing great."
The joy on Leo's face is contagious, and for a moment, the worries of the world fade away. We finish cooking together, the kitchen filled with laughter and the mouthwatering aroma of our meal.
"Oh, my. It looks delicious."
Without us realizing, our parents had returned from work. Mother stands at the entrance of the kitchen, her eyes twinkling with delight. Father follows behind her, a proud smile on his face.
"You two have outdone yourselves." Father says, stepping closer to inspect our handiwork.
Leo beams with pride, his excitement palpable.
"Brother and I made spaghetti carbonara!"
Mother hugs Leo and me, planting a kiss on both of our forehead.
"I can't wait to try it. You boys are amazing."
We gather around the dining table, and as we serve the meal, the warmth of family surrounds us.
As we eat, the delicious flavors of the meal we prepared together bring a sense of normalcy and comfort. For a while, the troubles outside our home seem distant, replaced by the love and support we share.
After dinner, Leo and I wash the dishes while our parents relax in the living room. The simple act of cleaning up together feels grounding as it was small joys in life.
"Thank you for helping, Leo." I say, handing him a dish to dry.
"Of course, brother. I had so much fun cooking with you." Leo replies, his smile unwavering.
With the kitchen clean and the leftovers stored away, I tuck Leo into bed. As I pull the covers up to his chin, he looks up at me with wide, trusting eyes.
"Goodnight, Leo. Sweet dreams." I whisper, brushing his hair back.
"Goodnight, Eamon. I love you." he murmurs, his voice soft with drowsiness.
"I love you too." I reply, my heart full. I walk out from Leo's room and head down towards my parents.
"Leo has already fallen asleep." I say to them.
"Sit down, Eamon." Father says, his tone gentle yet firm.
"Here, drink your tea." Mother pours herbal tea for me, the soothing aroma filling the air.
I sit down, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. As I take a sip of the tea, Mother looks at me with concern.
"I got your medical report from Evan." she says softly, her eyes searching mine.
I look down towards the tea cup, avoiding her gaze.
"It's not a big deal. Anyways, I'm going to the guild next morning." I say, trying to deflect their worry. I know that they care about me deeply, but sometimes it feels overwhelming.
Father places a hand on my shoulder, his grip reassuring.
"Eamon, we're just worried about you. You've been through so much."
"I know, Father. But I have to keep going. There's too much at stake." I reply, meeting his eyes.
After reading the report Evan gave me yesterday, there is so much to prepare and watch out for. If I stop here, there is a risk.
Father watches me intently, then ruffles my hair gently.
"You know what? I really wish you were not awakened. Neither you nor Leo becoming awakened would have been better. But if your parents are awakened, then your children will be as well."
This is one of the conditions that the system imposes to awaken humans.
His words hang in the air, the weight of their meaning pressing down on me. I can see the sorrow in his eyes, the deep longing for a simpler life, one without the burden of our powers.
"It's late. Eamon, go to sleep." Mother says gently, her voice soft and caring.
I nod, feeling the exhaustion seep into my bones.
"Goodnight, Mother. Goodnight, Father."
As I head to my room, I reflect on their words. I sit by the window, gazing at the stars.
"System." I whisper, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the night. The stars twinkle above, a silent audience to my contemplation.
[Yes human?]
The system's voice echoes in my mind, calm and neutral.
"Why did it have to be this way?" I ask, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions.