Oh, would you look at that.
Heide Atrel—a complete fucking siscon. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
I glanced down at my neck. Blood trickled down my collarbone, soaking into my shirt. A shard of glass was lodged just above my collar.
I should pull it out.
My hand moved automatically. The second my fingers brushed the glass, pain shot through me like lightning. My vision blurred. For a moment, I thought I might black out. But I clenched my teeth and yanked the shard free. It clattered to the floor with a dull clink. Blood followed, more than I expected. I pressed my hand against the wound, breathing hard.
The room was bleak—faded walls, worn furniture, and the faint, unpleasant scent of something rotting in the corner. A house that didn't belong to me.
But I knew exactly where I was.
Heide Atrel's house.
A character from Ethereal Love: The Forgotten Promise.
One of those generic romance visual novels—baron's daughter, magic academy, six guys falling in love with her. Trash, honestly. I barely remembered the plot, but I still bought the game from some shady shopkeeper. No price tag, no proper label—just some greasy old man acting like I was trying to steal a national treasure.
Didn't expect to wake up inside it.
And, because Fate clearly had a personal vendetta against me, I ended up as Heide Atrel. A side character. Not even a villain—just an annoying bastard obsessed with his step-sister. A total siscon.
His life was a tragedy, though. Lost his biological sister, got adopted by the protagonist's family, and then grew… too affectionate toward his new sister. Yeah. Things went downhill fast after that.
But if I remember correctly, he wasn't suicidal. So why was there glass in his neck? He didn't have any scars when he appeared in the story. Judging by my size, I had to be around seven years old—
Wait.
I frowned.
Seven?
I sighed. I should clean this up.
There wasn't even a proper bathroom, so I staggered outside to fetch some water. People stared as I walked past—not shocked, not concerned. Just… indifferent. Like a bleeding kid wandering around was completely normal.
So he's done this before.
Which means…
I froze mid-step.
That means the original Heide died in this attempt of self harm. And now I'm here.
But what happened to me?
I was in a café with Sia. My girlfriend. We were just talking, nothing strange. So how did I end up here?
My head throbbed suddenly—a sharp, blinding pain that forced me to clutch my skull. I groaned, staggering back inside.
...Forget it. I'd figure it out later.
For now, I just needed to clean the blood off the floor and stop myself from dying a second time.
By the time I finished, my arms felt like lead. The wound on my neck still stung, but at least I wasn't actively bleeding anymore. Small victories.
Then, the door creaked open.
I turned, expecting another headache, and sure enough—there she was.
A little girl stood in the doorway, her face lighting up the moment she saw me. Gray eyes, gray hair. The same as Heide.
She was tiny—barely tall enough to reach the doorknob. But the second her gaze landed on my bandaged neck, her happiness shattered. Her smile wavered. Her eyes darted to the wound, and in an instant, she ran over.
"Heide, you're hurt." Her voice trembled, eyes glossing over with tears.
The way she was crying, you'd think she was the one who got stabbed.
…Who is this kid?
Oh. Right. His sister. His dead sister.
Wait.
Dead?
Wasn't she supposed to be dead? Heide probably only started self-harming because he lost her, right? So if she's alive…
What the hell is going on?
I need answers.
"Hey," I said, keeping my voice casual. "How many times have I done this?"
She sniffled, looking up at me with watery eyes. "S-Seven… seven this week."
"Seventy-seven?!"
She shook her head. "No… just seven." Her lip wobbled. "Why don't you remember? Did you lose your memories?"
…Well, for a kid who barely looks five, she's smarter than me.
I forced a chuckle. "No, no. Just… got a little confused."
It wasn't a lie. I was confused.
But I was also in pain, and I wasn't planning on doing this again. If not for myself, then at least to avoid making this kid cry.
I wanted to ask her name. My age. Her age. But none of it was ever revealed in the visual novel. I think she dies at seven? But if I'm seven right now, then I have time.
She suddenly perked up. "Heide… happy birthday."
Birthday?
She smiled despite her puffy eyes. "Grandma Rosa got us a cake."
I looked down.
A small sponge cake sat in her hands. Vanilla icing, clumsily piped letters.
Happy 10th Birthday, Heide.
…Wait.
"Birthday?" The word left my mouth before I could stop it. "Today is my birthday?"
She tilted her head. "Mmhm."
"And I'm… ten?"
Her expression crumbled. Her little face scrunched up, her lip trembling again.
"You…" Her voice cracked. "You did lose your memories."
Tears welled up again, and before I could stop her, she started bawling.
Shit.
"No, no, no—wait, I didn't! I promise!"
She sniffled, still hiccuping, then squinted up at me.
"Then…" She rubbed her eyes. "What's my name?"
…
Yeah, never mind. I lost my memories.
Her face crumpled. She started hitting my chest with her tiny fists, still hiccuping.
"This is why I told y—hic—told you not to do it! B-but you n—hic—never listened!"
I sighed. My head was spinning, my neck still burned, and now I had a crying child throwing weak punches at me.
What an auspicious birthday. I couldn't have wished for anything better.
Bleeding out? Check. Finding out I was older than I thought? Check. A crying child punching me? Double check.
Really. Just perfect.
I exhaled, rubbing my temple. "Alright. I haven't lost all my memories, so just tell me your name and age. Maybe it'll help me remember."
I probably sounded a little frustrated. Not my fault. My neck hurt.
She flinched.
…Wow. Now I feel bad. She looked like she'd just been scolded.
I sighed. "I mean—just tell me, okay?"
She hesitated, rubbing her eyes.
Then, in a small voice—
"L-Liese… I-I'm seven years old."
…
Wait.
The protagonist of the story was supposed to be three years younger than Heide. That was the whole reason he got so obsessed—because he mistook his step-sister for the real one.
Which means—
Don't tell me.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
I looked at the girl hiccuping in front of me.
…She was supposed to be dead at seven.
So why is she standing right here?