As Lee took his first bite, a warmth spread through his body—a sensation so foreign yet so desperately needed. But as he continued eating, he felt something wet trickle down his cheeks. Tears. Yet they weren't his.
Kaelen was crying.
For the first time in nine years, his body had tasted a proper meal. For the first time in nine years, he had been given something other than stale bread and water. The overwhelming relief, the sorrow of a life spent in neglect, poured out in silent sobs.
Lee clenched his fists. He understood now—this world had stolen a child's innocence, robbed him of even the most basic kindness.
His jaw tightened, his heart burned with fury.
"I swear..." he muttered under his breath.
He would make them pay. Every single one of them.
After finishing his meal, Lee left the kitchen, his steps slow but steady as he made his way back to his room. His body still felt weak, but the warmth of real food in his stomach gave him a fleeting sense of strength.
As he sank onto the bed, exhaustion crept over him, but his mind refused to rest. Fragments of Kaelen's memories surfaced—pages filled with intricate symbols, the faint glow of arcane energy, the quiet solitude of studying magic in stolen moments of freedom.
Intrigued, Lee sat up. If Kaelen had studied magic, then perhaps…
Closing his eyes, he reached deep into those memories, recalling the structure of a magic circle he had seen before. With slow, deliberate movements, he attempted to recreate it, tracing unseen patterns into the air.
"Hngh...Fuck!"
A searing heat tore through Lee's body, as if fire coursed through his veins—yet his heart remained unbearably cold. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move. I have to do this...I have to trace the circle—slowly, carefully—on my heart.
With trembling fingers, he followed the memory, attempting to carve the arcane pattern into existence. The magic circle began to take form, its energy flickering like a fragile ember—
Then, it shattered.
A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his vision darkening as his body collapsed onto the bed. His consciousness wavered, slipping into the void.
And in that fading moment, he saw her.
A woman with golden hair, standing just beyond his reach. Her face was blurred, her presence distant—yet warm, familiar.
"Mom...?"
Then, everything went black.
Slowly, consciousness returned. Warm sunlight bathed the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Lee managed to push himself upright—only for his body to betray him.
Thud.
Pain shot through his limbs as he collapsed back onto the cold ground. Every muscle ached, his body screaming in protest. For a few minutes, he lay there, his breath uneven, his mind clouded with fatigue.
Then, a voice—his own, yet filled with newfound resolve—echoed in his head.
What the hell am I doing? Move, dumbass! Are you really going to stay on the ground—just like always? Are you really going to keep being weak?
Gritting his teeth, he forced his trembling body to move. One push. Then another. Until, finally, he was standing—unsteady, but standing.
Lee turned toward the door, his breaths slow and controlled. His heart pounded as doubt crept in, whispering its venomous words.
Should I…?
No.
I must.
I promised him.
As Lee pushed open the door, a flood of sunlight struck his eyes, blinding him momentarily. He instinctively raised his forearm to shield himself, lowering it slowly as his vision adjusted. The warmth of the morning air did little to ease the tension in his body.
This time, he walked in the opposite direction from before—only to come face-to-face with someone he wished never to see.
Ron Virell.
Lee's breath hitched. The worst of the worst. The man who had nearly drowned Kaelen three years ago, treating him like nothing more than a disposable experiment. To them—to Ron—Kaelen had been a test subject, a fragile plaything to use for magic and whatever cruel ideas they wished to explore.
Ron stood tall, exuding an air of effortless confidence. He was undeniably handsome, with sharp blue eyes and striking red hair—a rare trait, unique to the Virell bloodline. He wore a deep crimson shirt, its fine embroidery a testament to his status, paired with pristine white pants.
Pinned to his chest was the Virell family insignia—a dragon, sculpted from the purest gold. A silent, gleaming symbol of the family's power and influence.
And the very same family that had cast Kaelen aside like trash.
"Huh?..."
A mocking laugh echoed through the corridor.
"You fucking bastard. After two years, you finally dare crawl out of your room?" Ron sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "We thought you were already nothing but bones and ashes."
Lee's body tensed. A slow-burning fury ignited in his chest, spreading like wildfire through his veins. His fingers curled into a fist, shaking with rage.
Enough.
He summoned mana, channeling it into his clenched hand, the raw energy crackling with intensity. His emerald eyes locked onto Ron's smug face.
"Hey, Ron… Tell me—have you ever taken a punch from a 'loser'?"
Before he could strike, the air around them shifted. A chilling, oppressive aura filled the corridor, suffocating and absolute. The mana in Lee's fist shattered instantly, the surge of power backfiring.
Boom!
Both he and Ron collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Ron's arrogance vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer terror as he clutched his chest, coughing up blood.
Lee, however, endured. Though his body screamed in pain, he forced his mana to move, shielding his heart—instinct guiding him where knowledge could not.
A presence loomed over them.
The Virell Headmaster.
He had merely been passing through, yet with nothing more than his aura, he had crushed them both.