Magic.

  The kind of thing you only ever saw in movies or read about in books—always a fantasy, always just out of reach. I’d never believed in it, not really. But every time I got lost in those stories, my mind cracked open just a little—just enough to imagine endless possibilities.

  And God, did I need that escape. Those moments when the weight of reality slipped away, when the ache in my body faded, and the world felt a little less cruel.

  Even in my thirties, magic fascinated me. The sheer creativity it took to dream up those worlds, those powers—I admired it. I envied it. Because no matter how much I wanted to believe, I knew better. Magic didn’t exist. Not on Earth.

  But Earth wasn’t probably where I was anymore.

  And as much as my rational side screamed at me to dismiss what Mari just said, there was a part of me—small, dangerous—that believed her.

  Because if this really was another world… then maybe the impossible wasn’t so impossible after all.

  The black smoke. That strange power.

  Magic.

  A slow, disbelieving smirk tugged at my lips. “Magic,” I whispered, the word foreign and thrilling on my tongue.

  When I glanced at Mari, she was staring at me like I’d grown a second head. I couldn’t really blame her—I probably looked like a half-dead skeleton with a creepy-ass grin.

  An hour slipped by without me even noticing. The sun had crawled higher, painting the sky with soft gold—probably afternoon by now. Not that I could tell for sure. There wasn’t a clock in sight, and my internal sense of time was about as reliable as my lungs had been back on Earth.

  Mari stayed by my side the whole time. Not that I needed her here. But… I didn’t hate it either. Having someone—anyone—in this strange, unfamiliar world was more comforting than I wanted to admit.

  The awkward part? We didn’t have much to talk about. Or maybe I just didn’t know how to talk to her. Every time I tried, it felt like tossing words into a void.

  I tested the waters with something simple. “Ever heard of a cellphone?”

  She blinked at me like I’d just spoken in tongues. “A… what young master?”

  Right. Okay. Maybe they didn’t have cellphones here. Maybe it was some isolated, tech-barren country. Still weird, but not impossible.

  I tried again. “How about a notebook?”

  That one had to land. Everyone knew what a notebook was.

  But no—same blank stare.

  And just like that, my last shreds of denial started circling the drain.

  First, I’d been reborn. Then there was magic—actual magic. And now everyday stuff from Earth didn’t even exist here?

  I stopped asking after that. Partly because I didn’t want to push my luck—and partly because I wasn’t sure how many more answers I could take.

  The silence stretched, thick and awkward. I was about to break it when the door creaked open.

  Elowen stepped in, her presence was undeniably scary.

  “How’s the feeling? Think you can walk now?”

  Her voice was light, almost teasing, but my eyes locked on the two long sticks she held—easily longer than her arms. What the hell were those for?

  Before I could ask, my brain snagged on something else—the fact that this woman was apparently this kid's aunt. That took a second to process. Still, I managed to answer.

  “I don’t know… should I try?”

  “You should,” she said with a grin. “I’ve cleared the toxins, and you’ve bounced back faster than I expected. A week of unconsciousness, and you’re already looking lively. It’s surprising, honestly.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Yeah. No kidding. Surprising didn’t even cover it.

  Back on Earth, getting over a bad fever left you feeling wiped—weak, shaky, like your body was made of lead. And that was just from a fever. I’d been in a coma for a week. I should’ve been a wreck. Barely able to sit up, let alone move. But aside from the dull ache in my muscles and a faint, gnawing pain in my stomach… I felt fine.

  Too fine.

  “I should try,” I said, pushing the thoughts aside. “It’s actually getting pretty tiring just lying here.”

  “That’s some confidence, bones.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she tossed the sticks onto the end of the bed. “Alright—use these for now.”

  Bones. Great. That nickname was probably gonna stick.

  The sticks were… familiar. It took my brain a second to catch up, but yeah—crutches. Or something close. They were made of wood, rough and sturdy, nothing like the polished hospital ones I remembered. More traditional. More primitive.

  “You know what those are for?” Elowen asked, watching with that same easy grin while Mari moved to help me.

  I nodded slowly. “For… my arms?”

  “That’s for your walking, actually. But you’re half right.”

  So they were crutches. More or less. The question was—would these things even hold up?

  Mari guided the sticks under my arms, gentle but firm. I thought about brushing her off and doing it myself—until I actually felt the weight of them. They were heavier than they looked. Or maybe… I was just weaker than I realized.

  “Try to walk now, featherweight. And don’t even think about kissing the floor,” Elowen teased.

  “These are… heavier than I thought,” I muttered, adjusting my grip.

  That got a laugh out of her. “Heavier? That’s just because you’re all bones. You’ll get used to it—eventually.”

  Just what I wanted to hear.

  Still, I tried. One awkward shuffle of the stick. One step. Move the stick again. Another step. It wasn’t my first time on crutches—there’d been an accident back on Earth, and I’d spent a week hobbling around on hospital-issued ones. But those had been lightweight, designed for convenience. These? These felt like they were carved straight out of a tree. Every movement was harder than it should’ve been, the weight dragging me down, making my arms tremble.

  But I kept going.

  “You’re full of surprises, kiddo,” Elowen said, her tone halfway between impressed and amused. “You’re actually walking.”

  And was that… clapping? I glanced over, and sure enough—Mari was smiling, softly applauding.

  I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered… or a little embarrassed actually.

  “That’s it… Keep practicing, and you’ll be walking in no time. Mari, make sure he doesn’t fall on his face, alright?”

  “Yes, Lady Elowen.”

  And just like that, she was gone again—off to handle whatever crisis was brewing in the estate. I didn’t know the details, but from what Mari had told me and what I’d seen earlier, Elowen was in high demand. Whatever was happening, it was probably…big.

  Not that I minded being left alone.

  Well, mostly alone. Mari stayed close, hovering and clapping like I was some toddler taking their first steps. It wasn’t exactly the kind of audience I needed, but… I got it. I’d probably look pathetic too, if I were watching this.

  Still. Not my finest hour.

  It took me hours—hours—just to get used to these crutches. The weight of the wood felt heavier every time I moved, and by the end of it, my arms and legs were burning. Ache settled deep into muscles I apparently hadn’t used much in this frail, sickly body.

  And this was just the beginning.

  I still didn’t know how I’d been “mysteriously healed” after blacking out, but whatever happened, it had Elowen curious enough to take a sample of my blood. And then she hit me with something once again—a meal plan.

  A detailed meal plan.

  Morning Meal (Breakfast):

  Soft poached eggs with cream and herbs

  Freshly baked honeyed bread

  Steamed apples with cinnamon

  Warm goat’s milk with a spoon of almond paste

  Mid-Morning Snack:

  Sweet nut and oat cakes

  Dried figs and dates

  Midday Meal (Lunch):

  Roast pheasant with herb-butter sauce

  Soft barley porridge with wild mushrooms

  Steamed spinach with crumbled cheese

  Berry cordial with crushed ice

  Afternoon Snack:

  Cheese and fruit platter

  Honey-glazed nuts

  Evening Meal (Dinner):

  Braised lamb with root vegetables

  Mashed pumpkin with cream and spices

  Buttered peas with fresh mint

  Warm spiced milk with a hint of vanilla

  Nighttime Tonic:

  Bone broth with medicinal herbs

  I stared at the list, torn between awe and exhaustion.

  I mean, I was an adult—at least mentally—and even I never put this much effort into what I ate. I grabbed whatever was convenient and called it a day. But this? This was something out of a royal feast.

  Still, I couldn’t really argue. This body… It was fragile. Underweight, maybe 22 kilograms soaking wet—and that was far from normal. If I wanted to get back to this kid normal or more greater body, I’d have to follow the plan.

  Even if half of these dishes sounded more like something off a fancy restaurant menu than a recovery diet.

  And how in the world had Elowen come up with all this just by looking at me? I didn’t know much about medicine, but the woman had to be some kind of genius.

  For now, I was resting. Mari had gone off to grab a snack—not that I was hungry yet, but I didn’t stop her. Eventually, I would be.

  “How does time move this slow?” I muttered into the empty room.

  Silence answered back. Not surprising.

  My thoughts kept circling the drain, dragging me down with them. What happened to my real body—my original body? Was it lying there in my apartment, cold and empty? Did anyone even notice? Would the people from the building find me?

  Would I even get a proper funeral?

  The questions piled up, and underneath them, regret bloomed—sharp and ugly.

  It’s funny. When you’re alive, regrets feel smaller—like background noise. You screw up, you wish you’d done something different, but life keeps moving, so you do too. But when you're about to die…?

  Every regret hits harder. Louder. More final.

  I didn’t realize how many I had until it was too late.

  I wished I’d built a better life—better connections, better reputation. I wished I’d learned more, done more, been more. And the worst part? I could’ve. There were people who managed it—who balanced work, self-care, relationships, and passion. People who loved what they did and made something out of their lives.

  Even the ones who hated their jobs but still gave it everything they had—they deserved respect too.

  And me? What did I ever do?

  Was I ever more than just… average? A guy who worked, went home, slept, and did it all again? Did I ever leave anything behind worth remembering?

  Did I even admire myself?

  Did I?

  BANG!

  The sharp crack of something breaking jolted me out of my thoughts and questions. The sound came from just outside the room—loud and sudden.

  “What is it this time?” I muttered, pushing myself up and grabbing the crutches for support. My legs still felt like lead, but at least they held. Mostly.

  That sound—something breaking. A vase? Glass? I’d heard it before.

  Curiosity won out. Of course it did. It always does.

  I hobbled to the door, every step slow and awkward, the crutches digging into my palms. Even getting the damn door open was harder than it should’ve been—stiff hinges groaning in protest.

  And when it finally swung wide—

  There she was.

  A girl. Standing just a few feet away, framed perfectly in the dim hallway light.

  She didn’t look up right away—her eyes were fixed on the shards of a shattered vase at her feet. Hands trembling. But her face? Calm. The kind of calm that felt practiced.

  Jet-black hair, sharp and straight, brushing just above her shoulders. Pale gray eyes—cold, unreadable. Her clothes were dark, trimmed with silver—expensive, tailored.

  She couldn’t have been more than eleven.

  My mouth opened—hers did too.

  “Who are you?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The words collided, hanging awkwardly in the air.

  Our eyes met. And in that second, one thing became crystal clear:

  This kid? She was either going to be a headache or a headache.