The boy tilted his head, that same teasing smile still playing on his lips.
"All you need is a change in perspective" he said, his tone dripping with a cryptic mockery that only made Lynn's frustration simmer hotter.
Lynn opened his mouth to snap back, but before he could say anything, the world around them shifted violently.
The dreamscape they'd just been standing in the twilight sky, the floating memories cracked like ice underfoot, shattering in a rush of light. Lynn gasped as the familiar weight of the mind-space returned, the desert landscape pulling them back in.
Before he could blink, they were standing once again in front of the door, its dark frame looming in the endless, dusty expanse.
The boy hopped off the stone bench like it was no more than a footstool and walked over to the door, turning back to Lynn. His expression was still smug, but something more serious flashed behind his eyes.
"If things aren't going your way…" The boy's voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful, but with a hint of mockery still there, "Then you need to see things differently. Don't just look at the door. Look at it for what it is."
Lynn blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone.
"What does that even mean?"
The boy stepped aside, gesturing at the door with a grand flourish.
"It's not locked. It's not trapped. It's just a door. But you're making it more than that. You're treating it like it's the only option. The only answer."
Lynn frowned. "So, what?
I'm supposed to just,what....look at it differently?"
"Exactly," the boy said with a smirk. "You see what you want to see, but it's not about the door. It's about what you choose to do with it."
He gave a quick glance toward Lynn. "You could walk away from it. You could smash it. You could leave and never look back."
Lynn stared at the door, then glanced back at the boy. "I don't even know where to start with you."
The boy's grin widened.
"And that's the whole point. You've been stuck trying to control every little piece of this mind-space.
But what if you let go of that?
What if you saw everything your other self went through in HIS life and understand it for what they are, instead of forcing them into a box?"
Lynn's chest tightened. He was starting to understand, and that made him uneasy.
"You're saying I have to stop trying to make sense of everything before it makes sense?"
"Pretty much" the boy said.
"Things don't have to fit your narrative. That's how you get stuck."
Lynn stood there for a long moment, contemplating the door once more. Was it really that simple? Was he really just overthinking everything?
"Okay" Lynn said, rolling his shoulders back and exhaling.
"Let's say you're right. So what next?"
The boy stepped forward, watching Lynn closely.
"Now, watch how to change the way you see things when they don't go your way.
Let's peek at your world a little, shall we?" the kid said it almost too casually for what came next.
He didn't wait for Lynn's reply.
"And the current situation is" the boy continued, waving a hand toward the shimmering surface of the door
"you or the other you.....got himself… banished."
Lynn recoiled. "What?"
The boy nodded, expression unreadable. "Yep. And they're holding a second trial. Just to be sure.
Tie the ribbon on the box. Or, well… close your coffin a second time."
Lynn stared at him, mouth parting,
but no words came out.
The boy's voice dropped, just a little. "And your father? He's finalized it."
Lynn felt like the ground tilted slightly beneath him.
The boy gestured to the door again. "Want to confirm it with your own eyes?"
Lynn didn't answer. He just stepped forward, gaze drawn into the swirling black.
The image cleared.
A still, quiet moment. Dawn's light barely touching the edges of a glass-paneled room.
And inside it seated alone, deep in thought was his father.
Dawn blake
.....
The setting sun was casting a dull orange glow over the stone walls of the room. Outside, the estate was quiet,
the kind of quiet that wrapped itself around old houses like a second skin. Inside, Dawn Blake sat still in his chair, arms resting on the carved wood, his expression unreadable.
"Should I give him another chance" he said to no one in particular
"or just let it end like it did before?"
His voice wasn't conflicted. It was calculating.
Beside him, Lore stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her.
Elda, the family's senior maid, stood nearby, her posture upright, her expression composed. Both waited. The silence had a weight to it.
"This second trial isn't about justice," Dawn continued. "It's a confirmation.
A way to shut the door properly."
He shifted his gaze to his daughter. "Lore. Speak."
Lore took a breath.
"Father… I don't think we should get involved. The Church has it now.
Lynn's already been judged once. Whether he remembers or not doesn't change what happened. People don't un-become murderers."
She hesitated, then added,
"What about Liyan? Did he say anything?"
Dawn didn't flinch. "He did. And you already know what it was."
Lore said nothing more.
He turned to Elda. "Your thoughts?"
Elda's voice was steady, her tone almost clinical.
"Master Lynn is defenseless.He has no memory, no allies, no tools.
But that isn't what concerns me.
What concerns me is that I don't recognize him. He doesn't remember me. Doesn't ask about anyone. Not even his mother."
She paused, keeping her gaze level.
"I don't see the young master in him anymore. I see a man who's fully aware he's falling and doesn't care to grab the ledge."
Dawn nodded once, slow and indifferent. "Then we watch him fall."
The words weren't cruel. They were hollow.
"The others will be expecting to hear something by morning," Lore said quietly.
"They'll get what they came for "
Dawn replied.
"Invite them all. Every cousin and nephew with a polished crest and something to prove. Let them sit in the front row. Let them see what's become of the boy they all whispered about behind closed doors."
He glanced toward the hallway.
"But keep Lynn out of sight until the trial begins. I don't want him exposed to their posturing."
Elda inclined her head. "Understood."
As the fire gave its last few cracks, the room fell quiet again.
And down the hall, Lynn completely unaware of the tense conversations surrounding him was still asleep.
He'd collapsed on the bed face-first sometime after lunch and hadn't moved since. Blanket half-off, shirt wrinkled, one leg dangling off the side like a forgotten coat on a hook.
If anyone saw him, they might've assumed he was dead.
Or drunk. Or both.
He hadn't moved in hours.
Not when a tray crashed outside his door. Not when a servant peeked in and whispered his name like a ghost. Nothing.
Tomorrow was his trial, but this guy slept like a man with zero regrets and even less awareness.
If peace of mind were suspicious, he was absolutely guilty.
...
Lynn and the kid sat like invisible spectators in the surreal theater of mind space, staring at the otherworldly version of Lynn who was currently snoring like a champion while an ominous group of people outside plotted his imminent downfall.
Lynn blinked.
Seriously? That guy over there is supposed to be me from another world?"
The boy grinned, arms behind his head, like he was watching a sitcom.
"Took you long enough.
What gave it away?
"I mean look at him!"
Lynn threw his hands up.
"They're literally planning to screw him ...no....me ...mmm...no
I mean,us over and he's out cold like he just finished a marathon of naps."
The boy snorted.
"Maybe he's brave. Maybe he's stupid. Or maybe he's just on a 'break from giving a damn.'"
Lynn frowned, leaning forward.
"Or maybe he's an idiot with a death wish. Is this some kind of spiritual self-destruct mission?"
The boy turned to him, a little more serious now, but still with that maddening glint in his eye. "Sometimes, you gotta let things go. You can't control everything. Even worse no one listens to you anymore. That Lynn out there? He's helpless and he knows it."
Lynn squinted at him. "You sound way too wise for a kid. What are you, forty in disguise?..right "
Lynn muttered, crossing his arms.
"Okay fine, Mr. Cryptic Wisdom.
Since you're so clever, what would you do if you were him....me or whatever?"
The kid looked at him with mock pity. "Oh, Mr. Real Lynn's asking for advice now?
I think the answer would be....to..mmm. Just let it be.
This version of you?
He's already made his choice.
Do you even remember what he said just before he left?"
Lynn stared at the scene ahead, the snoozing Lynn drooling a little on his pillow like he was dreaming of something sweet.
"…No."
The boy smirked. "He said, and I quote:
'Just watch the show.'"
....
It was morning, apparently. The sun was probably out there doing its thing, but I wasn't in the mood to check.
The bed was warm, the pillow was perfect, and for once, nothing hurt.
A miracle.
So I stayed put. Sue me.
I was in deep. One of those rare, premium-brand sleeps. The kind they probably sell in black market jars. And of course, right when everything was peaceful when my brain decided to screen something weird.
"I am not interested in you and also
i prefer someone more capable"
AAAHHHH CRAPPPP.....
I woke up with a jolt like I'd been personally insulted by my subconscious.
Sat straight up, hair in full rebellion.
"What a fucking dream. Of all the things to dream about" I muttered, rubbing my face like that would reboot me.
Then I saw her.
Elda. Standing there like she'd been watching me sleep for hours and was just now letting me wake up on her schedule, not mine.
"Good morning, Master Lynn" she said, polite as ever, but I swear there was judgment in her eyes.
I blinked at her. "Were you just… standing there the whole time?"
She gave a tiny shrug, the kind that made you question every life choice you've ever made.
"I figured I'd let you enjoy it. Might be your last one for a while."
"Thanks for the ominous start to my day," I said, flopping back down.
"Anytime. Master.....Lynn."
I finally swung my legs over the bed and stood up, slower than I'd admit to anyone. The floor was cold, the kind of cold that told you you were really here. Alive. Awake. No take-backs.
The room around me was plain almost surgical. White sheets, white clothes, white walls. Everything in place, nothing personal.
Like someone had decorated it using a checklist and a fear of personality.
I started moving around, checking drawers, opening cabinets, scanning for anything out of place. Or… maybe something that felt like it belonged to me. Not just to the version of me that had lived here before but to whoever I was becoming now.
Behind me, Elda stood by the door, still as ever. Watching, probably. Judging, definitely.
"You know" I said, poking through a drawer full of identical shirts
"this whole room screams 'young master' but dresses like 'institutional ghost.' Not even a single black sock to break the mood."
She didn't say a word.
I glanced back at her.
"Any ideas on how I'm supposed to convince my father I'm not a total waste of inheritance?"
Nothing. Not even a flicker.
"Right" I muttered.
"Let the silent walls of wisdom speak."
I gave up rummaging and leaned against the wardrobe, facing her.
"Still" I said, more softly now
"Thank you. For what you did yesterday. In the corridor. You didn't have to step in like that."
She remained unmoved. Her eyes held mine for a beat, then drifted past me as if the moment wasn't important enough to acknowledge.
I nodded anyway.
"You saved my life. That counts, whether you want it to or not."
Just as I turned away, her voice broke the quiet.
"You should look after yourself."
I stopped. It was simple. Soft.
But it landed like a weight on my chest.
I turned back to her. "That's the first real thing you've said all morning."
She didn't deny it.
A pause stretched between us, and
I let it settle.
Then, because sincerity makes me uncomfortable for too long, I asked, "Do you have any hair dye?"
She blinked, actually blinked.
"What?" I said with a half-shrug.
"The change has to start somewhere. Might as well be the head."
Still no smile. But there was something in her eyes. A flicker. A glint of quiet suprise maybe.
I didn't press it.
Elda didn't say yes. She didn't say no either.
But twenty minutes later, there was a knock at my door, and a small wooden box sat on the table silent delivery. Inside: a modest selection of hair dye bottles, combs, gloves, and a single folded note in Elda's handwriting.
"Pick a color. Don't make a mess."
It was probably the most personality she'd shown all week.
I chose something simple,dark.
It felt safe, but still different enough. Different from the pale, greyish washed-out version of me in the mirror. I stared at my reflection longer than I meant to. The person looking back still didn't feel entirely real.
Still me, but... not yet.
"I am not Lynn blake and i won't be no matter how this world treats me"
This little change is to remind me that
when I look in the mirror from now on.
I got to work in the small washroom. The gloves were a tight fit.
The instructions looked like they hadn't been updated in fifty years. It took longer than it should've. My hands were clumsy, and halfway through,
I accidentally got a streak of dye across my temple.
Somehow, I liked it.
When it was done, I dried off, ran my fingers through my hair and looked again.The color brought something new to my face. Like contrast on an old photo but suddenly, the details popped.
I didn't look like a ghost anymore.
When I stepped out of the room,Elda was standing right where she'd been earlier, as if time hadn't moved.
Her eyes shifted to me,pausing on the change.
She didn't say anything.
I raised my arms and did a slow, ridiculous spin.
"So? What do you think?
Less 'wandering amnesiac,more 'mysterious noble with a plan' right?"
She blinked once.
"You got some on your ear."
Still caring huh.
"Oh where? wipe it please....mmmm
Just kidding.
You don't have to take care of me from now on,isn't that right. Ms.Elda?"
Maybe my joke was too awkward.
There was a faint pause,like she might say something else. But she didn't.
Still, as I walked past her,I caught the slightest nod.
That was good enough for me.
I know this story isn't going to go the way I want. Fantasy disasters? They just keep rolling in—especially when I'm stuck sharing space with the villain's shade.
But still… I'm grateful. Truly. Whether this second chance is a mistake, an accident, or completely intentional—I don't care.
Someone gave me another shot at life, and that means something.
Lynn might be watching. And before I leave this… whatever this place is, I'll make sure his questions get the answers they deserve.
"You are not the young master I know?"
Elda's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
I turn to her and smile.
"And you're the first person I met in this life, Elda.
I don't really have anything to say to you right now—I don't even remember you, Ms. Maid.
But from this moment on, I will. I'll remember you, all the way to the end.
This isn't some deep philosophy. It's just how I am. I remember the people who help me, even when they want nothing in return.
You're one of them."
She stays quiet for a moment, eyes unreadable. Then, softly—almost too soft to hear—she asks,
"Aren't you worried, Master?
After this... you are—"
"Free. Right, Elda?" I cut in gently.
"I just want to know the people who prefer the comfort of me being erased from this place over the truth,if there is any.And I know you're one of them too.
But I owe you one, Elda.
You don't hate me. That much,I can tell.
But that father figure of mine?
I doubt it."
Elda doesn't reply immediately.
She stands there, calm and composed, her presence like a silent monument one that's seen more than it ever says.
Then, with a quiet nod and a voice smooth and neutral, she says, "Understood, young master."
Alright. Emotional scene done and dusted.
Now it's time to pick up the villain's trail and get this story moving.
Irrational nobles of this world…
Ready or not, here I come.