From Coma [1]

Within a hospital room, two nurses and a doctor maintained a vigil over a patient ensnared in a coma. Methodically sifting through data, they meticulously compared each piece. Convinced that the records were devoid of inaccuracies, the doctor then proceeded to examine the patient's eyes.

"His condition appears stable. Furthermore, judging by the muscular activity we observed earlier, it's likely he's gradually regaining consciousness," the doctor reported.

The nurses acknowledged this information with nods before departing the room, accompanied by the doctor.

Now alone in the room, the patient's fingers began to stir. They converged, curling into fists, and then an astonishing development occurred—the patient awoke.

Roger, his consciousness restored, surveyed his surroundings, his gaze settling on an environment that seemed both foreign and bewildering.

More than foreign, it seemed entirely unfamiliar, as if he had never encountered it before.

"Is this a hospital?" he muttered under his breath, his voice a mere whisper, as he gradually elevated his body into a seated position.

'Could years have passed? It certainly felt that way. I've finally returned... though not exactly as I expected. I didn't meet my demise on Earth.'

"Status."

Roger invoked his status, whereupon a display window manifested before him, detailing his abilities and skills.

---

[Roger Wyles]

[18 years old]

[Feral Demon]

ATK: 999+

MP: 999+

MDEF: 999+

PDEF: 999+

STR: 999+

AGI: 999+

DEX: 999+

INT: 999+

Skills:

[Million Style Arts]

---

In his quiet contemplation, Roger released a sigh before shutting the information window that had revealed his regained status.

'I still possess my previous status. Could it be that I've returned to Earth alive? Remarkably, I'm still eighteen despite living eighty years in Kluma.'

(A/N: Kluma is the name of the world he was from.)

Having reawakened for the third time, Roger acknowledged the intricate nature of this phenomenon. Nevertheless, he held little interest in delving into the intricacies and instead opted to close his eyes, returning to his reprieve of slumber.

Resuming his recline, he embraced hours of uninterrupted sleep. During this respite, the door to his room slid open, granting entry to a lady, who was none other than Iana, Roger's girlfriend.

She bore a basket of flowers at her side, her smile a veil to shield her from the melancholy associated with Roger's situation. After two long years, a glimmer of hope emerged as Roger exhibited the first signs of rousing. Yet, beneath this hopeful façade, Iana remained burdened by the agony of Roger's suffering.

"I'm here," Iana uttered softly, setting the basket on the nearby table and subsequently taking a seat beside Roger's bed. Gently, she clasped Roger's left hand.

"I heard that you are showing signs of regaining your consciousness. When I heard it, I was happy. I couldn't help but leap in joy just with that good news. So please... can you wake up now...? I can't endure it anymore,"  Iana implored through tear-filled eyes.

She recounted the tumultuous journey they had weathered together, describing the trials they faced while endeavoring to hold onto their relationship and their very lives. Over the course of an hour, Iana shared her heart with Roger, her emotions laid bare.

As Iana departed the room with a smile, her demeanor somewhat uplifted, she bid Roger a final plea: "I'm leaving now. Please, wake up. We need you." With those words, she quietly shut the door and walked away from Roger's room.

Meanwhile, a subtle twitch coursed through Roger's eyebrow. Gradually, his eyes fluttered open, revealing his gaze directed toward the now-closed door.

"Who was that?" Roger queried to himself.

Years had elapsed, and his recollections of Earth were progressively fading, overshadowed by the vivid memories of Kluma. Despite his inability to identify the lady who had visited him, a pang of sadness stirred within him.

"I sense her anguish. Yet, it feels as if I've longed for her," Roger mused, his thoughts spiraling. Suddenly, a fragment of memory from Kluma surged to the forefront of his mind.

He couldn't help but smile as the memory of the woman he loved—the only woman he had ever loved—resurfaced.

"Iana..."

The radiant visage of Iana materialized before him. The myriad memories they had etched into existence, both joyous and anguished, were gradually succumbing to the haze of time.

"Twenty years have slipped by. I never anticipated that this lady from earlier would conjure memories of you, Iana," Roger remarked with a hint of ruefulness.

Without gazing at the woman who had just visited him, Roger couldn't draw the connection between her and Iana from Kluma.

Another sigh escaped him before he sealed his eyes once more, descending back into slumber.

A month later, Roger's discharge from the hospital drew near. While the news was heartening, a yearning still tugged at his heart.

"The lady from a month ago... she hasn't returned, even now that I'm being discharged. I assumed she might be a relative of mine."

"Roger, are you alright?" inquired his mother, Lorna.

A reassuring smile adorned Roger's face. "Yes, Mom, there's no need to worry."

The process of discharge unfolded, eventually leading Roger and his mother toward the parking lot. In just one month, Roger had managed to reconnect with his family. This reunion, spurred by his resurfacing memories, kindled an acute longing.

"Mom, may I ask something? Did I have a girlfriend?"

His mother, well-acquainted with his frequent questions, was nevertheless taken aback by this particular inquiry.

"I-I... don't know..." she stammered, punctuating her response with a sheepish smile.

Roger merely nodded in understanding.

"I see. Thank you, Mom."

An affectionate smile accompanied his address as he referred to her as 'Mom.' He couldn't help but reminisce about the first time he had laid eyes on his mother again, calling her 'mother.'

This recollection etched into his mind, Roger resolved never to subject her to such distress once more.

"Moth— Mom, thank you for waiting for me," Roger conveyed with a sudden rush of emotion.

As his mother absorbed this statement, she momentarily paused, her gaze locked onto Roger.

"Why thank me? You're my son. It's only natural for a mother to await her child's return. After all, you're a part of me, and I love you dearly, my son."

A soft smile adorned Roger's lips as he met her gaze.

'I understand now... This was the mother I had eighty years ago... I won't let her fade from my memory again.'