Chapter 5: The Weekend's End

After paying the bill, I stepped out of the cozy restaurant. The gentle chime of the doorbell faded behind me as I squinted against the golden hue of the afternoon sun.

Now what?

Should I head back to the apartment… or explore the city a bit more?

I chose the latter.

After all, tomorrow marked the end of the weekend, and classes at the academy would resume. I still had to pack my belongings and catch the train this evening so I wouldn't miss the first session of the week.

Not that I was particularly excited about it.

It's not like Edward had many friends there.

Back in his middle school days, he was well-liked—a popular kid with a bright smile, a sharp mind, and laughter that caught on like fire. He had friends who naturally gathered around him, classmates who admired his discipline and charm, teachers who trusted him with responsibilities beyond his age.

But that was before his mother died.

After her passing, everything shifted. The vibrant boy dulled. He started pulling away from others, not with sudden rebellion, but with slow, silent withdrawal. A quiet fading. He stopped attending social events, answered less, smiled rarely. People noticed, of course—but no one really knew how to reach him anymore.

And eventually, they stopped trying.

He began to abandon the things that once defined him.

His sword, for instance. The one he used to train with every single morning. The one he'd dreamed of wielding like a hero. It sat untouched now, more like a relic than a companion. Somewhere along the way, Edward had stopped practicing. Stopped striving. Stopped believing he could still become anything more.

The instructors pretended not to notice.

His peers said nothing, though their glances lingered longer than they used to.

The more Edward felt unappreciated, the more he distanced himself. He avoided spaces where his absence wouldn't be noticed. He didn't want to be present in the lives of people who didn't care if he disappeared.

That, more than anything, made people leave him.

But not everyone did.

One person stayed.

No matter how cold Edward became, how often he deflected conversation or pushed people away, that boy remained—stubborn, loud, and annoyingly loyal.

"Dude, if I leave you alone like the others, you'll become just another lone loser of our class."

That was William Black.

He'd said it with a grin, eyes alight, like it was a joke. But it wasn't.

Not really.

William wasn't someone you forgot. He had the energy of a wildfire and the loyalty of a dog that refused to be kicked out. Annoying. Endearing. Unshakable.

I suppose… we were bound to meet him again soon.

At least, that's what I thought.

For now, I let my feet carry me deeper into Thornebrook City.

But for now, I let my feet carry me through the streets of Thornebrook City.

The city was beautiful at this hour. Bathed in the amber light of late afternoon, it shimmered with motion and sound. Towering buildings framed the horizon, glowing with enchantments and glasswork. Floating signs blinked above shopfronts, offering everything from arcane scrolls to mana-infused beverages. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, grilled meats, caramelized sugar.

I wandered past buskers performing with magical instruments, through clusters of students in uniforms, and under fluttering banners announcing seasonal festivals. The mana in the atmosphere pulsed gently, woven into the very air, the stones, the pace of the city itself.

Eventually, I ducked into a quiet café nestled between a florist and a bookstore. The inside was warm and earthy, filled with hanging vines and wooden counters that gave off a polished, herbal scent. I ordered a black coffee and a slice of citrus sponge cake.

Bitter and sweet.

A contrast most people wouldn't enjoy. But something about it suited me.

The coffee was strong. The cake's tang lingered just enough to remind me I was still here, still breathing, still tasting.

Even if this world wasn't mine… even if this body wasn't truly mine…

This moment still belonged to me.

Evening crept in, painting the sky in shades of plum and silver.

I returned to the apartment, packed the essentials, and made my way to the station.

Apogee Academy—the most prestigious institute in the Empire—was located off the mainland, on its own isolated island. It had a dedicated rail line and a private train that ferried students to and from the academy in smooth, silent rides.

A benefit of wealth. Of legacy.

Of being a Brightwill.

The station was quiet by the time I arrived. A few students lingered on the platform, chatting idly or dozing against their luggage. Most had returned earlier in the day.

The train finally arrived, humming gently as its doors opened.

I boarded and found a seat near the back, next to a window fogged slightly from the evening chill.

The hum of the train was soothing. Gentle. Like white noise wrapping around tired thoughts.

For a time, I simply sat there, watching the landscape roll by.

Peaceful.

Or at least, it was — until I overheard two boys sitting a few rows down.

They looked about my age, dressed in casual clothes, chatting in hushed voices. One of them glanced my way briefly and stiffened.

It seemed like they knew me — or rather, they recognized Edward.

I, however, didn't recognize them.

Curiosity piqued, I stood and approached.

"Excuse me," I said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard something about an incident?"

The boys flinched slightly, exchanging nervous glances. One of them rubbed the back of his neck, while the other fidgeted with his sleeve.

"Uh, yeah," the first one finally said. "It's about what happened with the first years…"

I raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

He swallowed. "As you know, the academy divides each year into five classes — A through E — with about eighty students in each. It's part of Apogee's structure to keep things competitive."

I nodded. That much, I remembered. The academy didn't just teach magic, martial arts, and strategy — it made students fight for their place.

"The school holds regular inter-class competitions," he continued. "Rewards go to the top class — this time, it was Class A. They were taken on a weekend trip as a reward."

"And then?" I asked, sensing the shift in his tone.

"There was a dungeon break."

That made me pause.

Dungeon breaks were catastrophic — when monsters overwhelmed the natural barriers that confined them. Dangerous, deadly… and too often unpredictable.

"The area they visited was a small recreational town. Locals were caught in the chaos. Many died. Three students were confirmed dead… others injured."

My heart tightened.

"That's horrible."

The other boy chimed in, softer. "Yeah… we just found out today. The names of the deceased were listed on the academy site."

"…Can I see it?"

He hesitated, then handed over a tablet.

I scrolled through the short list of names.

Villagers. Guards. Three students.

My fingers froze.

There it was.

The third name.

William Black.

My breath caught.

That name… I knew it too well.

The world didn't stop turning. The train didn't pause.

But I did.

Just for a moment, everything in me froze.

He was gone.

The only one who stayed.

The only one who never left.

The boy who cracked dumb jokes, who brought snacks to study sessions, who dragged Edward out for walks when he noticed the shadows growing too long.

And now…

Gone.

I returned the tablet silently and walked back to my seat. The train moved forward.

The window blurred with motion. Outside, lights danced across the darkening terrain, painting illusions of peace.

But inside, I couldn't feel anything.

Just the ache.

The silence.

And William's stupid, crooked smile playing on loop in my memory.

I didn't know if this grief was Edward's… or mine.

But none of that mattered, because in this moment, it still clung to me.

Someone once said, "Someone born with misery carries it with them even after death—and that burden touches the lives of those who cared."

Maybe they were right.

Because right now, I felt like I was drowning in it.