Evening has passed. Night has arrived.
The sun now rests in the night's embrace, and my journey has come to an end as I step off the station platform.
Despite the hour, the station remains alive. I watch as a few other students disembark the train, their chatter filling the space.
I make my way toward the academy — slowly, quietly.
The night feels silent, but perhaps only to me. I walk alone, while others laugh and talk with their friends and companions.
When I reach the academy gates, I present my ID card to the guard stationed at the entrance. After checking and confirming my credentials, he waves me through.
The school campus is beautiful under the moonlight. There's a grand hallway, a sprawling training ground, and towering dormitories. I'd love to take a moment to explore the grounds, but my mind is far too drained to think of anything else.
Right now, the only thing I want is to reach my room.
The first-year boys' dormitory lies on the left side of the academy.
Apogee Academy is vast — with separate dorms and buildings for each year, from first to third. Boys and girls are housed separately, each with their own facilities. The academy itself is built on a large island, separated from the mainland, almost like a secluded world in its own right. A private station connects the academy to the city, making it feel distant yet accessible.
I approach my building. The automatic doors hiss open as I step inside.
I take the lift and press the button for the third floor.
A soft ding sounds. The doors slide open, revealing a quiet hallway wrapped in silence.
I walk down the corridor toward my room.
I press my thumb to the scanner and enter the digital code. The lock clicks open.
The room is large — surprisingly so for just one person.
The scent of sandalwood greets me the moment I step in. Faint. Familiar.
I take off my shoes and quietly walk toward the bedroom.
These steps, these turns — I know them well. They're etched into my body like second nature.
I didn't even bother changing my clothes — the only thought in my mind was to get into bed.
When I finally sink into the soft mattress, I feel something I haven't felt in a while: peace.
There is silence… and within the silence, there's me.
Even though I'm exhausted, sleep refuses to come.
Emotions are strange things. They come in waves—sudden, unpredictable, heavy.
A person I didn't even know a full day ago… and yet his death refuses to leave my mind.
Shouldn't I feel nothing? Shouldn't I feel relief that the last person tying Edward to his old life is now gone?
But instead… I feel guilt.
Is this sorrow Edward's, seeping into me—or has it quietly become my own?
Either way, I don't want it. Not even a little.
I was supposed to be the one in control. But his emotions surge through me like restless ghosts, clinging to a life they no longer belong to.
With a sigh, I sit up and run a hand through my hair.
My mouth feels dry.
I get up and head toward the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I pull out a bottle of water and pour it into a glass. I lift it to my lips—
—but something happens.
Time stops.
Literally.
The glass freezes in midair. My breath catches in my throat.
My body doesn't move. My heart doesn't race. My fingers don't twitch.
Nothing does.
The silence isn't natural. It isn't peaceful. It's absolute—like the world itself has forgotten how to breathe.
And then, without warning—
it hits me.
A vision.
No… a memory.
But not mine.
Edward's.
It crashes into me like a wave of cold air, flooding my senses without permission.
I see him—Edward—sitting on the same couch in this apartment. Not long ago. Alone. Pale light from the smartphone in his hand glows against his hollow expression. The rest of the room is dark, as if he couldn't be bothered to turn the lights on.
I feel what he feels.
A sick anticipation, a slow dread curling in his stomach.
He scrolls.
A headline.
> Dungeon Break in Lakeward District — Casualties Confirmed.
His thumb trembles.
He opens the article.
> "Three student deaths confirmed. Names released: … William Black, Elais Vern, Nora Whitestar."
I feel the moment his breath stops.
His entire world seems to narrow to that one line. Everything else blurs. The shadows in the room stretch and deepen. The glow of the phone turns harsh, almost cruel.
He doesn't cry.
But something inside him dies. Quietly. Entirely.
Then—
The vision fractures—shatters—and reforms again.
Now we're inside the academy's training hall. It's spacious, brightly lit, lined with mana-imbued barriers and arcane sigils to protect the spectators.
Edward stands at the center of the arena.
Dozens of students gather at the edges, murmuring. Their voices blend into a dull hum of gossip, pity, and curiosity.
Edward's faces off against another boy — similar in age, armed and ready. But something's wrong.
There's something… off about Edward.
His eyes are wild, sharp with something unspoken. He doesn't attack with skill — he provokes. Taunts. Antagonizes.
His words cut deeper than his blade, fueling his opponent's anger. Each jab, each sneer seems designed to break the other's composure.
At first, the boy remains composed. But slowly, the facade cracks.
And then it breaks entirely.
The boy explodes with fury, swinging with full force. Every strike holds weight, every slash screams of anger and frustration. Hatred pours through each movement like a dam finally shattered.
The duel becomes brutal — no longer a contest of skill, but raw emotion unleashed.
The vision shifts once more.
Edward is now on the ground – badly beaten, body bruised and broken, his breathing shallow and labored.
His opponent stands over him.
The once-gentle expression on the boy's face is gone.
All that remains is coldness.
Then–
The vision ends.
Time resumes.
I blink, chest heaving. My hand grips the edge of the counter, trying to steady the shaking in my legs.
What… the hell was that?
A memory? A leftover fragment? A vision that wasn't mine?
I don't know.
But it felt real. Too real.
I crouch down and start picking up the broken glass. One piece at a time. Slowly. Quietly.
The water's already soaking into the towel by the time I toss the shards in the trash.
I rinse my hands.
The tap runs longer than it needs to.
Then silence again.
But now it's heavier. Closer.
I don't know what I just saw.
But something tells me…
It won't be the last time.
******************
Author's Note:
I know, I know — there's a lot of emotional weight in these early chapters.
But please bear with me.
Starting from the next chapter, the story won't just revolve around Edward's past, but the thoughts and motives of the one who now possesses his body.
The tone will shift. The story will expand.
Just stay with me. And I promise you won't regret reading my work.