Semi-Omniscient (Part One)

Dinner with the Gray family was a whirlwind of noise and chatter, made worse by Matthew's inability to relax. His nerves left him too stressed to eat, and as the evening finally wound down, he found himself sitting on the ground outside, desperate for some sleep. The cool night air did little to ease his restlessness.

Just as he started to close his eyes, the soft voice of a young girl broke through the silence.

"Eli, you know Momma's gonna be mad if she finds you here."

Matthew looked up to see Rafaela, Ace's little sister, her small frame barely illuminated by the faint moonlight. Her words were slurred, her speech still affected by her young age, but her tone carried a mix of innocence and concern.

"What are you doing out here, kid?" Matthew asked, his voice groggy.

Rafaela shuffled closer, her bare feet lightly crunching on the ground. "I couldn't sleep," she said softly. "What about you?"

Matthew hesitated, unsure how much he could share. "Same."

…

The long silence between them was broken by Rafaela's soft voice.

"You know… I've always seen you as a brother. So does Ace," she said, her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. "So don't do something to get yourself killed… or I'll be sad."

Her words hit Matthew harder than he expected. He looked at her, her big, innocent eyes staring at him with genuine concern. For a moment, he forgot the chaos of his situation—the reincarnation, the system, and the suffocating weight of playing a role that wasn't his.

"I'll… I'll try not to, kid," he replied, forcing a weak smile.

"You promise?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Matthew hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt. "Yeah," he finally said. "I promise."

Rafaela smiled, her worry easing just a bit. "Good. 'Cause if you break it, I'll tell Momma, and she'll be mad."

Matthew couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Noted."

With that, Rafaela nodded and turned back toward the house, leaving Matthew alone once more. Her words lingered in his mind, a small anchor in the storm of uncertainty he found himself in.

"She's right, you know?"

The sudden voice from behind the wall startled Matthew so much he nearly jumped out of his skin. His heart raced as he spun around to find Ace stepping out of the shadows, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face.

"Damn it, Ace!" Matthew hissed, clutching his chest. "You trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

Ace chuckled, leaning casually against the wall. "Relax. You're too stubborn to die that easily." His smirk faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "But Rafaela's right—you need to stop taking so many risks. You've got people here who care about you, you know?"

Matthew swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Ace's words weren't just a warning; they carried a weight of genuine concern, something Matthew wasn't used to hearing.

"I'll keep that in mind," Matthew finally muttered, avoiding Ace's gaze.

Ace studied him for a moment, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good. Now get some rest, Eli. You look like hell."

[Damn, these characters really love you—Elliott.]

As Ace walked back toward the house, Matthew stayed behind, staring at the spot where Rafaela had been. The weight of his promise—and the care these people seemed to have for Elliott—pressed down on him.

"I'll figure this out," he murmured to himself, more determined than ever.

He closed his eyes, desperately hoping for sleep to come. But it didn't.

…

Matthew lay there, eyes shut, for what felt like half an hour before finally deciding to open them. Darkness. Everything was cloaked in a suffocating black void.

A sudden rush of fear jolted him fully awake. He sat up quickly, the last remnants of sleep vanishing entirely. He looked down at his body—it was his actual body, not Elliott's, as confirmed by the familiar curve of his abdomen.

He scanned his surroundings. Nothing but emptiness, until a faint flicker of light caught his eye in the distance. A fire.

Without a second thought, he sprinted toward it.

…

As he drew closer, the flicker transformed into the warm glow of a campfire. Four logs were arranged neatly around it, forming a crude square.

And then he saw the figure.

It was Elliott. The actual Elliott.

"Sit," Elliott commanded, his voice cold and firm.

Matthew obeyed without hesitation, sinking onto one of the logs. He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond as Elliott's piercing gaze locked onto him.

"Who are you," Elliott asked, his tone sharp as a blade, "and why are you in my body?"

Matthew's throat tightened, and for a moment, he could only stare at the man before him—the rightful owner of the body he was inhabiting.

Matthew took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "My name is Matthew," he finally managed to say. "And as for why I'm in your body…I don't know. I didn't ask for this. One minute I was reading about you, and the next… I woke up here. As you."

Elliott's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "Reading about me? What the hell does that mean?"

Matthew hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "You're…you're from a novel," he said carefully. "At least, in my world. Everything about your life, your struggles, your—" he stopped himself, glancing at Elliott's grim face. "It's all written down in a story. That's how I know about you."

For a long moment, Elliott said nothing. He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he processed Matthew's words. "A story," he repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You're telling me my entire life is just some story for people like you to…what? Read for fun?"

Matthew flinched at the accusation. "It's not like that," he said quickly. "I didn't even like the book—well, not all of it. But that doesn't mean I don't…respect what you've been through. I just…I'm as confused as you are."

Elliott leaned forward, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face. "Let me make this clear," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I don't care how confused you are or what excuse you have. That's my body you're walking around in, my life you're messing with. So figure out what's going on—and fix it."

Before Matthew could respond, a deep voice interrupted them from behind. "That would be my responsibility…"

Both of them froze, turning in unison toward the sound. Standing just beyond the firelight was a child, no older than twelve. His face was calm, but there was something unnatural in his presence—something far older than his appearance suggested.

Elliott and Matthew exchanged wide-eyed glances before blurting out simultaneously, "Who the fuck are you?"

The child ignored the question, his focus elsewhere. "When you said it wasn't you doing all those things, I didn't believe you at first," he said, addressing Matthew without so much as a glance in his direction. "So, I started digging. And eventually, I found him." The child gestured at Elliott. "Deep in your soul."

Matthew's breath caught in his throat as the realization dawned. His voice trembled as he whispered, "You're…you're the author."

The child's lips curled into a smirk, his gaze finally settling on Matthew. "You're damn right I am."