The Family I Never Had

Damian stood in front of the house, observing it intently. Its design had a Japanese flair, with a clean and simple structure, but he knew from his memories that it wasn't entirely traditional. "There aren't strict rules here, like taking off your shoes before entering," he thought, feeling more at ease. It was a modest home, typical of an average family in this world. Not too large, but it had a cozy atmosphere that made it special. The sky was beginning to shift into hues of orange—it was almost sunset.

He had left the academy with Clara after submitting his exam, but their paths had diverged halfway home. It seemed they lived relatively close to each other. Glancing to the side, he noticed Aileen's house—his childhood friend in this life. The lights in her room were off, a sign she likely wasn't home yet.

Damian let out a deep sigh, trying to steady the nervousness bubbling inside him. He knew his family was waiting for him inside. "It's just a house… I hope it's not too awkward." Summoning his courage, he pulled the key from his pocket and stepped in.

The hallway was bathed in a warm yellow light, and a delicious aroma wafted in from the kitchen. From the back of the house, he could hear the sound of a television and the laughter of a young girl filling the space. His parents' voices were gently trying to calm her, but their tone was more playful than scolding.

Damian felt a lump in his throat. It was an odd sensation, like a warmth spreading through his chest. "So this... this is what it feels like to have a home," he thought, almost in disbelief. In his past life, he had been a stranger to these kinds of emotions. Swallowing hard, he tried not to get too emotional. He didn't want to worry anyone with unexpected tears.

Before he could take another step, a small girl came sprinting into the hallway. Her cheeks were smeared with traces of food, and her mischievous smile lit up her face.

"Brother!" she shouted joyfully, throwing her arms up as if expecting a hug.

Damian froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings. His heart filled with a happiness he couldn't quite describe. This little girl, with her boundless energy and innocence, seemed to disarm him completely.

"Lía..." he finally said, crouching down to meet her gaze. Something deep inside him told him he'd have a soft spot for her.

"I'm turning eight soon!" Lía said excitedly, bouncing on the spot. "What are you going to get me? It has to be amazing!"

Damian couldn't help but smile. He gently ruffled her hair as he replied, "I promise it'll be something you'll never forget."

Lía clapped her hands in delight, laughing as if she already had the gift in her hands.

"You're the best, brother!" she said before darting back to the dining room.

From the other side of the house, his mother's voice called out, warm and inviting, wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

"Damian! Put your things away, get changed, and come down for dinner. And you, Lía, finish your food, young lady."

"Yes, Mom!" Lía replied, climbing back onto her chair with some effort.

Damian waved at his mother in greeting and began climbing the stairs to his room on the second floor. Each step felt heavier—not from exhaustion, but from the emotional weight of the scene. The emotions from this body, combined with the lack of such moments in his past life, left him feeling vulnerable in a way he hadn't experienced in years.

"This is real," he thought as he closed the door to his room. "A place where I belong. A family waiting for me... I never thought I'd feel something like this."

He stood there for a moment, letting the quiet of the room calm him. Then, he began to take in his surroundings.

It was the typical room of a teenager, fairly simple—he was 17, according to his memories. A bed against the wall, a wardrobe for clothes, and a cluttered desk that looked more like a storage area than a workspace. On it were scattered papers with music notes, a broken pencil, and what appeared to be a music synthesizer. Along with his Panel, essentially his computer, it was one of the few expensive items in the room.

Walking over to the window, he cracked it open to let in some fresh air. From there, he could see the house next door, where Aileen lived. Her room was directly across from his, though it was dark at the moment. "She's not back yet," he thought, recalling the afternoons this body used to spend with her as children.

Damian sighed again, this time more at ease, and leaned against the window frame. "This world may have advanced technology, but that doesn't mean everyone lives surrounded by luxurious, futuristic objects." His family was average, leaning toward poor, thanks to some debts. It didn't surprise him that the house and its contents were modest.

As he changed into a simple t-shirt and comfortable pants, his eyes drifted back to the synthesizer on the desk. It was an expensive piece of equipment that had required a significant sacrifice from his parents. According to his memories, the old Damian had practically begged for it, driven by a childhood dream: to become a great composer and fulfill the promise he'd made to Aileen to create songs for her to sing.

But that dream had never materialized—not for lack of effort, but because the talent simply wasn't there. He remembered how, as kids, she had shone while singing, while he struggled to compose anything worthy of her voice. Aileen had never blamed him for it; she always encouraged him with a smile. But the Damian of this world couldn't shake the feeling of being a shadow beside her.

Their relationship had grown distant over time, and the issue with Samuel Lorrick had only been the final straw.

"What a sad life you had," he thought as he pulled on his clothes. The memories, emotions, and essence of the old Damian were now part of him, but he could choose what to keep and what to set aside. The deep affection for his family was something he had decided to embrace, as though it had always been there.

After getting changed, he left his room and descended the stairs. The warmth of the aromas and the laughter coming from the dining room made him smile faintly.

"Finally, you're down!" Lía exclaimed, her mouth full, laughing as if he'd just told her the funniest joke in the world.

"Lía, don't talk with your mouth full," their mother gently scolded her from the kitchen, though her tone was more affectionate than stern.

Damian entered the dining room and greeted everyone as he sat down.

"I'm here. What's for dinner?"

"Hot soup and freshly baked bread," his father replied, looking away from his Panel. Then, with a playful grin, he added, "Aren't you going to greet me the way you did your sister?"

Damian rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile.

"Hello, Dad. Hello, Mom."

His mother laughed as she served him a plate.

"Alright, but if you keep making us wait for dinner, there won't be any left for you."

Lía, laughing, made an exaggerated gesture to protect her bread.

Damian just shook his head as he picked up his spoon. "This is something I never thought I'd have," he thought while watching his family. Then, he took the first sip, letting the warmth of the soup fill him.

---

Damian observed the family dynamics with curiosity. His younger sister, Lía, was sitting on the floor next to their father, playing with a children's card deck. It seemed like a simple game, with cute, colorful characters, and both of them were very focused. Well, his sister was; their father, on the other hand, dramatically overacted every time he lost a round.

"Unbelievable! You beat me again!" their father exclaimed, holding both hands to his head as if it were the biggest disaster in the world.

Lía laughed uncontrollably, enjoying his performance more than the game itself. Damian smiled without meaning to. "What a drama queen," he thought, though he couldn't deny that there was something endearing about the scene.

Off to the side, the ultra-thin TV in the living room showed a video of a little girl visiting a fun farm, interacting with all the animals. The content was simple, too simple. Damian recalled from his memories that in this world, there were no TV channels like on Earth. The screens were only connected to the internet, to a platform similar to YouTube, where people uploaded videos for others to watch.

His mother, who was finishing clearing the dishes in the dining room, noticed him watching the screen and sighed.

"That kids' channel is the only one I could find, but you know how your sister is," she said, both resigned and amused. "She gets bored too quickly."

Damian looked at Lía, who wasn't even paying attention to the video.

"Don't you like it?" he asked curiously, pointing to the screen.

Lía waved her hand as if swatting away a fly.

"It's boring. I've seen it already, and nothing interesting happens."

"Of course, everything in this world revolves around your pace, Miss Impatient," their father joked, still shuffling the cards for the next round.

"It's just not fun!" Lía protested, puffing her cheeks exaggeratedly, though she soon burst into laughter again.

Damian sat on the couch, reflecting while watching her. In this world, the children's entertainment industry seemed to be in its infancy. Very few people were willing to work in this niche since art and creativity were too focused on adult or sophisticated audiences. Content for kids was seen as something trivial, lacking depth or relevance. "It's as if they've decided children don't deserve to be entertained properly," he thought while observing his sister's lack of enthusiasm for the videos.

His gaze returned to the card deck. The illustrations were simple, most characters similar yet distinguished by their colors and details. Still, they had an adorable design, and the game's dynamic seemed straightforward—ideal for his sister. "At least it seems like there's a small attempt to reach them," he reflected. Though, upon further thought, something like the cartoon style did exist when looking at these drawings, but it surely hadn't developed in this world. It was easy to imagine that this field never evolved into animation due to how undervalued children's entertainment was.

Lía snapped him out of his thoughts when she turned to him, holding one of the cards up high.

"Look, Damian! This is my favorite! Don't you think it's cute?"

Damian took the card and looked at the little character, a round creature with long ears and a bright smile. It was probably the most distinctive card, so he easily understood why she liked it so much.

"Yeah, it's cute. Though I think I could beat you at this game."

"Ha! Don't even think about it," she replied, laughing as she gathered her cards to defend her honor.

Damian just smiled as he returned the card. There was something in Lía's energy that made him want to protect her. He thought that maybe he could do something, not just for her, but for all the children who seemed to be forgotten in the art and entertainment of this world.

For now, though, he just wanted to enjoy the moment. His mother finished clearing the dishes and joined them in the living room while Lía seemed determined to challenge him to a game.

---

In the quiet, sophisticated studio, Aileen Vernett sat in front of the keyboard, composing with focus. Her voice echoed through the room as she sang the first lines of the lyrics she had written, searching for the perfect tone for the melody her teacher, Celeste Avelyn, had entrusted to her. The pressure to convince her that her lyrics were worthy of the project made each word feel carefully measured.

But as the words flowed, her mind drifted back to the academy, to the exam that afternoon.

She recalled how she had tried to speak with Damian as they walked to the capsule room. He had responded politely, but distantly, as if uncomfortable with her presence. However, what bothered her most wasn't his attitude—it was what happened next. When she joined her friends and glanced at him from the corner of her eye, she saw him staring at another girl: Clara Voss.

Clara was a young girl with a shy personality, a beauty that seemed simple at first glance, and a sweet smile capable of melting hearts. Aileen clearly remembered how Damian had looked at her—not with coldness, sarcasm, or curiosity, but with a warm smile that seemed to come from deep within. That image made her grit her teeth as she sang.

Then, there was the incident with Samuel. Damian had defended Clara when Samuel, with his usual intimidating attitude, tried to make her uncomfortable. Why did that bother her so much?

She stopped singing abruptly, her fingers frozen on the keys. She shook her head, as if trying to erase those thoughts. It wasn't like her to get distracted like this, especially over something so... trivial.

But before her thoughts could drift any further, the sound of a door opening caught her attention.

Celeste entered the studio with heavy steps, dropping her purse onto the couch and letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"I'm exhausted!" she exclaimed, flopping onto the couch carelessly. She stretched out, letting out a dramatic groan. "I swear, I never want to see so many projects in a row again."

Aileen set aside the sheets she'd been working on and stood up, giving a slight smile.

"Welcome back, ma'am. How was the evaluation?" she asked casually as she approached.

Celeste made a vague gesture with her hand as she settled into the couch, clearly enjoying her role as the victim.

"A torture. I had to evaluate fifty students, and each one presented two short films. Hours and hours of analysis."

"And how did I do?" Aileen asked, a bit eager.

Celeste looked up with a confident smile.

"Do you really have to ask?" she replied, with a hint of mockery in her voice. "As always, outstanding. It was expected from my star pupil."

Aileen forced a smile, trying to hide her mix of relief and dissatisfaction.

However, something in Celeste's demeanor caught her attention. Despite her initial complaints, she seemed more energetic than usual. There was a spark of excitement in her eyes that didn't match her apparent exhaustion.

"Looks like you had a good day after all," Aileen commented, watching her with curiosity.

Celeste glanced at her from the corner of her eye, a smile she could barely contain.

"Oh, really? Why do you say that?"

"Because you're way too happy for someone who just reviewed a hundred short films."

Celeste let out a light laugh, though her expression took on a conspiratorial air. She looked around, as if making sure no one else was in the room, even though they both knew they were alone in the house.

"Alright, I'll tell you something," Celeste said, leaning forward as if about to reveal an important secret. "But this can't leave here, understood?"

Aileen nodded, though she was already used to her teacher's theatrics.

"Today, while we were evaluating the works with other teachers and industry leaders, something happened. Among all the projects, there was one that left us speechless."

"One project?" Aileen repeated, intrigued.

"Well, actually, two," Celeste clarified, her eyes shining with excitement. "A student presented two short films that... I don't even know how to describe it. Not only were they technically flawless, but they had something special, something that could open up a new genre, something full of possibilities."

Aileen frowned, trying to process the information.

"Who was it?"

Celeste raised a finger, warning her not to press too much.

"That's the interesting part. I can't say anything more. The director forbid us from talking about the short films and the student. It's all confidential."

"Confidential?" Aileen blinked, surprised.

"Exactly." Celeste smiled, enjoying her pupil's curiosity. "It's so good that the director decided to keep it secret until the right time."

"But why all the mystery?"

"Isn't it obvious? She's protecting them," Celeste shrugged, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her excitement.

Aileen fell silent, reflecting. Her curiosity was piqued, but with fifty students evaluated in total in the second year, guessing who this "gem" was would be nearly impossible.

Celeste, noticing her thoughtful expression, let out a light laugh.

"Don't get obsessed with it, Aileen. You have your own career to build, don't you think?"

Aileen nodded slowly, not having time to worry about others. She glanced at the time on her Panel and saw it was getting late, so she knew she needed to head home.