I'm A Transmigrator

After everything that had happened, an unfamiliar coldness settled over the house. It was an aching emptiness, a stark contrast to the warmth she had once felt in this world.

The love, the security—it had been torn away overnight, leaving behind a silence that pressed down on her like an unbearable weight.

She couldn't stand it.

Her mother was probably still crying, and she felt selfish for wanting to be away, but she couldn't bear the crack in their home, the quiet sobs that echoed through the walls.

So she was here, in Usario's study, staring blankly at the bookshelves while something in her clenched and twisted, something she couldn't quite name.

Usario sat in the corner, watching her.

There was nothing he could say—nothing that would make this easier, nothing that wouldn't feel like an insult to a child who had just witnessed her world crumble before her eyes.

And yet, he was confused.