The next morning, Ruvian stood bathed in the sunlight, clad in the uniform of Velthia Academy, when he moved around, the fabric whispered as the breeze brushed past.
The deep navy-blue coat fit snugly against his frame. Beneath it, a high-collared white undershirt peeked through.
His trousers were black and impeccably fitted, and bore the resilience of fine craftsmanship. A sturdy leather belt cinched the coat in place.
At his feet, boots of rich black leather rose to his calves, and draped over his shoulders, a dark-blue cloak lined with silver accents that shifted with the cold wind.
Though not ostentatious, the uniform carried an undeniable presence, it was the attire of an academy scholar, one who had earned the right to stand among the best.
'Even in my past life, I had never worn anything like this.'
A lone carriage stood at the edge of the dirt road, its horses shifting impatiently.
Ruvian adjusted the strap of his travel pack, his fingers warm against the rough fabric. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, but beneath it lay a heavy pressing against his chest.
'Am I feeling sad? Ah… not this again.'
The feeling sat deep, persistent, like a dull ache that refused to fade. It wasn't as if he was the type to be sentimental, nor did he have a history of emotional farewells.
And yet, something about this moment unsettled him.
'That darn Ruvian…'
The remnants of the original Ruvian, the boy who had grown up in this home, who had been raised by this family, still lingered somewhere within him.
A faint echo of emotions, memories, and attachments that weren't originally his, but had long since intertwined with his own.
But did it matter that he was not truly their son? Not truly her brother?
He had lived under this roof, heard their voices every morning, watched his mother cook, listened to his sister's endless chatter, and worked under his father's guidance.
At some point, their warmth had become… home.
A soft sigh left him.
'Still…'
He didn't know what to make of this feeling. It was complex, tangled between the past and present, between what was his and what wasn't.
But one thing was certain. Even if he never spoke the words aloud, even if he struggled to show it. They were his family now.
It was an irony that Ruvian could not easily dismiss. He lived among people who loved him, yet the one they loved was not him at all.
Their affection, their trust, their small habits of care were directed toward a boy who no longer existed.
From a logical standpoint, the situation was almost absurdly straightforward. Human bonds are built less on objective truth and more on continuity of presence.
If he woke up under the same roof, if he spoke in familiar tones, if he mirrored the daily rituals they expected, then their emotions adapted to the continuity rather than the reality.
To them, he was their son and their brother.
But to him? Were they his parents and his younger sibling?
'...'
He doesn't know how to answer that yet.
Maybe not for the time being.
Memory and identity are not static constructs but fluid, constantly reinforced through shared experience. By participating in their lives, he effectively became the very thing he claimed he was not.
So, what was there to conclude?
That he was both a fraud, a family, a liar and a loved one? That he could dislike the falseness of it, and yet still like the comfort it gave him?
In the end, it was laughably human. To resent the lie, but cling to the warmth it provided anyway.
He let out a humorless chuckle, eyes tracing the walls of his house.
'Guess I have to blame whoever pulled me into this world.'
His mother stood before him, her eyes watering with unshed tears. "Don't you think you've grown too fast, dear?"
Ruvian looked into her sapphire eyes.
He felt a bit guilty. But why should he feel guilty? He had done nothing wrong. So, he should easily dispose of it.
However, he wasn't wired for cold detachment, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.
Ruvian was not as tough as he expected himself to be. If someone looked at him with maternal, unguarded love, he either broke under it or bent to meet it.
Ruvian nodded and replied.
"Yes, time flew very fast, didn't it? But you don't have to worry about it, Mom. You still look young and beautiful as ever."
Avina huffed softly with a pout, a familiar exasperation laced with warmth.
"Hmph! Like a father, like a son. Both of you surely know how to flatter a woman."
"Anyway… just promise me you'll eat properly. You always forget when you're too caught up in something."
"I promise." Ruvian said with a soft smile.
He did not dwell on her words this time. Instead, he reached into his bag, fingers closing around a carefully wrapped bundle.
Without a word, he placed it in her hands.
Avina unwrapped it slowly, cautiously, until the gleam of polished steel caught the morning light.
A kitchen knife.
"Ruvian, this—"
"You always complained about your old one," his voice was calm, as if the gesture was of no consequence.
"This one will serve you better."
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, with a shake of her head, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek, lingering just long enough to speak what words could not.
"Thank you, my dear."
A sharp tug at his sleeve shattered the moment's stillness.
Ruvian looked down. Ciela was clinging to him, tiny hands grasping at the fabric as if letting go would make him disappear forever.
Her lower lip trembled.
He had never known what it was like to have a younger sibling. Never understood what it meant to have someone look up to him, to cling to him without hesitation.
Ciela was small.
Unafraid to demand his attention.
Unashamed of her reliance on him.
And the strangest thing?
He gradually didn't mind it. There was no irritation, no impatience anymore, only the unspoken instinct to reassure her.
To be honest, was this really him?
Or was it this body's lingering emotions, weaving themselves into his own?
'Is this what it's like to be an elder brother?'
He was not sure either.
But as he gently placed a hand atop her head, fingers threading through her soft hair, he realized. Maybe it didn't matter; he always wanted a younger sister, too, back then.
Ciela's grip on his sleeve tightened, small fingers curling desperately into the fabric.
"So you're really leaving… I don't like it."
Her voice was small, but stubborn, laced with the kind of sadness that only a child could express so freely.
Ruvian sighed. "Don't start crying."
"I'm not!" She said a blatant lie, one undone by the way she furiously rubbed at her dampening eyes with a pout.
'Haa. This girl…'
Ruvian reached into his bag, pulling out a carefully chosen gift—a stuffed chipmunk-doll.
Ciela gasped, her sadness momentarily forgotten as she clutched it tightly to her chest.
"It's supposed to help you sleep."
"So, stop sneaking into anyone's bed." Ruvian said.
Ciela pouted, but held the doll even closer, nuzzling into its fur.
"Hehe~ I'll name him Ruvian Junior!"
"That's… unnecessary."
But despite his words, he didn't pry the doll from her arms. She looked up at him, eyes still wet but brimming with something lighter.
His father, who had been silent this whole time, let out a low chuckle.
"Let her have it."
Ruvian turned to the man.
He reached into his bag one last time and held out a simple, well-crafted hand plane, a tool used to smooth wood.
His father accepted it, running a calloused hand along the polished surface. His sharp grey eyes studied the craftsmanship, and then, slowly, he nodded.
Then, after a pause, Dieren placed a firm hand on Ruvian's shoulder.
"Make something of yourself out there, son."
Ruvian gave a single nod. "Sure, I will."
Then, the carriage driver called out, his voice gruff.
"Time to go, lad!"
Ruvian exhaled, before stepping onto the carriage without looking back.
The wheels groaned against the dirt road, the gentle sway of movement beginning to pull him forward… forward, away.
"Come back soon, okay? And make sure to become a strong mage!" Ciela's small voice, insistently cut through the morning air.
"Write to us when you can!" Avina shouted.
Ruvian turned his body towards them through the open window, they were waving at him with genuine smiles.
Activating skill: [Editorial Preview]
Then, he glanced at the top of their heads.
[Alive]
[Alive]
[Alive]
He felt a sense of reassurance. He had checked it countless times, worried that it might suddenly change or that he might overlook it.
Then, Ruvian did not hesitate to answer.
"I will!"
He finally allowed himself a gentle smile as he made the simple and unadorned promise to them.
Silence settled in the wake of his words, broken only by the rhythmic creak of wheels against the earth.
Ruvian sighed, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, yet his thoughts trailed behind, lingering in the place he had left.
'You have a nice family.'
'...I'm envious of you.'
The thoughts were meant for the original Ruvian who had once lived in this body.
He closed his eyes, letting the thought rest. And when he opened them again, the hesitation had faded.
His expression was calm.
But his resolve was set in stone.
Finally, it was time for the academy arc.
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[Chapter 32: Departure and Farewell]
Plot Points = 11220