Pain tore through my chest like a burning blade, dragging me out of sleep with a broken gasp. My body jerked against the bed as the sensation twisted deeper, crushing inward, as if something invisible had wrapped itself around my heart and decided to squeeze. A hoarse sound slipped from my throat, dry and helpless, the kind of sound you make when pain steals your breath before you can even scream.

  “It hurts… God, it hurts…”

  This wasn’t a dream. I knew that instantly. Dreams never felt this heavy, never crushed the ribs from the inside or dragged the air straight out of my lungs. The pressure kept building, grinding, until my entire chest felt like it was about to collapse.

  Then— Snap.

  Not a clean break. Not relief. Something deeper shattered, like a root being torn out of my very core. The sensation wasn’t just physical—it felt as if something fundamental had been ripped away.

  I jolted awake.

  Air rushed violently into my lungs as I sucked in breath after breath, my chest heaving uncontrollably. Sweat clung to my skin, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it might tear free. For a few seconds, all I could do was breathe, my hands gripping the sheets as if letting go would send me slipping back into that crushing darkness.

  “What the hell was that…?”

  My pulse slowly steadied. The pain receded, leaving behind a dull ache and a lingering sense of unease. I swallowed and forced myself to calm down.

  It was just a dream…. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  My eyes, still heavy with sleep, refused to focus properly. I rubbed them slowly, trying to shake off the pressure building behind my skull. When my vision finally cleared, something felt off immediately.

  The room was wrong.

  Stone walls surrounded me instead of painted concrete. Thick wooden beams crossed the ceiling overhead, darkened with age. There was no humming fridge, no buzzing lights, no distant noise of a city waking up. Just the faint creak of old timber and the dry scent of dust, oil, and morning air.

  I blinked, my stomach tightening. “…Wait. This isn’t my room.”

  The bed beneath me felt stiff, the sheets rough against my skin. I stood, my balance wavering for a moment, and made my way toward the window. The curtain was heavy, unfamiliar beneath my fingers. When I pulled it aside, sunlight flooded the room.

  Not artificial light. Not filtered. Real sunlight.

  The sky beyond the glass was impossibly blue, the air so clear it almost hurt to look at. Fields stretched endlessly into the distance, dotted with strange crops I didn’t recognize. People moved along dirt paths below, dressed in cloaks and tunics, some guiding large beasts with unfamiliar shapes and heavy frames.

  A chill crawled up my spine. “Where am I…? Where in the world am I?”

  I spun around, heart racing, taking a step back—

  BAM!

  The door burst open with violent force, slamming against the wall as if someone had kicked it in.

  “Aries, you idiot! Are you seriously still asleep?!”

  I flinched hard, my gaze snapping to the doorway.

  A young woman stood there, hands planted firmly on her hips, her entire posture screaming irritation. She looked slightly older than me, her chestnut hair falling in loose waves just past her shoulders. Her pale, pearl-like eyes gleamed with sharp emotion as they locked onto me.

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  I stared, stunned, my thoughts scrambling. Who is she? And why did she call me Aries?

  She didn’t wait for an answer. Striding forward like she owned the room, she grabbed my collar with practiced ease and tugged me toward the door. “Hurry up. Before Mother gets upset again.”

  “…Mother?” I echoed, the word leaving my mouth before I could stop it.

  She paused, eyebrow lifting.

  Smack.

  Her palm struck the back of my head—not hard, but sharp enough to snap my focus back. “Did you fall out of bed or something? Get it together. Get downstairs. Now.”

  “Ow—okay, okay! Just give me a moment. I’ll be there.”

  She turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her with almost military precision.

  Silence returned. I stood there, unmoving, my heart pounding.

  “…What the hell just happened?”

  A thought struck me.

  Wait.

  I rushed toward the mirror on the far wall, nearly tripping over the edge of a rug, and froze.

  Bright crimson hair stared back at me.

  Pale, glasslike eyes shimmered faintly in the light, almost unreal, like pearls submerged in water. The face reflected there wasn’t mine. Not even close.

  “…Who is this…?”

  The question barely left my lips before agony exploded through my skull.

  “AAARGH!”

  I dropped to my knees as my vision fractured. My head burned as foreign memories flooded in without warning—names, voices, emotions, battles, moments that didn’t belong to me yet felt carved into my nerves. The torrent was overwhelming, crashing through my mind like a tidal wave.

  Aries Aerwyn.

  The name burned itself into my consciousness. I wasn’t Shang anymore. That life was gone. This one—this body, this name—was now etched into every breath I took.

  I sat at the desk near the window, elbows resting on the worn wooden surface, my chin pressed into my hands as I stared outside without really seeing anything.

  “So… I’ve been reincarnated,” I muttered quietly. “In Aries Aerwyn’s body.”

  The words sounded absurd, yet they refused to leave my head. They circled relentlessly, refusing to settle.

  “But when did I even die?” I whispered. “Was it some crash? Or… did I really die at all?”

  Frustration gnawed at me as I ran my fingers through my hair—coarse, fiery red, undeniably not mine. A dull ache lingered in the back of my skull, like my mind hadn’t fully finished stitching itself together.

  Then realization hit.

  Mirielle.

  The girl who stormed into my room earlier—she wasn’t a stranger.

  She was Aries’s sister. Mirielle Aerwyn. The name echoed through me with unsettling clarity.

  I headed downstairs, each step creaking beneath my feet. The house felt nothing like the modern world I remembered—no machines, no artificial lights. Polished stone walls reinforced with timber gave the place a sturdy, practical feel. The air carried the scent of something baking, warm and earthy, filling the space with a quiet sense of life.

  It wasn’t luxurious. But it felt lived in.

  In the kitchen, a soft hum drifted through the air. A woman stood near the counter, stirring something in a clay pot, her movements calm and unhurried. When she turned toward me, her expression softened instantly.

  “Oh, you’re finally awake,” she said. “Did you sleep well, dear?”

  “Yeah…” I replied, hesitation catching in my throat before a word slipped out on its own. “Mother.”

  She smiled—and something inside me tightened painfully.

  Althea Aerwyn. Aries’s mother.

  Her dark hair was tied back neatly, a few loose strands resting over her shoulder. Her brown eyes were deep and steady, the kind that made you feel safe just by looking at them.

  But she wasn’t my mother. So why did her smile feel like home?

  “Look who decided to leave his bed,” a dry voice cut in from across the room.

  Mirielle leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a crooked smirk tugging at her lips. “At this rate, he’s going to evolve into a mattress.”

  “Mirielle…” Althea sighed.

  “What? I’m not wrong,” she shrugged. “He doesn’t even try with his arcane. He just naps, mopes, and exists.”

  I opened my mouth to argue—

  Whump.

  A heavy hand landed on my back. “Good morning, Aries. Late again, huh?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Dammit, Father! Stop sneaking up on me like that! I almost bit my tongue!”

  wait… why did I call him father?

  Laughter filled the room.

  Drelan Aerwyn stood behind me, tall and solid, like nothing in the world could push him over. His chestnut hair was slightly tousled, and his pearl-colored eyes—so similar to Mirielle’s—shone with amusement as he ruffled my hair.

  “You’ve always been easy to startle,” he said.

  I groaned.

  “Sit down,” Mother said with a small chuckle. “You’re the last to eat. As usual.”

  I took a seat at the long wooden table. The food smelled incredible, but my stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from the weight pressing down on me.

  This isn’t a dream. I really am someone else now.

  Drelan poured himself tea and leaned closer. “You’re not still brooding over what your sister said, are you?”

  Before I could respond, Althea’s hand rested on my shoulder, gentle but firm. “Even if you can’t control your arcane, it doesn’t matter. You’re still our son.”

  She pulled me into a sudden hug, her warmth undeniable.

  “We love you,” she whispered.

  Drelan nodded, his voice quieter now. “Always. Arcane or no arcane—you’re one of us.”

  I said nothing.

  Because somewhere deep inside—beneath borrowed memories and a stolen heartbeat—a thought whispered quietly, mercilessly clear:

  But I’m not really your son.