After all that had happened, Northern fell asleep, right on the ground where he was. How he slept, no one knew.
Soon, the next morning came, but it wasn't gentle.
Northern's eyes snapped open as if pulled by some unseen force. His entire body felt heavy, weighed down by something deep within. Then it hit him—a hunger so fierce that it clawed through his veins like fire. It wasn't ordinary hunger, the kind that came from missing a meal. This was different, primal, desperate. As though his very life was being consumed from within unless he fed.
His stomach growled loud and sharp, almost like a beast howling inside him. Northern dragged himself off the ground, his movements jerky, uncontrolled. The air in his room felt suffocating, and he wasted no time in shoving the table aside from the door. The wood scraped violently against the floor, echoing in the quiet house. He yanked the door open and stumbled out, his feet carrying him straight to the kitchen.
The moment he entered, he lost all restraint.
Drawers were yanked open. Plates clattered onto the floor. Pots toppled over with a metallic crash. The once-orderly kitchen became a battlefield of chaos as Northern pulled out whatever food he could find. Cold rice, stale bread, leftover stew—he didn't care. He tore into it all, shoving large mouthfuls past his lips without chewing properly, as though the act of swallowing alone was the only thing keeping him alive.
Grease smeared across his cheeks. Grains of rice spilled down his chin. His hands shook violently as they grabbed at anything within reach, cramming it into his mouth. The hunger didn't just drive him—it consumed him, made him forget dignity, manners, even thought itself.
Then, from behind him, a soft voice cut through the clatter.
"Master…?"
Emily.
Northern froze for a moment but didn't turn around. He couldn't. His jaws were already straining wide, far wider than normal, his mouth bulging grotesquely with food. Slowly, as if compelled, he turned to face her.
Emily's eyes widened in shock. His mouth looked unnatural, stretched to fit more than it should, his lips glistening with oil and broth. It was a sight both horrifying and ridiculous at once.
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. A quick, sharp sound that immediately made her clap her hands over her mouth in panic. "I–I'm sorry!" she stammered, trying to control her trembling shoulders. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't mean to…"
Her voice trailed as she tried to replace her laughter with concern. She stepped closer, hesitating at the threshold of the messy kitchen. "Why are you eating like this? If you were hungry, you should have called me. I could have prepared something fresh for you."
But Northern ignored her. He turned back toward the scattered food and continued eating, devouring every last scrap as though the world would end if he stopped. His body shook less now, but his eyes… his eyes glowed faintly, a cold glimmer that hadn't been there before.
Emily swallowed hard, torn between fear and worry. She had never seen him this way. He wasn't just hungry—he was driven. Something inside him had changed.
After what felt like an eternity, Northern finally stopped. His breathing was heavy, ragged, but the frenzy in his eyes dimmed. He stood slowly, wiping the oil and crumbs from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Without sparing Emily a glance, he walked past her, his footsteps dragging slightly, and returned to his room in silence.
Emily remained frozen in the wreckage of the kitchen. The pots overturned, the floor littered with crumbs, sauces smeared across the table—it was as if a starving animal had been loosed into the house. Her eyes shifted toward his retreating back, unease settling in her chest.
Something about his hunger wasn't human. And she wondered why, unfortunately, there was no answer to her question.
Gently, she moved and began to pick everything up. She did it hastily because there was only an hour before school time.
Meanwhile, Northern closed the door behind him with a dull thud as he walked into his room. The silence of his room was almost oppressive compared to the chaos he had just left in the kitchen. His steps were unsteady as he moved toward the bathroom, each one echoing the weight of the thought that gnawed at his mind more fiercely than the hunger ever had.
The hunger…
It hadn't been normal. It hadn't even felt human. His body had moved without him, devouring like a starving beast, his mind buried under a tide of desperation. And when his eyes had met Emily's—when he saw that flicker of fear behind her concern, it twisted something inside him.
He closed the bathroom door and turned on the tap. Cold water rushed down in steady streams, filling the small space with its rhythmic sound. Northern leaned forward, bracing both hands on the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
His face looked pale, gaunt even, though he had just stuffed himself with food. His eyes, once calm and sharp, still faintly shimmered with that unnatural glint. He gritted his teeth.
"This… is because of the power," he muttered under his breath.
Abyssal Resonance. The forbidden ability. He had wanted control, he had wanted strength—and now, here it was. But it wasn't free. It demanded something in return, something he couldn't yet name but could feel gnawing away at him.
The hunger wasn't just for food. It was a void inside him, endless, a hollowness that no meal could satisfy.
His fingers clenched tightly against the porcelain sink, the veins in his arms standing out. For a terrifying moment, he thought he might smash the mirror in frustration. But he forced himself to breathe, shutting his eyes as the cold water continued to run.
After a long pause, he stripped off his soiled clothes and stepped into the shower. The icy stream struck his skin, shocking him into clarity. He let the water wash over him, down his face, his hair, his trembling hands.
"I asked for power," he whispered, tilting his head back under the spray. "But is this… what it really means?"
Images from the other night flickered in his mind—the surge of uncontrollable rage, the loss of himself, the moment Emily's arms wrapped around him when he was at his worst. He clenched his fists tighter. If not for her… he might have hurt someone. He might have hurt her.
The hunger, the rage, the pull of that abyssal force—it was all connected.
Northern exhaled sharply, water dripping down his chin. "No matter what it takes, I'll master this power… not the other way around."
When he finally stepped out of the shower, he felt steadier. Not whole, not free of the weight inside him, but clearer. He dried himself quickly and dressed in his uniform, adjusting the collar with carefully. His movements were slower than usual, his body still recovering from last night's strain, but his mind was set.
The faint headache lingered, the echo of something deeper than mere exhaustion. But he ignored it. He couldn't afford weakness now.
As he opened his room's door, the faint sounds of clattering dishes drifted from the kitchen. Emily was still cleaning, no doubt hurrying to finish before school. The memory of her laughter, her startled fear, and the way she had looked at him with both worry and determination… it stayed with him.
Northern pressed his lips into a thin line. Then, without a word, he made his way to the kitchen.
When he got there, he saw her carefully arranging the plates and the pots he had scattered.
"You should stop already and go get ready for school," he said to her. He was still feeling embarrassed because of earlier but there was no running away from it.
Emily paused and turned around. "Yes, Master," she said and hurried off immediately.
After she had gone, Northern sighed and went to continue from where she had stopped. The Northern in this world knew nothing about chores because they had servants surrounding him despite being looked down at because of his uselessness but the new Northern knows everything about it so doing the remaining cleaning wasn't difficult for him.
By the time Emily was out of the room, he had already finished and was already wiping his hands clean. Seeing this, she was astonished.
"Master, you—"
"Let's go," he said, cutting through her words and then led the way.
She swallowed the remaining words and followed him quietly.