Nothing.
There was nothing around him but an endless black space.
Did he even have a body? He doubted that, considering he had no senses.
'Seriously, must be because of experience, but I can confidently say this is a dream and not another world. Well, I'm sure I didn't die, at least.'
There was nothing comforting about this, actually, but the boy didn't really want to wake up either way.
'Let's try to use this precious time and do what I want.'
If this was a lucid dream, then he knew exactly what he wanted to see.
'I want to see my family!'
Then, suddenly, Cassiel stood right in front of them all, feeling warm all over. He couldn't feel his body, and yet, emotion swelled in his chest.
There they were.
His family.
His real one.
The light of the kitchen buzzed above, a bit too bright. The old table with a wobbly leg, the frying pan with a melted handle, the smell of food not yet real but vivid in his memory. And voices, gosh, their voices.
"Mom, I don't want meat this evening, c'mon, stop always doing what he wants for dinner!"
His older sister. She had her arms crossed, sulking like a baby, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back a smile. Just like always.
"How could I ignore his request?" His mother scoffed, spatula in hand. "He hardly ever asks for anything, unlike you, he's not picky!"
Hardworking, firm, never missing a beat. But in her voice, you could always hear her love for life, her family and friends.
And then his dad's chuckle, the one that made the room feel smaller in the best way. "Dear, our daughter's not picky, don't say that."
The man had no shame in how soft he was for them all, but hey, special treatment was reserved especially for his sister. He'd teased her about it more than once.
"You're always siding with her, aren't you shameless!" His mother snapped, before turning, playful look in her eyes. "Don't you think the same, son?"
Cassiel's breath hitched.
He looked at her, this is only a projection from his dream, a mere version pulled from his memory.
And yet, for a moment, he forgot where he actually was. Forgot the fact that he was in another world, in a new body, with a strange new name and a new family.
'I do!' He blurted out, stepping forward. 'That's a bit unfair, dad! You're always spoiling her!' But no one turned. No heads lifted. No eyes widened.
Then, Cassiel felt a brush of cold. A body, but not one he could touch, passed through him like smoke through wind.
It was him.
"I do!" The other him exclaimed, his voice also playful. "That's a bit unfair, dad! You're always spoiling her!"
This time, everyone looked. They burst out laughing. His sister leaned on the counter, wiping a tear from her cheek. His father ruffled the boy's hair.
And suddenly, the warmth went hollow.
He had to accept reality again.
This wasn't his world.
This wasn't his house.
This wasn't his family.
Not anymore.
But most importantly...
He tried to speak, hand reaching out instinctively, only there was no hand. 'Look at me.' He whispered. 'I'm here...'
He stared at the boy, that boy, living his moment.
'That's not me. I'm right here. I'm the real one!'
Nothing. Not even a flicker.
'Please...'
The kitchen gradually fractured like glass. Their laughter got cut off. They all vanished. Only darkness remained, and the other him.
"You're not me." He said, firmly. "Don't talk as if you didn't leave them."
Cassiel couldn't handle it.
'You're not me!' The black space around him shook violently. 'I was and still am the owner of that that body!' He could hear his own voice echoing.
"Oh, really?" He innocently tilted his head. "Then why can't you go back?" His voice kept getting louder and louder. "If you really want to test that then..."
The other's face started to distort.
"Abandon this dream and die."
"Gasp!"
Cassiel's eyes snapped open, and the world hit him all at once, again.
White light burned into his eyes. It was blinding. He inhaled sharply and, once again, the scent of flowers, that heavy and sweet, almost suffocated him.
His heart was furiously beating in his chest, it was loud and surely real.
But Cassiel didn't trust it.
His lips quivered as he stared down at his fingers, pale and trembling. He clenched them into fists tightly, until his nails bit into his palms.
"Ack!"
There. That sting. He opened his hands again, seeing how red it looked.
'So I'm really back...' He sighed.
Clatter.
"Young, Young Master!" Her voice it rang out like a bell. It was Viola.
She rushed toward him, her eyes glassy with held-back tears. "Young Master," her voice broke on a sniffle, "how are you feeling? Is your body okay? Do you feel pain?"
Cassiel blinked slowly, his vision was still adjusting, after all.
His gaze lifted to meet hers.
Her face, that was always so composed,was twisted in worry now. Her eyes were puffy and her lips trembling. She looked like she hadn't slept, either.
He opened his mouth to answer.
Nothing.
Not a sound.
'What...?' His throat worked uselessly, it was dry and raw like sandpaper.
"Ah, Young Master, your throat is dry!" She gasped, already slipping an arm behind his back. Her touch was warm, steady and careful. She propped him up against the cushions, the red covers felt cold against his damp skin.
The motion made his head spin slightly though.
She brought a silver cup to his lips, her other hand supporting the base with care. The cool water touched his tongue and he felt it sliding down his throat.
"How are you feeling now, Young Master?" She asked gently, voice softer. "Better?"
He nodded once. "I'm alright, thanks." He replied, quietly. Then, the child turned his head toward the window.
Darkness. A sliver of moonlight broke through the glass and streaked across the floor.
"For how long was I unconscious?"
She paused, clearly startled by his calmness. "...Since yesterday, Young Master."
His breath hitched. He turned back to her, eyes wide.
"What?!"
It couldn't be. The sky outside was dark, he had assumed it was still the same day.
"Yes, Young Master, that's the truth." She nodded quickly, leaning closer. "We were all so worried!"
Cassiel looked at her expressions, and he couldn't help but smile. "Ah...thanks."
Viola stared at his smile, breath catching in her throat.
He was such a bright light.
Though her eyes widened at a realization.
She had never seen her Young Master smile like that.
Why? Why had she never been able to make him smile like that?
"Young Master—" She wanted to ask him something, her voice trembling slightly.
But a deep voice sliced through, interrupting her.
"I see you're awake, child."
Both of them jolted, shoulders tensing as the low voice.
Viola sprang to her feet. "G-Greetings, Your Grace!" She immediately hurried a bow, her voice trembling.
Cassiel instinctively tried to rise as well, his arms pushing against the cushions. "Greetings—"
"Don't get up." The man said, his tone gentle, but firm. "You still look terrible."
His footsteps were slow but heavy, the quiet thud of his expensive shoes against the carpeted floor was making a louder noise than it should have, but that was happening only because of the inevitable silence.
With a flick of his fingers, he dismissed the maid. She hesitated only a second before stepping back, eyes darting between the two.
The room fell silent again, save for the soft rustle of fabric and the faint ticking of the wall clock.
Cassiel took a deep breath. "I apologize, Your Grace." He looked at him, right in the eye. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."
Rhydian sighed silently, as he sat down the chair near his bed. "You can't apologise about things you can't control, kid." He said, pushing his hair back. "Kassian told me what happened. You did a good job."
The child raised his eyebrows. "What? Why?"
"You stood up to that brat." He let out a scoff. "That's not something everyone can do. This is probably the demonstration you're a Tirania, so don't feel down."
'Is he...trying to console me?'
It sure felt weird, he was no kid, after all. Nonetheless, he felt touched, to some extent.
"I see, thanks, Your Grace..." He laid down again. "I'm a bit sleepy."
Rhydian got up. "Go to sleep." He walked away towards the door, looking back before going out. "Go out more, or your complexion will always look like that."
The man was so blunt that Cassiel still had to get used to it.
'Ah, this bastard...'