Soren Arden POV
"Ugh…"
Soren's eyes fluttered open to a white ceiling and the faint herbal scent of salves.
His throat was dry, and a dull ache pulsed in his arm.
For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling before realising exactly where he was.
'…The infirmary again.'
He let out a slow exhale and covered his eyes with his palm.
His body still felt heavy, but the fact that he could even feel was proof enough that he was still alive.
A shaky breath escaped his lips as the memories caught up to him; the sound of steel slicing through the air, the cold touch of metal against his neck, the sudden absence of everything.
He had really thought that was it.
"Phew… I'm alive…" he muttered quietly, half-laughing in disbelief.
The words barely left his mouth when a faint, trembling voice reached his ears.
"S-Soren?"
Before he could turn toward the sound, something soft and warm crashed into him, wrapping around him with enough force to make him grunt.
"Lou—"
He couldn't finish before her arms squeezed tighter. Her whole body trembled against him.
"You're okay! Thank the goddess… you're okay…"
Her voice cracked halfway through.
For a second, Soren didn't move.
His brain was still catching up to what was happening.
Then, hesitantly, he lifted his hand and patted her back, awkwardly at first, then a little more naturally.
"It's okay, Louise. Don't worry. See? I'm fine."
The words came out calm, but inside, he wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure — her or himself.
He could feel her shoulders shaking.
Her tears were soaking through his shirt, and the guilt that always followed her affection crept up again.
'Why did things have to go like that…?'
He had expected to be hurt; it was the only way to win against someone like Ivan.
But the moment that blade passed through his neck, it hadn't been just pain; it had been death.
The memory alone made his stomach twist.
'That bastard really tried to kill me.'
It was still hard to believe.
Even if Ivan hated humans, this wasn't just prejudice; it was madness.
And yet, despite the vivid memory of blood and pain, there wasn't even a scar left.
He brought a hand to his neck, fingers brushing smooth skin.
"…No way."
"There's no wound," Louise whispered against his shoulder, her voice muffled but certain.
He swallowed.
"That doesn't make sense…"
He remembered the sensation far too clearly for it to have been a dream.
The duel, the pain, the sound of the crowd gasping, all of it was too real.
And yet, here he was.
He wanted to think about it, but the gentle weight of the person clinging to him made that impossible.
"…Louise," he murmured softly, "what happened to Ivan?"
Louise pulled back slightly, her red eyes swollen from crying.
"Ivan? You mean your opponent? Um… Miss Einhardt said she'd talk to her father about it."
"Then… it's fine."
If Amelia's father, the King of Einhardt, was getting involved, that meant Ivan's fate was sealed.
Soren let out a slow breath, letting the tension drain from his shoulder, but as his mind finally began to settle, he noticed something strange.
Louise was still holding onto him, even though he was sitting upright now.
Her hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt like she was afraid he would vanish if she let go.
"…Louise?"
"Y-yeah?"
"You're shaking."
She froze at his words, then forced out a laugh that sounded anything but natural.
"I'm fine. Just… tired."
Soren tilted his head.
"You sure?"
Louise nodded quickly, too quickly, and looked away, as if that would make the lie less obvious.
He wanted to say something more, but she beat him to it.
"Hey… why are you suddenly acting all stiff? Just be normal."
It was such a Louise thing to say that he almost smiled.
"It feels weird when you call me by my name, Soren," she added under her breath.
"Soren?" he said with mock confusion.
She shot him a faint glare through her tears. "…Little Brother."
"That's better," he said quietly. "What's wrong, Sis?"
She hesitated for a long moment before speaking again.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't help you."
Soren blinked.
"Huh?"
Her hands curled into fists on her lap.
"You almost died, and I wasn't even able to help. I should've… I don't know. I should've done something."
"Louise, what are you talking about?"
"I'm your family!" she suddenly shouted, her voice cracking as more tears slipped down her cheeks. "And I wasn't even there! When you… when you fell, I thought—" Her voice broke. "I thought you were gone."
She choked back a sob and covered her mouth.
Soren stared at her in stunned silence.
It wasn't the first time someone had worried for him since he came to this world, but this felt different.
There wasn't guilt, obligation, or expectation behind it, only raw fear and relief.
Still, the words 'I'm your family' echoed in his head like a weight he didn't know how to carry.
He lowered his gaze.
"…Sis, you know it's not your fault, right? The duel happened because Ivan's an idiot. You couldn't have stopped that."
"I know," she whispered, voice trembling. "But knowing doesn't make it hurt less."
Soren looked at her for a long time.
Her hands were shaking, her cheeks still wet, her eyes swollen, and yet she was still trying to smile at him. It was messy and ungraceful, but honest.
And that honesty was what hurt the most.
Because every time she called him "Little Brother," he was reminded that she wasn't really talking to 'him', to Isaac.
She was talking to the one who should've been here; the original Soren.
The one whose life he had taken over.
'You shouldn't be treating me like this,' he thought bitterly.
"Hey," he said after a pause, his voice lower now. "Look at me."
Louise hesitated, then lifted her head.
Her eyes were red and puffy. Her lips quivered as she tried to stop crying.
Soren sighed softly and reached for the box of tissues beside him.
"Look at you. You're a mess."
He wiped her face gently, and she didn't move away, just sat there, trembling, eyes locked on his.
"Listen, Sis. You haven't done anything wrong. The only one to blame for that duel is Ivan. He challenged me, lost his temper, and went too far. That's all. You don't have to carry that."
She bit her lip.
"But—"
"No buts."
He crumpled the tissue, tossed it into the bin, and, without thinking, pulled her back into a hug.
Her breath caught.
Then, slowly, her arms wrapped around him again.
"It's hard for me when you cry like that," he admitted quietly. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do."
Louise laughed softly through her tears.
"You're doing fine."
Her voice trembled, but this time, it wasn't from sadness.
"Little Brother," she whispered, gripping his shirt, "I'm sorry."
But the tone was different now; no guilt, no self-blame, just an apology for worrying him.
"…You really are impossible," Soren muttered.
He stayed like that for a while, listening to her breathing steady against his chest.
Slowly, the tension in her body melted away, replaced by the familiar warmth that only she seemed to carry.
When he finally pulled back, Louise's eyes were still glossy, but her smile was soft, fragile, and real.
Seeing it, something inside him eased.
It had been so long since the word 'family' hadn't hurt.
In his old world, family meant raised voices, bruised skin, and nights spent wishing the next day wouldn't come.
It was a word that had always tasted bitter.
But looking at Louise now, red-eyed, exhausted, and still worrying about him, he felt that bitterness dissolve just a little.
Maybe this was what it was supposed to mean.
Maybe 'family' wasn't supposed to hurt.
"Sis," he said quietly.
She looked at him, surprised by the softness in his voice.
"…Thanks."
"For what?"
"For being you," he said simply.
Her eyes widened for a second before she broke into a smile that made her look younger than ever.
"Idiot," she whispered, swatting his arm lightly. "Don't say stuff like that, you'll make me cry again."
"You're already crying."
"I can cry more, you know."
He chuckled, a small, genuine laugh that felt strange in his throat.
"Then I'll take it back."
"Nope. Too late."
Their laughter mixed together quietly, filling the infirmary with a warmth that neither of them could put into words.
He didn't know if he could ever be the real Soren she remembered, but maybe that didn't matter.
Maybe being the one standing here now was enough.
Grumble
A deep, unmistakable sound broke the peace.
They both froze.
Soren's face immediately flushed red as he covered his mouth.
"…That wasn't me."
Louise raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
"Really?"
He groaned and covered his face entirely.
She giggled, her earlier tears replaced by amusement.
"You must be starving. You've been out for a while."
That explained her reaction. He'd really scared her.
He sighed, rubbing his neck sheepishly.
"…Sorry for worrying you."
Louise smiled faintly.
"Apology accepted. But only if you eat properly from now on."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good."
She stood up, brushing off her skirt, then extended her hand to him with a grin.
"Come on, Little Brother. Let's go get something to eat."
He hesitated for half a second, staring at her hand, at the warmth she offered so freely, then reached out and took it.
"Yeah," he said softly, smiling, "let's go, Sis."
And as they walked out of the infirmary together, Soren realised something simple yet profound.
He wasn't just accepting her.
He wanted to.
For the first time in a long time, he truly wanted to call someone family.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
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▶ ù̷̥͇̹̽́o̶̜̊l̷̡̔͂̅S̸̥͕̬̔̐́̉̀ͅ ̴̤̝͎̅͐̓̓͝i̸̢̳͙̮͚̽̂ṉ̴̡̧̧͋̅̐e̶̩̓̾̆̀̃g̸̗͌̉̓̑̚r̵̠̠͎̱̟͛̾̚M̵̢̙̣̒͑͂͐g̶̛̪͛̍̀ ȍ̶̠̘̬̳̩͍̣̩̒͗̿̉̀͝f̷̟͊́̉͋̑͑̽̈̕̚͘͘ ̵̛̠̗̞̠̌̀̏͛̈́̒͆̄̄̕ͅͅḮ̴̪͎̙̮̲̳͌̄̒̇̉͆̒͂̊́̓̉s̶̺̭̗͓̯̭̮̜̭͎͍͕͓̏̉̈́̅͌͗̔̏͌̀͋͋̉͜͜a̵̧̘͇̤̻͖̠̮͋͂́̓̓͒͠a̶̦͙̜̜̜͉̝̜̺̓̏͌c̸̰͚͍̺̮͚͚̳̮̥̠͗̀̓̔̐͝ ̴̛̝̥͉̟̓̈́̇͜͝a̷̡̳̮̰̯͍͉̩̮͓͍̥̟͆͐͑͜͜n̴̬̫͇̫̜̘̤̼̾̇̎̏̈͊̀͘͜͜d̶̡͖̤͕̮̯̫̑̇͋̂͒̎͝͠ ̵̢̜͈͔̮̗̝̠̠͚͑̏͜S̶͉͔̬͔̯̊̎͐̔̔͝o̶͖̭̩͂̄̌̍̐͗̅͜͝r̷̡͓̥̦͕̹̯̬̽̾̽͗͂̃̉̽̋̊͛̐̒͝ë̵͇̘̺̮͉̥͈̌̇̋̆̑̕n̷͈̘͚͍̞̹̰̱͈͉̼̘̹͆̑̒̌:̴̻̹͉̌̈́ ̵͖̝̽̂̋̍͌13%̸͉̓͑̈̅͗ ◀
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————「❤︎」————