As I ran up the stairs, I was truly shocked by the cognitive abilities of my mind and my vision.
Despite only catching glimpses of myself in the school windows from the corner of my eye, I could already reconstruct my appearance as if I'd been studying myself in a mirror.
It's quite the pleasant surprise, but I'm afraid that remembering everything even when I'm unfocused might become a problem—especially if I'm fighting someone strong, since my mind could be partially distracted.
Even though it's subconscious, it'll still be an issue against someone like a King if I can't focus completely.
Well, with that being said… the voice was really generous with me, huh?
Fiery dark blue hair. Pink and blue eyes that match it quite well. Almost pale white skin. Cute and handsome features—though the cute part is probably because I'm young. I should be around 14 or 15. I'm also quite tall for my age; I'm guessing between 182 and 184 cm. I can aim for at least 195 cm by 18, maybe even pass 200 cm.
I've got decent muscle mass, too—not so big it'll slow me down.
I'll still need to train, but this should be enough to beat multiple adults. If I fight to kill, I might even take a King's second-in-command.
Also, I'll admit—I thought I'd feel weird with six fingers on each hand, but that's not the case at all. Thankfully.
Well, enough of that. I'm almost at the roof, but I don't know the situation yet.
I should get ready for a fight. That Juseong guy is probably getting beaten up by bullies.
I haven't confirmed it, but he's most likely my brother—my younger brother, since we're in the same middle school. Probably a year or two younger. Could be my twin, but that's unlikely.
The girl… most likely my younger sister, too. Same dark blue hair, features resembling mine.
Alright, no more stairs—just a door. Here goes nothing.
Right before Azen opened the door, he stopped.
I'm not stupid enough to go in without some kind of plan.
He knelt, touched the ground, and closed his eyes.
Azen held his breath and began slowly reactivating his hyperacusis—controlled this time—to catch every sound from the other side of the door.
Once he'd dialed the sensitivity to a precise high level, he tapped into his hyperacuity.
For now, Azen knew of two applications beyond 20/20 vision:
Audition—locating sound sources with precision finer than the spacing of sensory cells in the cochlea, detecting micro-delays between his ears.
He credited his ability to control his hearing sensitivity to this aspect of hyperacuity, realizing he'd used it instinctively in class. Now, he consciously engaged it to pinpoint sounds in space.
Somatosensation (Touch)—discriminating fine textures and vibrations through neural processing of signals from skin receptors.
He used this to gather more intel: weight distribution, old injuries affecting gait, footwork patterns that might reveal martial arts training.
He could have gotten all this through sound alone, but he didn't want to risk misreading the data. Not now, so early in his new life.
Normally, juggling these senses would be mentally draining—but thanks to his savant syndrome, his mind processed it all with minimal effort, maximum output, and perfect control.
It took only a few seconds.
By then, he'd already mapped the situation.
One guy getting beaten in the far corner. Seven attacking him.
Three standing behind this door—one yawning, two complaining about being hungry.
Three more a few meters back from the victim: one laughing, two standing guard.
Good enough for initial recon. Now, details.
The three at the door were distracted, smoking and bored. The seven attackers were tiring—breaths growing ragged.
Only two of the three standing apart seemed alert.
Everyone else was under 60 kg and 170 cm, except those two.
One: about 68.4 kg, 174 cm.
The other: nearly 90 kg, 183 cm.
They were the only potential threats.
The lighter one controlled his breathing well—probably had martial arts training.
Both seemed to be protecting the laughing boy in the middle.
I can handle the ones at the door and the seven attackers, but those two might drain me if I'm not careful. Maybe take the laughing kid hostage.
This is the Lookism world, after all. Even middle schoolers can be stronger than real-world adults.
Intel gathered. Time to begin.
But one thing had been bothering me ever since I mapped the scene.
How is that guy—beaten for who knows how long, still taking hits—not making a single sound? He's not even trying to fight back, just protecting his face… almost like he's waiting for something.
Could he be Juseong? Well… only one way to find out.
Azen placed his hand on the door handle and slowly pushed it open.
The moment he stepped onto the roof, everything froze.
"H-hey… brother…"
The laughing boy between the two guards stopped laughing. He looked straight at Azen, an awkward, nervous smile on his face.
"Brother…?"