I don't really remember much of my childhood in this life. Most of it's blurry, like trying to recall a dream that already faded by the time you wake up.
Faces, places, even moments that should feel familiar just… don't.
Things only started to feel clear after I woke up a few days ago.
It wasn't dramatic or sudden. More like a fog slowly lifting. My thoughts felt more aligned. My senses sharper.
For the first time, it felt like I was properly in my body, instead of just tagging along inside it.
That said, I felt a bit of anticipation now that my parents were taking me back home. From what little I could remember, the place I lived in before the coma was… big. Like, really big.
A full-blown mansion, most likely.
Without a doubt, I was curious to revisit the place where I grew up in this lifetime. The coma had turned most memories into vague impressions, disconnected and hazy.
Leaving the confines of Cadia's Private Hospital, the car ride with my parents—Neil and Amanda—was peaceful and oddly heartwarming.
As usual, Mom couldn't stop talking or hugging me, like she was worried I might disappear again if she let go.
After three days of light rehab, I could now walk for longer periods—though my pace was still painfully slow. Snail-like was generous. I was fairly confident I could crawl faster than I could walk at this point.
Which also meant the wheelchair was my primary mode of transportation.
I fully intended to burn this damn man-powered "vehicle" the moment I no longer needed it.
The car ride lasted a while. About forty minutes of traffic later, we arrived at a gate.
A massive gate.A tall gate.And walls so high and long they stretched endlessly to both sides.
At least, when standing in front of it, you couldn't even tell where the walls ended.
At some point earlier, we had already crossed the city border and headed south. This place was clearly far removed from urban sprawl.
It was the second month of the year, which meant deep summer. El Malais Kingdom sat near the equatorial line, so the climate only had two modes: hot and humid as hell, or flooding and cold as hell. No in-between.
The massive gate opened automatically, and the driver steered the car inside smoothly.
Beyond the gate, far ahead, I could see the outlines of several large buildings. Along the road were smaller structures scattered among dense greenery. Trees, trimmed hedges, open lawns. The air felt noticeably fresher—cooler too, despite the season.
I watched everything with interest as the car continued forward, until it finally stopped in front of the largest building at the center of the estate.
Already waiting at the foot of the stairs were rows of men and women, lined up neatly. Their uniforms were clean and formal—similar to maid and butler attire, but not quite the same.
The clothing covered more skin and looked far less restrictive, especially for the women. Practical. Elegant. It reminded me more of traditional attire than the overly revealing styles common back on modern Earth.
As soon as the car stopped, a butler stepped forward and opened the door.
Without a word, he helped me out and transferred me onto a wheelchair that I hadn't even noticed being brought over.
You could tell immediately—these people were exceptionally well trained.
When all three of us exits the car, they all voiced formal greetings in unison. My Dad gave a nod of acknowledgement then raise his right hand. A cue for everyone to get back to their station or continue what they were doing before.
Except for two people. A pair of man and woman, and from their attires, it's obvious that they are not employees here.
Led by the man in front, the woman stood at his right flank, as they move to stand in front of my Dad and Mom.
The butler who helps me get unto the wheelchair then proceed to walk behind me and push me slowly up the flat slope pavement at the side of the stairs.
Reaching the top side, my Mom replaced the butler in pushing the wheelchair, having left Dad to talk to the pair below the stairs.
"How was the car ride, baby? Any discomfort?" Mom asked,
Which I answered, "It was fine, Mom. The ride was very smooth. I like it."
She chuckled softly in relief and said, "Alright, let's go inside."
Once we moved inside, I finally got a proper look at the place.
And yeah—mansion was underselling it.
The interior felt lived-in rather than flashy. High ceilings, wide corridors. Sunlight poured in through tall windows framed with wooden latticework, casting long shadows across polished floors that reflected just enough light to feel warm instead of blinding.
The air carried a faint mix of clean linen, polished wood, and something herbal. As my wheelchair rolled forward, my eyes kept drifting from corner to corner, unconsciously cataloging everything. Columns. Wall carvings. Subtle engravings near door frames that looked decorative at first glance, but had patterns repeating.
I'd seen this before. Not clearly. More like impressions.
The curve of a hallway felt familiar. A staircase railing triggered something in the back of my head. A turn to the left, then another right—my body reacted before my thoughts caught up.
We passed a wide hall with a hanging banner—dark fabric, embroidered with a sigil I couldn't fully recall the meaning of.
Bit by bit, the blur started to loosen. Clarity seeping in, slowly, like ink spreading through water.
As staff members passed by, some of them paused, offering polite bows or brief smiles. At first, they were just uniforms to me.
Then one of the maids glanced at me with relief. "Young Master…" she muttered.
Another maid nearby straightened, eyes slightly red. An older butler pressed a hand to his chest and had a genuine smile etched on his lips.
And suddenly, names surfaced.
I didn't remember where I'd learned them, but I knew who had been here before the coma—and who had stayed.
Some of them had changed a little. Older. More tired around the eyes. Others looked exactly the same, like time had passed them by politely.
They'd been around long before I went under.
As we moved deeper inside, more fragments aligned. Which corridors led to private quarters. Which halls were off-limits without permission. Which turn led to a sunlit indoor garden I vaguely remembered sitting in once, listening to water trickle over stone.
I'd recognized them.
And the longer I looked around, the easier it became.
....
Neil remained at the foot of the stairs as the others moved inside.
His attention was already on the pair waiting before him.
The man stepped forward first—tall, lean, dressed in a simple coat rather than formal wear. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, yet there was a sharpness in his eyes that marked him as someone who missed very little.
"Lord Malais," the man greeted with a slight bow. "It's good to see you again."
Neil nodded in return. "Dr. Dwargo. Addressing me with Mr. Bohrson will suffice."
Alex Dwargo straightened, hands slipping into his pockets with practiced ease. He didn't reply, but offered a light smile.
The man carried himself like someone confident not only in his knowledge, but also in the results it produced.
Beside him stood a woman with long black hair tied neatly behind her head. Elis Weiss. She offered a polite bow, quieter and more reserved, her gaze briefly flicking toward the mansion entrance before returning to Neil.
"I assume the transfer went smoothly?" Alex asked.
"No complications," Neil replied. "Zachary handled the ride well. Better than expected."
A faint smile tugged at Alex's lips. He gestured lightly with two fingers, and Elis stepped forward, unfolding a slim tablet and activating its display. Lines of data scrolled across the surface—vital trends, rehab logs, muscle response summaries.
"Three days of in-hospital rehabilitation," Alex continued, eyes scanning the information without needing to look directly at it. "Motor coordination returning faster than baseline projections. Balance recovery is ahead of schedule. Muscle atrophy is present, but not severe."
He finally looked toward the mansion doors Zachary had disappeared through.
"The foundation is solid," Alex said. "That's the important part."
Neil crossed his arms behind his back. "How aggressive can we be?"
Alex tilted his head slightly, considering. "More than a standard recovery plan."
That earned a subtle narrowing of Neil's eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you don't speak in puzzles with me."
Elis spoke for the first time, her voice calm and measured. "The initial phase will focus on stabilization and controlled growth. Daily rehabilitation sessions, adjusted dynamically. We'll transition from assisted movement to resistance and adaptive strength training within weeks—assuming no setbacks."
Neil nodded slowly.
"And mentally?" he asked.
Alex's expression shifted—not concern, but interest.
"Sharp," he said. "Very sharp. Alert. Observant. No signs of cognitive delay or confusion. If anything…" He paused, then smiled. "He's paying attention in ways most patients don't."
Neil exhaled quietly.
"Good," he said. "I want him guided properly. No shortcuts."
Alex replied easily. "I'll be overseeing his schedule personally. Elis will manage monitoring and adjustments."
"Then we begin today," Neil said.