My head throbbed with sharp pain, as if millions of needles were stabbing me at once. I opened my eyes to a crumbling ceiling, sitting on a wooden chair, my feet not touching the ground. I tried to stand, but it was useless; I was tightly restrained.
"It's very close."
"Didn't you hear? The sage said he needs a little more time."
Two men in dark robes exchanged quick words, then turned toward me. One of them raised his hand to examine my face with scrutinizing eyes.
Damn it, being restrained while a stranger touches my face is irritating. My body felt heavy, and I barely kept my eyes open.
He withdrew his hand and began speaking quietly to his companion: "Aside from his appearance, nothing has changed."
The other approached and placed a finger on my lips, a strong scent of musk emanating from him.
I didn't hesitate.I bit his finger hard. The man flinched and pulled back, then stumbled until his foot hit the leg of the chair.
"I said he's confused… why can he still move?!"
"He is."
He raised his bleeding finger: "Then how do you explain him biting me?"
"He's confused, not dead."
The man I bit glared with a vengeful aura, pulling out a strange bottle, his intention clear.
I bared my teeth and moved my mouth as far as I could.
As he tried to force me to drink the liquid, the chair lost its balance.
'Ah…' I cursed silently. My body ached just from my head hitting the floor. It was too late; darkness enveloped me.
I looked at the two mysterious men one last time from below: 'Not again…'
After I fainted, the man touched his head, watching the blood on his fingers but postponed his concern and continued his task. He made me drink the strange liquid, then threw the bottle away while asking urgently: "What now? He doesn't seem okay."
"We don't have time to worry about him"
---
I don't know how much time passed as I sank into darkness.
"William, wake up."
Someone's breath was near my face… my cheek was wet.A faint plea pierced my ears: "William, wake up."
"I'll wake up, just stop crying on my face."
With the thought I managed to gather, I opened my eyes and sat up quickly, my head bumping into someone.
A child of about eight, with white hair and teary blue eyes, rubbed his forehead, grumbling, "This isn't fair…"
When he noticed me, he got up from the floor, jumped onto the luxurious bed, and hugged me. Despite his small size, the child was able to support almost my entire body.
"What the—"
I sensed something ominous before, but the circumstances made it impossible to identify. Now, seeing this child, I understood.
The child felt something was off, furrowing his brows in concern: "Are you still hurting anywhere… should I call the doctor?"
I smiled and pushed him away. The child widened his eyes, but that wasn't my concern.
He jumped back in fear. "Brother, is your head injury that bad?" The child was stubborn, gripping my sweaty hand insistently. I pulled my hand away, then punched him.
"Hah… William…"
I don't know if he was really hurt or just pretending, but I felt victorious watching him run to the door, shouting.
And why wouldn't I? I finally had the chance to hit the person who caused my defeat, even though he was still a child.
I tightened the blanket and looked at the window; the sun was shining outside.
"Who would've thought I'd go back twenty years?"