Chapter 12: "Cultivators, Neck Kisses, and the Art of Not Exploding in Public"
From Evan's Point of View – now 12% cooler, according to unverified internal estimates.
Evan's body was dead. Not like actual dead, but the kind of dead where your muscles cry softly for mercy and every step feels like you've aged a thousand years.
So Asterion—being Asterion—took over.
After all, what were nearly a thousand years of cultivation, combat training, and spiritual enlightenment for, if not hijacking a teenager's body when it was too tired to function?
He'd already dragged the body back from the park, hit the shower (thank you modern plumbing), and changed into something that didn't smell like defeat and squirrel terror. Now he descended the stairs of the Mercer household with the casual grace of someone not experiencing muscle failure.
The kitchen smelled like warm heaven. Eggs, toast, sizzling bacon—probably the kind of meal warriors dreamed about after battle. Sitting at the table were the usual suspects:
Selene Mercer, beautiful, brilliant, and currently sipping coffee like she hadn't built a bazooka that could vaporize ghosts with a sneeze.
Garrick Mercer, human tank, tactical chaos engine, wearing a bright orange apron over what looked suspiciously like pajama pants. Possibly his only outfit.
Lena Mercer, stoic queen of the teenage intellects, nose deep in a 600-page monstrosity titled "Post-Mortem Psychic Residue: A Multidimensional Analysis."
Asterion, perfectly impersonating Evan—except, you know, with functioning posture and slightly better spiritual alignment—walked into the kitchen with a grin.
Selene looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Evan! I saw you coming back from your jog earlier. I'm proud of you."
Jog. Right. Asterion had parkoured through the park like gravity had personally offended him, but sure. "Jog."
Garrick thumped his massive fist on the table, making the salt shaker jump. "That's my boy! You keep that up and you'll be punching through ghosts in no time! Want me to build you some training gauntlets? Or a punching dummy filled with ectoplasm? Or an ectoplasmic punching gauntlet with dummies inside?!"
Asterion chuckled, easing into the seat with the confidence of a man who had faced far worse things than an enthusiastic father with access to experimental weapons.
"I'll let you know, Dad. Maybe next week."
Lena didn't look up from her book, but her eyebrows did lift half a centimeter. In Lena-speak, that was the equivalent of a standing ovation.
Then came the food.
Asterion started piling it onto his plate like he'd been possessed by a sumo wrestler. Eggs. Toast. Six pieces of bacon. Pancakes. Fruit. Another pancake. Butter. Three slices of honey-drizzled toast. If it was edible, it was on his plate—and some of it was on other people's plates.
He started devouring it like a starving man who hadn't seen food in weeks.
Everyone stopped eating to watch him.
Even Lena blinked.
"…What are you doing?" Selene asked carefully, her "concerned mom" voice starting to creep in.
Asterion wiped his mouth and grinned. "Relax, Mom. I'm just really hungry. Look—totally fine. Full of life."
He gestured to Evan's body as if that explained anything.
Garrick stood so fast his chair screeched across the tile.
"THIS IS THE WORK OF AN ENEMY GHOST! TO THE BAT CAVE!"
He bolted upstairs, apron flapping like a heroic cape.
Lena muttered, "We don't have a bat cave…" but nobody stopped him.
Asterion kept eating.
Lena kept staring.
"I never thought I'd see something like this in real life," she murmured. "This feels like watching one of those alien possession documentaries."
Asterion glanced at her over his glass of orange juice.
"I'm hungry, Lena. Try not to diagnose me before breakfast is over."
Lena narrowed her eyes. "You don't usually eat enough for three people."
"New habits."
"Suspicious," she said, eyes narrowing further, but she turned back to her book like a shark circling for later.
Asterion didn't mind. His job wasn't to hide everything—just enough. Too much mystery, and people got paranoid. Too much truth, and Evan might end up locked in a laboratory.
Balance.
As Evan's body processed the food, Asterion began directing the energy where it was most needed: rebuilding muscle tissue, restoring depleted reserves, speeding recovery.
Not bad for Earth food.
But compared to the spirit-rich meat and medicinal cuisine of his own world, it was painfully ordinary.
Still, this would do.
For now.
Upstairs, Garrick returned triumphantly wearing half a jumpsuit, goggles, and a flamethrower.
"I'm ready!"
Lena didn't even blink. "He just had a big breakfast."
Garrick paused.
"So… no ghost possession?"
Lena flipped a page. "Not yet."
Asterion gave them both a bright, totally innocent smile.
"Pass the syrup?"
The breakfast chaos had just begun to settle when Asterion, still in Evan's body, leaned back in his chair with a theatrical sigh, the kind only achievable after consuming three breakfasts and a possibly-illegal amount of syrup.
"Well, reality is often stranger than fiction, Lena," he said. "Speaking of strange—how's your love life? Need help finding a boyfriend?"
Lena didn't even flinch.
Her eyebrow rose so slowly it could have shattered steel.
"Evan, I will slap you."
Asterion grinned wider.
"Relax, sis. I'm serious. I love you. Those boys out there? Most of them are idiots. Blind ones, apparently."
Lena folded her arms, and her book closed with a dramatic snap.
"Flattery doesn't work on me. Especially not when you're suddenly trying to play matchmaker. And you, mister breakfast goblin, are in no position to give romantic advice."
Asterion clicked his tongue.
"Unfortunately for you, I've got flowers in both hands."
"Mara," Lena and Selene chorused like a well-rehearsed sitcom gag.
"Not exactly difficult," Lena shot back, unbothered. "Try someone who isn't already halfway in love with you and get that to work. Then maybe I'll take you seriously."
Asterion leaned forward, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"You're letting your pride get in the way of education, Lena. And as your loving younger brother, I hereby offer you a deal."
He paused for effect.
"Let me date you."
Lena choked on her orange juice.
Selene calmly turned a page of the newspaper like this was just a Tuesday.
"I'm sorry," Lena said, dabbing at her mouth. "Did you just suggest—"
"Fake date," Asterion clarified. "For a week. I'll show you how to read men, how to deal with them, what they're actually thinking instead of what they pretend they're thinking."
Lena gave him a long, measured stare—the kind of stare usually reserved for haunted dolls and unmarked ghost portals.
"You're betraying your kind."
Asterion placed a hand over his chest.
"I have no loyalty to fools merely because we share a gender."
Lena sighed like someone who'd accidentally opened Pandora's Box and then decided to keep it as a footrest.
"Fine. You pull this off, and I'll buy you a PS3."
Asterion paused.
He searched Evan's memories for half a second.
"Second controller too."
"Don't push your luck."
"Then we have a deal. We start tomorrow. Today's busy."
Lena stood slowly, her book tucked under one arm, but her expression lingered in the realm of confused suspicion.
Evan had been a walking poster child for awkward teen syndrome just yesterday.
Now he was talking like someone who had spent years studying people.
She grabbed her bag and paused at the doorway.
"Take care at school, Evan," she said, her voice laced with dry amusement. "Try not to get bullied."
Asterion raised his toast in acknowledgment.
"I'll do my best."
As Lena walked out the door, she could feel the grin still lingering on her brother's face.
Or... whoever was in there now.
Something was definitely up.
Okay. So picture this.
You're sitting at your kitchen table, casually chewing on a piece of bacon like a normal teenager who didn't just get possessed by a dead interdimensional cultivator-warrior.
Your sister is walking out the door, muttering something about "emotional manipulation" and "PS3s" under her breath. Your dad is yelling from the basement about ectoplasmic interference in the waffle iron. Your mom is sipping coffee and smiling like this morning is completely normal.
And you?
You just came back into your body after Asterion borrowed it without asking—and somehow left it stronger than he found it.
Yeah.
Welcome to my life.
One second I was floating in the corner of my own mind, and the next—bam! I'm back in the driver's seat.
My eyes blinked open, my hands still wrapped around a now-empty plate.
Seriously, how much did he eat?
I shifted in my chair—and that's when I noticed it.
The soreness?
Gone.
Completely.
Like I'd never sprinted through a park while being harassed by possessed squirrels.
But more than that...
I felt good.
Like, weirdly good.
My body didn't just feel healed—it felt stronger. My spine was straighter. My arms felt more solid. My posture was actually decent, which, for a teenage boy, is basically a miracle on par with walking on water.
I looked down at my hands, then flexed them under the table just to check.
Nope.
Still mine.
Just... better?
"Okay," I muttered under my breath, "what the heck?"
That's when I heard the voice.
In my head.
Smug.
Calm.
Entirely too pleased with himself.
"You're welcome."
Asterion.
Of course.
I leaned back in my chair and casually rubbed the back of my neck, hoping my parents wouldn't notice that their son was currently having a telepathic conversation with an ancient cultivator.
You know.
As one does.
"Hey," I said mentally, "what was all that about? You flirting with Lena like you were trying to ruin my life?"
Asterion gave me a mental chuckle.
"Relax. I was helping your sister with something she's clearly inexperienced with."
"A good brother doesn't fake date his sister."
"She agreed."
Okay.
Technically yes.
But only because she was more curious than cautious and because I'm pretty sure she's two days away from writing her own psychology thesis on me.
I sighed and stabbed a leftover grape off my plate.
"Next time, maybe ask before you turn me into some kind of relationship expert."
"I'll consider it."
That sounded suspiciously like no.
Selene gave me a look from across the table.
"Everything alright, sweetie?"
"Yup! All good!" I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just... uh... thinking about the mitochondria. You know. Powerhouse of the cell. Love that guy."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but went back to her coffee.
Crisis barely averted.
Inside, Asterion chuckled.
"You're welcome for the muscle recovery, by the way. I cleared the damaged tissue and guided the energy where it was needed. You were walking like an injured shrimp."
That made me blink.
"Wait—so all that soreness yesterday—"
"Training damage. Your body is adapting. It'll get easier."
Well, okay.
I had asked him to train me.
I just didn't expect it to be the kind of training that made squirrels scream and Lena threaten violence over toast.
Still...
I rolled my shoulder and, yeah, it did feel pretty awesome.
I stood up, grabbed my backpack, and slung it over one shoulder like some kind of anime protagonist heading to a dramatic high school arc.
The weight felt lighter.
I felt lighter.
Stronger.
Weirder.
But... better?
As I walked to the door, I glanced back at the kitchen.
Garrick was now wearing goggles and stuffing waffles into a device labeled "GHOST-TOAST 9000."
Mom was measuring ectoplasm on the table with a butter knife.
Lena had left behind her book titled "Spectral Influence and Unconscious Bias."
When I stepped outside that morning, I was not expecting to feel like a main character in a teen romance drama directed by an ancient cultivator living in my head.
But, you know, life's full of surprises.
Especially when your soul's been sharing space with a thousand-year-old mentor who apparently believes romance deserves the same decisive approach as combat.
I barely got three steps down the porch before I spotted her.
Mara.
Standing right there at the front gate of my house, dressed in her usual goth-chic outfit, fingers fidgeting with the straps of her bag like she was debating whether to storm the castle or run away from it.
Her face was uncharacteristically unsure.
For a girl who usually walked like she owned the world (and maybe had plans to burn it down if it didn't recycle properly), this was… new.
And apparently, my cue.
"Go," Asterion murmured in the back of my mind. "Stop thinking so much."
Right.
Instinct.
The thing that usually made me trip over my own feet or say things like "hey-I-like-your-hair-what's-it-made-of."
But this time…
I didn't hesitate.
I walked right up to her.
Slipped my arms around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She jolted in surprise—honestly, so did I a little—but I didn't let it show.
"Hey there, beautiful," I said, in a tone that would've made my past self explode from secondhand embarrassment.
Mara froze for a millisecond.
Her breath hitched.
Then I leaned in, letting the soft scent of her lavender shampoo hit me right before I pressed a light kiss to the curve of her neck.
She shivered.
Like, a full-on actual shiver.
Which…
Okay, not gonna lie, was really satisfying.
"Hya—" she squeaked, her voice cracking in that adorable way she always pretended never happened.
But she didn't pull away.
Instead, she leaned back against me, relaxing into the hug.
"I feel the same," she murmured, so soft I almost thought I imagined it. "I couldn't wait to see you."
I smiled, feeling like I'd just unlocked a secret level in the game of life.
I spun her gently around so we were face to face.
Her eyes found mine, and there it was—that glimmer of challenge, that spark of mischief.
She wasn't just happy to see me.
She was daring me to keep up.
Which, thanks to Asterion, I might actually be able to do now.
"Of course you couldn't," I teased. "Our chemistry is too strong to ignore. Like Mentos and soda. But hotter."
She groaned, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her.
"You're lucky I like you, dork."
"Only slightly lucky," I replied, winking. "Did you sleep well?"
Her smirk returned, slow and knowing.
"A good dream."
Oh boy.
We kissed—soft, electric, and short enough to be legal in front of my neighbors.
I wasn't even thinking anymore.
Everything just felt right.
Then Mara broke away, that twinkle in her eye now dialed up to full sparkle mode.
"We'd better get going, Romeo," she said. "Or we're going to be late for school."
I grabbed her hand.
"Right behind you, Juliet. Lead the way."
As we started walking toward school, hand in hand like a scene from some painfully ideal YA novel, I heard Asterion's quiet voice in the back of my mind.
"Better."
That was it.
No applause.
No speech.
Just one annoyingly satisfied word.
I didn't answer.
I just smiled.
For once, I wasn't stumbling through the morning like a zombie. I wasn't overthinking every word or worrying about what she thought of me.
I was just… in the moment.
With her.
And even though ghosts, school, and maybe a few emotionally unstable lunchladies were still waiting to ruin my day…
Right now?
I felt unstoppable.