Being triggered doesn't mean you are broken,it means you are aware of where the wound still lives.
.....
Nothing in life is broken beyond repair.
People love saying that in this holy, sage-like tone as if they've personally glued together every shattered soul they've encountered.
I used to believe it, too.
Still do, on the days when I feel human. Which, frankly, were rare.
My choices?
Trash.
If someone handed me a pristine, divine map of my life, I'd still walk straight into a pit and complain that the earth was rude enough to collapse under me.
I wasn't "quiet-life" boring.
No.
I mean stale water boring — tasteless, invisible, and somehow still disappointing.
People found joy in things.
I stared at the same things until they stared back, unimpressed.
I wasn't a saint.
Just an idiot with a talent for repeating mistakes with religious consistency.
Every morning, I muttered:
"Today I'll be better."
Every morning, that promise evaporated before breakfast.
I wasn't old.
But I felt ancient like I had lived a century compressed into twenty-something years, and all it gave me was the sensation of being tired of everything.
Life was exhausting.
Pointless.
And worst of all — inexplicably empty. Some questions don't have neat answers.
My existence was one of them.
Pain?
Yes. That word fits everything.
People adore grading pain.
"Oh, someone has it worse!" as if that magically disinfects your wounds.
No.
A bruise or a disease — pain devours your sleep all the same.
Some people turn pain into cruelty.
Some hide behind smiles bright enough to blind prophets.
Me?
I couldn't manage either.
Whenever I hurt someone even accidentally something hollow carved itself inside me.
Soft-hearted, yes.
But soft-hearted people bruise the easiest.
And that's why this will sound insane, I'm quite grateful to that lady named Vahel.
She ended my suffering with the same casual ease someone uses to close a door.
One thought.
A flick.
Darkness.
Simple.
I didn't hate life.
I hated its rhythm.
Born. Study. Work. Marriage if lucky. Die.
Recycle the soul. Repeat.
A boring factory line.
My purpose?
I had none.
Or if I did, I never received the instruction manual.
What was your purpose for being born?
To win hearts?
No.
To cure sins and illnesses?
Hell no.
Working yourself to the bone for people who'd still blame you?
Yes.
That one fit perfectly.
I was just a tired doctor who had more patience than brain cells.
When I finally made peace with the idea that there was no restart button, that I had to suffer through the life I had.
Then universe said:
Bang. Dead.
Irrelevant.
That's how I felt.
Still feel.
If someone asked, "How was your life?"
I'd answer:
"A life lived without purpose."
If someone offered me transmigration like in those cringe wish-fulfillment novels?
I'd laugh and walk away.
Except that's exactly what I got.
And the first thing I realized?
Second chances are terrifying when the first one already beat you to pulp.
But I tried.
Clumsily.
Desperately.
Maybe that's why I ended up saving Lynn.
Or tricking Vahel.
Whichever version makes me sound less pathetic.
All that transmigration-fantasy-novel crap?
It can get lost.
But even if it was short — I lived it.
And I am grateful.
Truly.
Second chances are rare coins.
People like me only waste them.
I couldn't find my place when I was alive, not even for the people who raised me.
It still hurts.
Even if my mind was immature.
Even if my heart was exhausted.
I am responsible for my choices.
So the only good thing I can do now is give this chance to someone who actually wants it.
That's why I tricked Vahel a little and saved Lynn at the same time.
I wasn't sure if she could read my mind which made planning a pain.
If someone can kill you with a single thought, you better come up with something your own mind doesn't see coming.
I did.
And now I can drift.
Heaven or hell?
Don't care.
But I am going to heaven.
If not…...God, don't make me say it.
Whether Lynn succeeds or not ,that's his problem.
I'm dead.
I deserve peace.
Or so I believed.
But the idiot I saved opened his mouth and my desire for peace died instantly.
---
Lynn's POV
Strength wasn't the answer.
Not here.
Not in this mindscape shaped like someone else's broken memories.
The kid.
The fake city.
The scripts endlessly replaying like stubborn machinery.
It all pointed to one truth:
There had to be a way out.
And just as the thought sharpened—
"Yes, there is," the kid said, voice annoyingly bright.
"You're close, Lynny."
Lynn breathed out through his nose.
Slow. Dry. Too patient.
"Then enlighten me."
Snap.
The kid's fingers flicked and the world convulsed violently.
Not looping.
Not reversing.
Reality itself recoiled.
Buildings reassembled from dust.
Streetlights blinked awake.
Wind rushed in like a breath released after centuries.
They weren't looping anymore.
They had been moved.
The entire city reformed out of nothing, reborn in an instant.
It felt less like the world had reset and more like they had both been teleported.
"You know," the kid began, strolling ahead, hands behind his back,
"What exactly was your problem in life?"
"Are you kidding me?" Lynn muttered. "I thought we were starting round four?"
"Oh, we will" the kid assured.
"There's still time for that.
But if you answer me correctly, we can end everything right here."
Lynn blinked once.
"Don't tell me this is therapy. Again."
"Oh, absolutely."
The kid grinned. "But if you answer correctly, we can skip the whole thing."
His expression softened, just barely.
"I'm being pushed to go easy on you," he murmured.
"Someone wants you to win."
"Then do it " Lynn said. "Spare me the dramatic introductions."
"Still rude."
The kid rolled his eyes like a bored noble.
"If I let you win like that, my dignity dies.
No jokes this time. Understand this Lynn,some stories will never make sense from the outside."
"I'm certain enough about mine," Lynn replied coldly. "I don't have time to dissect yours."
"Why?"
The kid tilted his head.
"You that eager to go back home and get chewed up by that horror lady again?"
Lynn's jaw tightened.
"Or…"
The kid's eyes narrowed.
"…"…do you think so highly of yourself that you don't care about the people who lost their shot in life for your sake?"
Lynn exhaled sharply, almost a laugh.
"My sake?" Lynn scoffed.
"No one would do that. Not that I remember. "
He looked away.
"As for the one Vahel dumped in front of me,he took a chance. That's it.
If someone wants to sacrifice themselves for me, fine.
I won't stop them."
"Interesting," the kid said, voice flat.
"And expectations only kill people," Lynn continued.
"So I stopped having them."
The city flickered faintly.
Or his mind did.
"You've changed since your mana returned," the kid whispered.
"No. I'm just clearer."
The kid watched him, just plainly.
Lynn said, unwavering.
"I know what I have to do.
You don't,right?"
"Not exactly," the kid said, tapping his chin. "My original objective was different from the one I have now."
"You wanted to test my abilities" Lynn replied.
"The one in my body has no mana, so he needs to know what I'm capable of before doing anything idiotic.
Isn't that right, kid?"
An impressed smile crawled across the kid's face.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
"Bingo, Lynny.
You're not as brainless as you look."
Then Lynn said, voice calm and deadly steady:
"You know why all this happened.
The resets. You. This world."
"You can tell me,i am all ears" the kid whispered.
"The wish I made was simple," Lynn said.
"To find the strongest version of myself for the job."
The wind froze.
"And because of that… he died.
That's the truth,right?
Well, he would have died pathetically somehow anyway.
So why feel so much?
Anyone could tell by just looking at his face,that he was going to be just a goner either way."
The kid didn't blink.
"But what did I get?" Lynn exhaled.
"He was the weakest version anyone could find across worlds."
A small tremor moved through the false sky.
"He wasn't built for my life, that's HIS BAD LUCK ." Lynn said softly.
"So don't look at me like I stole something precious."
The kid stared.
Silent.
Hollow.
"…People who give something up willingly often receive more" he whispered.
"That ideology kills people," Lynn replied. "He died early for a reason."
The kid's voice dropped.
"Is that what you believe?"
"It's the truth anyway."
A long silence.
A closing of a book.
Then the kid smiled.
Just finally.
"Keep holding on to your truth, Lynn."
He lifted a hand.
The world stilled.
Air thickened.
"To be honest," he said calmly,
"I was planning to let you go home after poking you a little."
A beat.
"But now…"
His eyes darkened.
"…since you're so hung up on not getting your wish fulfilled—"
He grinned.
"I'm going to fulfill it for you, bastard."