The bathroom on the second floor wasn't particularly large, but after a few adjustments, it had become quite comfortable and modern.
Al stood under the shower, letting the water run over him. It flowed steadily down his hair, calm and soothing.
But that calm did nothing to ease the confusion in his mind.
He raised a hand and touched his cheek again—the same cheek his father had slapped. The sting was gone, but the memory remained vivid.
"What happened actually…?" he muttered. "That wasn't like me. It shouldn't have been possible."
He recalled the moment clearly. It was as if he had lost awareness for a split second—and the slap had landed cleanly on his face.
His defense had failed.
As if that slap had been destined to hit him no matter what.
"…Hmph?"
The impact had been real. The burning sting—just as real.
Confusion clouded his mind as two thoughts collided.
The slap had gone through.
