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Chapter Three: The Theory of Control
The air in the room was still... unbearably so.
Kane sat on the edge of the bed, his hands trembling lightly, unseen by anyone but himself, as if they refused to believe he was still alive after that brief confrontation.
He took a deep breath, then another, and closed his eyes.
Hold yourself together.
But his heart didn't listen. Its beats were like war drums inside his chest. Every strike told him what he didn't want to hear:
You were almost exposed.
The performance he gave before his father was daring to the point of recklessness. A boldness he never dreamed of in his previous life, nor even dared to think of. Yet he did it—not because he was strong, but because he was forced.
If the questions began... if his father had looked deeper into him... if his mother hadn't intervened just in time...
His stomach twisted, as if reminded by the ghost of that man. Just his voice calling "Kane" was enough to make his insides writhe. In the original story, Roman was a stern, unyielding figure. But now, in this reversed reality, he appeared even harsher than Kane had imagined.
And if Kane's bet on his mother's intervention had failed, he would have fled the table like a petty thief. Escape was a real possibility, a single moment of pressure, a simple question: "What's wrong with you?"—would have shattered all his balance.
But he endured.
Not just to protect his secret, but to create distance.
The wider the crack grew, the more they withdrew. The more they saw him as hopeless, the fewer confrontations there would be. And that was exactly what he needed.
Yet anxiety does not leave easily.
He lay back fully on the bed, staring at the ceiling as if it were a temporary escape. The room was warm, the bed neat, nothing was missing... except it wasn't his.
I am not myself. Neither is this body.
This body is strange. It holds him from the outside, but does not own him from within. The trembling, the fear, even the sweat on his palms... were all reactions coming from someone else.
How can one deal with a body he does not trust? How to protect oneself if the very tool betrays in critical moments?
Then the idea began to form.
Like a corrupted spark... but necessary.
The Rune Stone.
Rank C. Not rare, but valuable enough to bring the body closer to itself.
He recalled who first got it in the original story: a mid-rank criminal who retrieved it from an ancient cell. He used it to make his body more receptive to demonic energy, to the extent that he became a genius among humans and demons alike. He excelled... but at a high cost. He was later named "The Physical Demon," not only for his intellect but for his bizarre fusion with a power no human body should accept.
But Kane was not interested in that kind of power.
He saw something else.
A means of control.
Not over the outside... but the inside.
If he could strengthen his connection with his body, he would be able to suppress his impulses, control his biological emotions: stop adrenaline production when anxious, numb nerves during pain, suppress sweating, stabilize his heartbeat... maybe even invent faces he doesn't feel but shows.
To make himself a tight mask, nothing betraying him.
"I don't need to be stronger than them..." he whispered, "but more in tune with myself than they are."
He smiled.
Not a victorious smile. But the trembling smile that comes when a plan ripens amid the fire.
"The next step: steal the stone.
And after that... I won't just be human.
But a being beyond what this story can describe."
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After regaining some faint hope, Kane sat upright on his bed, his body refusing to bow under the weight of all he'd endured. He gazed silently ahead and murmured:
"Status window."
Suddenly, a translucent window appeared before him, glowing with a deep blue hue, framed by precise, harmonious lines, as if an ancient technological gate was opening the secret of his existence. This window was not a mere passing screen but something everyone received immediately upon waking — an undeniable fact.
The words shone before his eyes, arranged in a strict sequence that brooked no argument:
Name: Kane Numero
Potential: B
Rank: -F
Class: Killer
Affinity: None
Strength: -F
Speed: -F
Dexterity: -F
Mana: -F
Innate Talent: Absorption
Increases your body's absorption rate of consumable substances significantly
Skill: None
Kane stared long at each word, especially those carrying marks of deficiency and fragility. "Rank -F," "Affinity None," "Strength -F"... harsh words as if final judgments determining his place in this world mercilessly.
Yet his eyes settled on the line "Innate Talent: Absorption," pondering the vague description that accompanied it: "Increases your body's absorption rate of consumable substances significantly."
He silently wondered: Would this ability help me absorb the doses I will need? Could it grant me the power to surpass the limits of my worn-out body?
The answer was unclear, but the very mystery was a beacon in an unknown darkness.
The window slowly faded away, but its mark remained etched in his mind like an indelible sign.
Kane closed his eyes, trying to gather his strength. After all this, the time for preparations had come. Every step counted, every decision could open a door to survival or lead him to the abyss.
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W
ould you like me to continue with the preparations or focus more on Kane's inner conflicts before moving forward?