Ren slowly opened his eyes.
Above him stretched a ceiling adorned with intricate golden patterns, glimmering faintly in the morning light. The scent of polished wood and soft incense filled the air. He turned his head slightly, blinking at the grand room around him — velvet curtains, carved furniture, and warm sunlight pouring through tall windows.
It was nothing like the cold, brutal walls of the facility.
He tried to move, but pain surged through his body, and his limbs barely responded.
The door creaked open.
A young maid stepped in and gasped. "He's awake!" she called out, eyes wide. Without waiting, she darted out of the room.
Moments later, the door opened again — this time with a rush of footsteps. A group of people entered: maids and a butler, followed by three figures who stood apart in stature and presence.
A woman with soft amber eyes walked up to him and gently placed a hand on his forehead.
"No fever. His body temperature is stable," she said calmly.
A maid stepped forward and helped Ren sit up against the cushions, careful not to aggravate his injuries.
The others settled into the room. Despite their strength and reputation, they carried themselves gently, as if trying not to startle the boy.
Eldric spoke. "Tell us about yourself, kid. No pressure."
Ren hesitated.
Then slowly, he began to speak — about the strange land he had awoken in, the cruel prison, the endless days of labor, and the only friend he had: Fin. His voice faltered as he spoke of Fin's death, the escape that failed, the pain that followed.
But he kept the truth of his arrival — the light, the teleportation, and the world he had come from — hidden deep in his heart.
When he finished, silence filled the room.
The silver-haired man stepped closer. "I'm Thorne Eldric. Swordsman and frontliner of this party."
He gestured to the woman beside him — strong, poised, with long crimson hair.
"This is Thalira, our leader."
Thalira nodded with a firm but kind look.
"And the one who healed you," Eldric continued, "is our mage, Liora."
Liora gave a gentle smile.
"You've been through more than most ever should," Thalira said. "And since you've never had a place in this world… let us give you one."
"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like," Eldric added. "We'll teach you about this world. Its ways. Its dangers. Its hopes."
"If you ever need anything," Liora said softly, "just ask the maids or the butler. You're not alone anymore."
Ren continued to heal under Liora's careful watch. Her hands, glowing faintly with warm healing light, became a daily comfort — a quiet promise that his suffering was not in vain. Bit by bit, the shattered bones that once left him paralyzed began to mend. The deep bruises faded, and the jagged scars along his back slowly smoothed beneath her magic.
Some days, the pain flared — old wounds screaming as they knit themselves together. But Liora never wavered. She would sit beside him, her presence calm, her magic steady, whispering gentle reassurances when the agony became too much to bear.
"You're doing well," she'd murmur, brushing damp hair from his brow. "Just a little more. You're stronger than you know."
Through her efforts, and his own quiet endurance, Ren's body began to return to him — not as it once was, but stronger, steadier. His legs regained feeling. His arms could lift again. The day he stood on his own feet — trembling, sweating, and pale — the whole manor paused to watch.
And in the quiet after, Liora smiled — not the smile of a healer doing her duty, but of someone who truly cared.
"You made it," she said.
Ren didn't speak. He only looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers slowly, and felt something stir in his chest.
A fragile spark.
Something like hope.
Later that evening, the entire manor was alive with celebration. Joy rippled through its grand halls like wildfire — laughter echoing, music playing, and warm lights dancing off the polished walls.
The occasion? Ren's recovery.
Servants, guards, and even the heroes themselves joined in. Long tables overflowed with food — roasted meats, glazed fruits, spiced pies — while mugs of beer clanked together in cheers. Some danced, others sang, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the air was filled with something Ren hadn't heard since Fin…
Happiness.
Near the center of the chaos, Thalira, crimson-haired and flushed from drink, was locked in a fierce drinking contest with one of the mansion's guards. A small mountain of empty mugs lay around her. She slammed another down and roared, "Another one! Is that all you've got, soldier?!"
In the warmth and noise, Ren found himself pulled toward one of the tables. His eyes landed on a half-full mug of golden beer. On a strange whim, he reached for it.
Just as his fingers wrapped around the handle—
Smack!
A hand struck his wrist.
"Ow—!"
He looked up to see Liora, her cheeks red from drink and her eyes half-lidded with mischief. She hiccuped loudly and wagged a finger at him.
"Kids… shouldn't drink beer," she mumbled with mock sternness. Then, slurring slightly, she slammed a mug of milk in front of him. "Drink this, Ren! Strong bones. Strong heart."
Before he could respond, she snatched the mug he'd taken and downed it herself in one long gulp.
Ren blinked. "…Okay."
As he obediently sipped the milk, Eldric appeared behind him and casually draped an arm over Ren's shoulders. The man smelled faintly of smoke and steel, but his voice was warm.
"You've healed enough," he said, smirking. "Starting tomorrow, we begin your sword training. Be ready at sunrise."
Ren looked up at him and nodded, a spark of excitement in his chest.
"I will. I'll be ready."
The party roared on — music swelling, laughter ringing, and mugs rising. For the first time since he came to this strange world, Ren felt… home