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The first thing Logan noticed was the smell.
Not antiseptic hospitals or asphalt soaked in oil. Not the faint stench of sweat and city grime he had been so used to. Here, the air carried the tang of woodsmoke and dust, layered with something older—like the pages of a forgotten book that had soaked in time.
He pushed himself upright. The blanket slipped down his shoulders, heavy and scratchy against bare skin. His hand trembled when he lifted it, slender fingers catching the weak lantern light. The skin was pale, smooth—delicate.
Logan blinked. The reflection in the cracked basin mirror across the room stared back at him, unfamiliar and unsettling.
A young man with features almost too refined to be real: jawline faint but sharp, cheekbones delicate, lips thin yet soft in shape. His hair—black, with a silken sheen that caught the dim flame—fell untidily across his forehead.
But it was the eyes that unsettled him most.
Pale red, calm and glassy, like a surface of water hiding something fathomless below.
He leaned closer, gripping the basin rim. His breath misted faintly against the glass.
"…Well," he whispered, voice dry, "at least I didn't reincarnate as ugly."
He let out a short laugh. It cracked halfway, sounding almost like disbelief.
His legs slid off the bed. They were thin, weaker than he remembered—fragile. When he tried to stand, his knees buckled, and he had to grab the bedside post to steady himself.
"Great. Hero body of legend, huh?" He glanced upward, as though the voice in his head might hear his sarcasm. "This is what I get? Malnourished twink chic?"
No answer. Nyx Nexus seemed content to watch.
Logan sighed and shuffled toward the window. The glass was clouded, but beyond it, moonlight bled across a ruined garden. Once-manicured hedges drooped in neglect. A stone fountain stood cracked and dry, its basin filled with weeds.
His gaze dropped to the floorboards under his feet. Scratched. Repaired again and again until there was nothing left to polish. The house had bones of grandeur—but time and poverty had gnawed them bare.
Logan rubbed his neck. Fallen noble heir, the system had said. Yeah. He could see it.
The floorboards creaked.
The door slammed open.
A blur of movement collided with him before he could react.
"Big brother!"
Logan staggered backward, arms instinctively catching the small body that launched at him. He blinked down at a mop of messy dark hair and wide eyes the same pale red as his own.
The boy couldn't have been more than six. His little arms wrapped tight around Logan's waist, face pressing into his stomach with the desperation of someone who had missed him beyond words.
Logan's throat tightened unexpectedly.
"Uh…" He patted the boy's head, fingers brushing through soft hair. "You trying to knock me over on my first day awake, Cael?"
The boy giggled into his shirt. "You were asleep forever!"
"Forever, huh?" Logan raised an eyebrow. "That's a long nap. What'd I miss? Did the world end?"
The boy shook his head fiercely, still clinging. "No! But I stacked the firewood, like Sister said. And I didn't cry once."
"Didn't cry once, huh?" Logan smirked faintly. "That's impressive. Stronger than me already."
The boy beamed up at him, proud and bright.
Logan looked at him for a moment longer. Then, without warning, he scooped the child up and set him on the bed, earning a squeal of laughter.
"You're light," Logan said, ruffling his hair. "Like a sack of feathers. Don't tell me you've been eating the same gourmet diet I have—air and disappointment."
The boy pouted, puffing out his cheeks. "Sister says I'm growing just fine!"
Logan chuckled, sinking onto the edge of the bed beside him. "Oh, she does, does she? Guess I'll have to trust her judgment, seeing as she's terrifying."
> [Observation: The child is underweight. Nutritional intake insufficient.]
The calm voice threaded into his mind without warning. Logan stiffened slightly, though his expression didn't change.
"Noted," he thought back dryly. "Thanks for the medical update."
The boy tugged at his sleeve. "Big brother? You look funny."
"Funny?" Logan arched a brow. "Like clown funny or handsome funny?"
"Both!" the boy announced, grinning wide.
Logan laughed, real and warm this time. He couldn't help it. Something in the kid's smile cut through the lingering fog of confusion and fear.
He leaned back on his hands, staring at the cracked ceiling beams. So this is it, huh? New world. New body. And apparently… a little brother.
The thought settled in his chest, heavy but not unpleasant.
The door creaked again.
This time, the figure that entered wasn't a blur.
A girl, tall for her age—fourteen, maybe fifteen. Her hair, the same black silk as his, was tied neatly back. Her pale red eyes were cool, expression schooled into icy calm. She carried a basket of laundry against her hip, movements efficient, practiced.
Her gaze flicked from Logan to the boy on the bed.
"You're awake." Her voice was flat, controlled. "Finally. If you're done lying around, the firewood won't stack itself."
Logan blinked at her. Then grinned, teeth flashing.
"Well," he said slowly, drawl dripping with amusement, "hello to you too, little sister."
Her tone didn't shift, not even when Logan smiled at her. Her pale eyes regarded him with the distance of a seasoned noblewoman, not a teenager.
"Get off the bed," she said to the boy, voice clipped. "You'll wrinkle the sheets."
The boy scrambled down, ducking his head. "Sorry, Sister."
Logan watched the exchange, one eyebrow climbing. "Wrinkle the sheets? Pretty sure they've been wrinkled since the empire fell, sweetheart."
Her gaze snapped to him. "Don't call me that."
"Sweetheart?" Logan tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What, you prefer darling? Princess? My little frost queen?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Logan stretched his legs out, bracing himself on his elbows against the bed. "You know, most siblings would say something like 'Welcome Back, big brother.' Maybe even 'we missed you.' But you? Straight to chores. not fair, 'Selena' my sister."
"Somebody has to act responsibly," she replied, flat.
"Ouch." He clutched his chest theatrically. "A dagger right through the heart. And I just woke up from death too—talk about timing."
For a heartbeat, her lips twitched. Almost. But she smoothed it away in the next second.
Logan noticed. And filed it away with a spark of amusement.
"Don't tease Sister," the little boy piped up, standing like a tiny soldier between them. His cheeks puffed with determination. "She's just… she's worried."
The girl's eyes narrowed at him. "I am not."
Logan leaned forward, grin spreading. "Ohhh. So the little knight has betrayed the queen. Treason in the family already."
The boy giggled despite himself. "Big brother…"
The girl turned away, setting the laundry basket down with sharp precision. "Don't encourage him. He's insufferable enough."
Logan pushed himself up and sauntered closer, deliberately casual despite the weakness still in his legs. He stopped just short of her, leaning one shoulder against the wall.
"You know," he said softly, a teasing lilt in his voice, "if you keep acting like you don't care, people might actually believe you."
Her jaw tightened.
"And that'd be a shame," Logan continued, "since you nearly gave yourself away just now. That little crack."
She turned to glare at him, pale eyes sharp as glass.
He only smiled wider.
> [Observation: Emotional suppression detected. Behavioral rigidity indicates attachment conflict.]
The calm voice threaded through his skull. Logan didn't flinch, though he felt his smirk tug tighter. Yeah, no kidding. Don't ruin the game, System.
"Crack?" she repeated coolly. "You're imagining things."
"Sure," Logan said easily. "Imagining that when I joked about dying, you almost smiled. That wasn't ice. That was…" He tapped his chin. "What's the word? Concern? Affection? Secretly being glad I didn't stay dead?"
The boy gasped. "You died?"
Logan blinked, then cursed inwardly. Smooth, jackass.
"Not exactly," he said quickly, crouching to ruffle the boy's hair. "More like… took a nap that was way too long. You know how sometimes people fall asleep after dinner and wake up at breakfast?"
The boy frowned, trying to process. "…But Sister said—"
"Sister says a lot of things," Logan interrupted smoothly, shooting the girl a sly look. "Mostly bossy ones."
Her nostrils flared, but she didn't retort.
"Anyway," Logan stood again, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve, "point is—I'm alive, I'm vertical, and I'm apparently annoying as hell. So." He spread his arms wide. "Seems like business as usual."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Then the girl exhaled sharply, setting her jaw. "If you're well enough to talk this much, you're well enough to chop wood."
Logan grinned. "Ah, there's the affection. Nothing says 'welcome back, brother' like assigning manual labor."
The boy laughed again, eyes bright, while the girl turned briskly back to her laundry.
Logan's smile lingered as he watched them—fragile, cold, messy little family that they were. Something in his chest tightened, uncomfortable but grounding.
He muttered under his breath, mostly to himself, "Guess this isn't the worst restart."
> [Correction: Statistically, probability of failure remains high.]
The calm voice echoed. Logan rolled his eyes skyward.
"Thanks for the pep talk," he muttered, earning a confused look from his sister.
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