Ron's eyes fluttered open to a stark white ceiling. A hospital. Someone must have brought him here.
He pushed himself to sit up, and a sharp pain lanced through his skull. He grunted, grabbing his head as his eyes snapped shut. "Ouch..."
He rubbed his temples, forcing his eyes open and blinking until the clinical white room swam into focus. The faint, sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air. He instinctively moved a hand to where the pain was centered, expecting the sticky warmth of blood. There was nothing. No wound, no gash, just smooth skin and the dull, throbbing ache deep inside his brain.
How is this possible?
Then, the memories flooded in, a chaotic merger of two lives. "Must be some Awakened doctor," he murmured, a wry smile touching his lips. "That's right. I'm in another world now."
He leaned back against the stiff pillows, closing his eyes. He wasn't the original Ron, not anymore. But now, he was. The memories of a life on Earth—mundane, successful, but ultimately boring—were now overlaid with the life of this boy.
"Pathetic," he spat, the word laced with a cold disdain as he sifted through Ron's experiences. A life defined by uselessness, disappointment, and misery. He was a burden, a failure, an Awakened with an ability so weak it was a joke.
"Oh well," he mused, a strange sense of clarity washing over him. "It gives me a new perspective. Now that I'm seeing my situation from the outside..." He had to conclude that the original Ron had, indeed, been a loser.
"And this can't go on."
With a soft click, the door opened, and a nurse in a crisp white uniform walked in. She looked to be in her late twenties, her expression professional and detached.
"You seem to have recovered," she stated, placing a cool hand on his forehead to check his temperature.
Ron moved his head away. "Who brought me here?"
"A girl. She's waiting outside. Short blonde hair. Do you know her?" she asked, turning away to make a note on her clipboard.
"I do." It had to be his cousin, Gia. A year younger than him. They weren't close, but they were stuck together, two kids trying to ease the immense burden on their aunt.
"I'm hoping there's no fee to be paid," Ron said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and adjusting his clothes. "My aunt can't afford it." The fact that it was an air-conditioned hospital suggested it was a facility for the Awakened, where basic healthcare was often subsidized or free. A simple head wound shouldn't be an issue.
"Just a signature," the nurse said, handing him the clipboard. "Your guardian's, if you're not eighteen yet."
Ron scanned the form, signed where required, and handed it back without another word before leaving the room. "Thanks for the service," he said, pulling the door closed behind him.
A few steps down the hallway, he found her. Gia was slumped in a plastic chair, still in her waitress uniform, weeping softly into her hands. When she saw him emerge, completely fine, her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed into slits of pure fury.
"You..." she hissed, jumping to her feet. "Because of you... why can't you mind yourself for once? Always troubling me and my mother! I thought you were dead. There was so much blood..."
Ron cut her off, raising a single finger to her lips—an action the original Ron would have never dared.
Gia recoiled as if burned. "Wha—How dare you!" She slapped his hand away and took a stumbling step back. "Don't you fucking touch me, you cripple! I'm not your friend. Don't act like we're close. You are just a leech, a burden on my mother!"
Ron simply rolled his eyes and backed off. "Don't make a scene. It's a hospital." He turned and started walking toward the exit, his stride calm and measured.
Gia hurried to follow him, her voice a sharp, angry whisper. "Don't you try to act all grown up now! It's you who scared me to death, dropping dead in your room when I just got back from my shift. I couldn't rest, couldn't even change. It would be different if this was the first time, but you keep doing this, again and again!"
She was right. The original Ron frequently injured himself while trying—and failing—to practice his ability. It was a monthly ritual of failure and pain. If it weren't for the mandatory Awakened Health Insurance, he'd have drowned his aunt in medical debt long ago. Even as a useless Awakened, he received the same basic benefits as the powerful. The Awakened Collective, the AC, recognized the potential in everyone who underwent the Awakening; the act itself was a feat.
By the time they reached their small, worn-down home, it was nearly 9 PM. The tense silence on the walk back had been thick enough to cut with a knife. His aunt wasn't back yet; her overtime shifts usually kept her out until midnight.
Without another word, Gia disappeared into her room, slamming the door. Ron made his way to his own room. The floor was stained with a dark, sprawling patch of dried blood. His mess to clean, it seemed.
He carefully stepped around it and sat on the edge of his bed. The movement sent another dull throb through his head, but he ignored it. There was something more important to address. Closing his eyes, he focused, reaching for the flicker of power the new memories told him he possessed.
His target was a small rubber eraser that had fallen near his foot. He tried to use his telekinesis, concentrating his will. It worked, in a manner of speaking. He could feel the connection, a faint, thrumming tether between his mind and the object, but the eraser felt as heavy as his patheticness. This was the problem: his power was real, but pitifully weak.
He stood and walked to his desk, grabbed a sheet of paper, and tore off a thin, light strip. He tried again.
This time, the paper strip trembled and lifted a fraction of an inch before fluttering weakly back to the ground.
"Hmm. Lacking both power and control," he murmured. The old Ron had spent four years slamming his head against this bottleneck with no results. "But now... now I have an outside perspective. Maybe I can find the breakthrough he couldn't."
From his new memories, he knew the final eligibility exam for the ACA was in three months. A tight schedule, but perhaps not an impossible one.
He got to work immediately. First, he found a mop and bucket downstairs and meticulously scrubbed the blood from his floorboards, then washed the mop until no trace remained. His aunt didn't need to know. Gia wouldn't tell her. The knowledge would only add another line of worry to her already tired face.
When he thought of his aunt now, a complex mix of emotions surfaced. One half, the remnant of the old Ron, felt a familiar, familial love. But the other, dominant half saw her for what she was: a hardworking, resilient woman sacrificing everything for two kids, one of whom wasn't even her own. Respect and a profound sense of gratitude bloomed in his chest, fueling an overwhelming desire.
A desire to protect her. To solve her problems. For that, he needed money—so much money she would never have to work another day in her life.
And for that kind of money, a dead-end job for a Non-Awakened wouldn't cut it. He needed to work for the AC, to earn a salary befitting an Awakened. That meant the Awakened Collective Academy was his only real opportunity, and its eligibility test was his last resort.
"Which means I have to get stronger," he murmured to the empty room, his mind already formulating a plan. "Just got here and I already have a big goal and an even bigger hurdle."
A smile touched his lips. "Oh well. It's much better than the boredom of my life on Earth, at least."