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My name was Jason Cole, a twenty-five-year-old therapist, and I died because I answered "approved" to the wrong person.
Now you must be wondering how that happened.
Well, the story goes like this.
It was a normal summer day—nothing special, nothing dramatic.
I was dressed in black pants, purple shirt, paired with white sneakers and a purple cap.
Yeah, I know. Totally bullshit combination.
Still, I liked it.
After scamming—ahem—helping those mindless bas—patients, I decided to take a break.
"Finally, Blood Maniac is releasing today."
I was genuinely excited. It was the final movie of the franchise, the Great War arc—the peak of the entire series.
Lost in my thoughts, I entered the ticket counter. The crowd was surprisingly small.
That's when I noticed him.
A guy probably around thirty, slightly fat, wearing glasses. A T-shirt with a dancing anime girl printed on it and Goku's training pants.
Honestly, my outfit was weird—but this guy was on another level of embarrassment.
A small smile crept onto my face.
Then he noticed me.
He walked closer, leaned in, and whispered,
"The supplies are set. Should I give them the order to detonate?"
I studied his face.
No tension. No seriousness.
He looked like he was joking.
As a therapist, I knew exactly how to deal with people like him.
"Approved," I said casually.
I took my ticket and walked into the hall where my movie was about to start.
Man, the hype for this movie is no joke.
Almost every seat was occupied. I found mine right in the middle—the perfect spot.
Then—
BOOM.
A deafening explosion shook the hall.
I was thrown from my seat, my body crashing toward the front as smoke swallowed everything.
What just happened?
Did I seriously get caught in an explosion?
People were screaming. Running. Panicking.
And then I remembered.
That otaku bastard.
What a great actor he was.
The opening scene of the movie flickered faintly in front of my eyes as I felt my soul leaving my body.
Shit… can't even enjoy my favorite film.
---
After that, there was only darkness.
Then slowly—
Very slowly—
The darkness began to fade.
Light replaced it.
I jolted awake.
The first thing I saw was a child's face.
A beautiful girl, around eleven years old, her eyes filled with tears and panic.
She suddenly hugged me tightly and screamed,
"Eeeedwaaard!"
The hug was so strong that my vision blurred again.
And I passed out.
---
Juliette's POV
Juliette was eleven years old when she fully manifested magic for the first time reaching peak tier in novice.
She had heard the tutors say it again and again—manifestation wasn't just about talent. It was about control.
Most mages could only shape mana vaguely. Only those with true potential could push it further—until the magic took physical form.
Juliette had practiced for months.
And now, it finally responded.
She wanted Edward to see it.
Her younger brother stood near the edge of the training room, watching her with wide, excited eyes.
"Watch closely," Juliette said, trying to sound calm.
Eight thick threads of blue mana emerged from her palm. They twisted and intertwined, slowly forming a structure in the air—branches spreading like a tree.
A tree made of mana.
But this wasn't the end.
Juliette took a deep breath and focused harder.
The mana trembled.
Then the light condensed.
The tree lines spreaded separating from each other covering the entire room.
She tried converting it to water mana but failed.
Still.
Juliette's eyes shone.
She had reached the final stage of manifestation.
Edward laughed and clapped, running in circles beneath the glowing structure.
Juliette smiled.
I did it.
She tried to stabilize the magic—just a little longer, just enough to show him properly—
Then something slipped.
One thread shook violently.
Juliette felt her control break.
"Wait—!"
The manifested mana collapsed inward and lashed out.
The impact struck Edward directly.
The explosion echoed through the training room.
Edward's small body was thrown backward, crashing against the floor nearly four meters away.
For a moment, Juliette couldn't breathe.
"Edward!"
She screamed and ran toward him, dropping to her knees beside his unmoving body.
He wasn't responding.
Her hands shook as tears poured freely.
A maid rushed into the room.
"What happened—"
The woman froze, her face draining of color.
More servants rushed in, surrounding Juliette as she clutched Edward tightly.
"I—I lost control," Juliette cried. "I didn't mean to… I was careful…"
The maid snapped out of her shock and ran to summon the duchy's personal doctor.
When the doctor arrived, he examined Edward immediately. Sweat soon formed on his forehead as minutes passed in heavy silence.
Finally, the doctor straightened and forced a calm smile.
"He will be alright."
Juliette's legs nearly gave out.
"Th-thank you," she whispered.
Edward was carried to his room and placed gently on the bed.
Later, he briefly woke—
Only to fall unconscious again moments later.
Juliette panicked, but the doctor reassured her that his condition was stable.
Still, the fear wouldn't leave her.
When the Duchess returned from her social gathering, Juliette was scolded harshly.
She didn't argue.
That night, Juliette lay in her bed, a middle-aged maid sitting beside her.
The moment she was alone, the tears returned.
She clutched the maid tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I hurt him," she cried. "I hurt Edward…"
The maid held her in silence.
Juliette's breathing grew uneven, her body trembling until exhaustion finally took over.
Still holding onto the maid, Juliette lost consciousness—
her tears soaking into the fabric as the room fell silent.
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