Ryan Walker had always believed that ceilings revealed more about a person's life than mirrors ever could, mostly because mirrors were honest in a loud way, while ceilings waited patiently for you to notice what had gone wrong.
The ceiling above him now was not patient.
It was bright, perfectly white, and so clean it felt almost offended by his presence, which immediately told him two things he did not want to accept at the same time. The first was that he was definitely not in his apartment, and the second was that wherever he was, someone had paid good money to keep it looking this sterile.
He blinked slowly, the light pressing against his eyes with a confidence that felt unnecessary, and let his thoughts drift without trying to organize them too quickly. That habit, the one where he delayed thinking until it became unavoidable, had followed him faithfully through most of his adult life.
A soft beeping sound pulsed nearby, steady and calm, which somehow made the situation worse instead of better.
Hospitals always sounded like that, as if they were politely reminding you that time was still moving, whether you were ready for it or not.
Ryan tried to swallow, mostly out of reflex, and immediately regretted the decision. His throat felt dry, irritated, like it had been ignored for far too long, and his chest tightened just enough to make breathing feel like something that required cooperation rather than instinct.
"Well," he thought, staring upward, "this is already starting badly."
That was when he noticed the warmth around his hand.
It took him a moment to register it properly, because warmth did not belong in places like this, and his brain was still busy negotiating with reality. The grip was firm but careful, as if whoever was holding his hand had decided that letting go was not an option but squeezing too hard would be unforgivable.
"Hey," a woman's voice said softly. "Try to stay awake, okay?"
There was no panic in her tone, no dramatic urgency, but there was a faint unevenness there, like she was balancing something fragile and did not trust herself to move too quickly. Ryan turned his head slowly, every movement feeling slightly delayed, as though his body was processing instructions from an outdated manual.
She came into focus gradually.
She was beautiful in a quiet way, not the kind that demanded attention but the kind that lingered once you noticed it. Her hair was a little messy, her eyes red, and she looked like someone who had been sitting in the same chair for far too long because leaving had felt like a worse option.
The strange part was not that she was holding his hand.
The strange part was that he had absolutely no idea who she was.
Ryan searched his memory, rifling through years of half-forgotten faces and moments that never quite stuck, hoping to find a name or a shared scene that would explain why this stranger looked at him like he mattered. Nothing surfaced, and the silence stretched just long enough to feel uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," Ryan said, his voice rough and uneven, like it had not been used properly in a while. "This is probably going to sound bad, but… do I know you?"
The air changed, not sharply or dramatically, but in a subtle way that made the quiet suddenly noticeable. The woman did not pull her hand away, and she did not react with anger or shock. Instead, she went still, her fingers tightening just slightly, as if she were holding something together by habit alone.
"I'm here," she said after a moment, her voice softer now. "That's what matters."
Ryan felt a strange discomfort settle in his chest, like he had missed an important chapter of his own life and only just realized it. He opened his mouth to say something better, something reassuring, but his body chose that moment to end the conversation entirely.
The edges of his vision blurred, the steady beeping stretched into a single irritated sound, and his chest tightened again.
As everything faded, one unhelpful thought slipped through his mind, clear and sharp.
"I really should have paid more attention."
When Ryan opened his eyes again, the ceiling was still wrong, but this time it was wrong in a way he understood immediately.
It was cracked.
A thin line ran across it like someone had dragged a sharp object through tired paint, and near the corner was a dark stain that looked vaguely like a badly drawn map, or possibly a potato if one was feeling generous. He stared at it for several seconds, letting the image settle while his thoughts caught up at their own pace.
"…That's new," he murmured.
He shifted slightly, expecting pain, dizziness, or at least some resistance, but his body moved easily, without complaint, and that alone made him pause. His chest felt clear, his head light, and his limbs responded the way they used to, back when effort did not come with consequences.
Ryan pushed himself upright and looked around the room.
It was small, cramped, and painfully familiar.
Two narrow beds stood against opposite walls, one of them unmade in a way that suggested laziness rather than chaos. A desk between them bore the scars of years of careless use, and a ceiling fan rattled softly overhead, sounding like it had been complaining about its existence long before Ryan arrived.
A college hostel room.
His heartbeat picked up, not in panic, but in disbelief that felt almost curious.
"No," he said quietly, rubbing his face. "That's not funny."
He stood and walked toward the mirror near the door, half expecting his reflection to argue with him.
It did not.
Instead, it stared back silently, younger and clearer than he remembered. His face lacked the tired lines he had grown used to ignoring, and his eyes did not carry the weight of years spent worrying about things that never quite worked out.
"Nineteen," Ryan whispered.
He recognized that face because he had lived in it once.
A short laugh escaped him, uneven and disbelieving, echoing softly in the room.
"So I die," he said aloud, "and instead of rest, I get exams and roommates."
Before his thoughts could wander too far, the door opened without warning.
"There you are," a familiar voice said cheerfully. "I was starting to think you'd sleep through orientation."
Ryan turned and found himself looking at Ben Parker.
Ben looked exactly the same as Ryan remembered, which felt oddly comforting. His hair was messy in a way that suggested effort had never been part of the plan, and his posture carried the relaxed confidence of someone who assumed things would work out eventually.
Ryan stared a second too long.
"…You're real," he said.
Ben blinked. "That's a weird greeting."
Ryan crossed the room and grabbed Ben's shoulders, giving him a brief shake.
"You're alive," Ryan said.
Ben frowned. "I was last time I checked. Should I be worried?"
Ryan laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in years, and let go.
"Sorry," he said. "Just glad to see you."
Ben studied him. "You're acting strange."
"Probably," Ryan replied. "What year is it?"
Ben hesitated. "First year. First semester. Please tell me you're joking."
"I'm not."
"…Okay," Ben said slowly. "We'll unpack that later."
Rivenfall National University looked exactly the same as Ryan remembered, which somehow made everything feel more unreal instead of less.
Students filled the pathways, laughing too loudly, complaining about schedules, and talking about futures they had not yet learned to doubt. Ryan walked a little slower than Ben, letting his gaze wander, noticing things he had rushed past the first time.
That was when he saw her.
She sat alone on a bench near the main building, her posture careful, her presence quiet enough to disappear into the background. Her clothes were simple, her shoes worn, and long bangs partially hid her face as she read.
Ryan stopped.
"That's her," he thought, without knowing how he knew.
Something shifted in his mind.
A clear, structured presence unfolded quietly, like information he had always possessed but never organized.
[FATED LOVER SYSTEM – STATUS]Name: Ryan WalkerAge: 19Fated Partner: Elena Hart
The panel shifted.
Attributes:Strength: 9 / 20Constitution: 10 / 20Agility: 10 / 20Intelligence: 13 / 20Appearance: 72 / 100
It lingered for only a moment before fading.
Ryan exhaled slowly. "Of course."
Ben glanced at him. "Who are you talking to?"
"Long story," Ryan said.
He walked forward.
"Hi," Ryan said, stopping in front of her. "Do you know where Classroom B is?"
She looked up, startled, then pointed. "Second floor. Left hallway."
"That explains a lot," he said, smiling. "I was completely wrong."
A small smile appeared on her face.
[Daily Task]Speak with Elena Hart today.
Ryan nodded to himself.
"Thanks," he said. "I'm Ryan."
She hesitated. "Elena."
As he walked away, Ryan didn't rush.
This time, he paid attention.
This time, he intended to do things properly.