Despite the voice ringing in his head, Vincent—drowning deep in his own emotions—ignored it. He focused entirely on his uncle and aunt as they spoke with the doctor right in front of him. According to the doctor, who had just finished the examination, Vincent's body had miraculously healed. There was no sign that he had just survived a horrific accident that, in his past life, had cost him his right arm. Vincent heard the conversation, but he didn't really listen; his eyes remained fixed on his aunt and uncle, his expression a cold, flat mask.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached the room. Vincent turned toward the door, his eyes widening. A handsome young man, tall and well-built, stood there. He looked exactly Vincent's age. Behind him was a couple whose faces were a mix of rage and sorrow; the wife was in tears. Vincent recognized all three of them instantly. The boy at the door was the one who had dragged Sarah to the middle of the bridge and coaxed her out—the same person who had later thrown Vincent under the bus to save himself. He was a bully with a pristine reputation, always shielded by the principal.
His name was Chad, the principal's youngest son. Behind him were two people whose faces made Vincent sick: his future father and mother-in-law. They were old-money elites who measured a person's worth solely by their bank account. These were Sarah's parents, Richard and Sophia Roschild.
"Clang."
Once again, Vincent's bionic hand squeezed the bed railing, bending the metal even further than before. The sound drew everyone's attention. Chad looked like he was seeing a ghost. The future in-laws, meanwhile, looked more confused than angry, despite their grief.
"Wh... what is this? You were supposed to be in a coma, right?" Chad stammered.
"Yeah, I was. And you came here intending to blame me so you could look like a saint and keep your hands clean, right?" Vincent shot back, his voice eerily calm.
Finding his inner thoughts read so easily, Chad went dead silent. His jaw tightened, and he glared at Vincent as if Vincent were the one who had kicked his puppy. Hearing this exchange, Uncle Billy and Aunt Heather immediately turned toward Vincent, ignoring the doctor. Suddenly, Billy spoke up.
"What do you mean by that, Vincent?" Billy asked. His voice was calm and gentle, but there was something else hidden in his face—a flicker of anxiety, perhaps even fear, as Vincent opened fire on Chad in front of the Roschilds.
Seeing the strange reaction on his uncle's face, combined with the way Chad glanced at Billy—pale-faced, like they shared a secret—it all clicked. Vincent remembered something he had always brushed off before, something he never thought was connected. Billy had been college friends with the principal's wife. That was the real reason Vincent had been admitted to that elite private school with a massive discount: Billy's "friendship" with the woman.
Since Vincent was now a man from the future trapped in his past self, he could see things that were previously invisible—obvious details he had once overlooked, like hair color, eye shape, and facial structure. Standing side by side, there was no question: Chad was clearly Billy's son. Whether Heather knew it was another story. Vincent covered his mouth to hide a smirk, but the resemblance was so blatant he couldn't help it. He burst into laughter—not a happy laugh, but a bitter, jagged one. The mystery of why everyone blamed him, why he was the one who ended up a cripple despite saving Sarah, was finally solved.
"Damn. So that's how it is. Unbelievable," Vincent muttered, laughing out loud.
Everyone watched him, baffled and uneasy. Billy stepped closer, reaching out to touch him, but "clap," Vincent swatted his hand away. He glared at his uncle before shifting his gaze to Sarah's parents.
"Mr and Ms Roschild, I have a question. If I really was the one who hurt Sarah—according to this guy and my uncle—and if my badly injured arm could actually be saved, would you have pressured my uncle to have it amputated?" Vincent asked firmly.
"What are you talking about? I'd never think of such a thing. I only want to know who dragged Sarah out there, because I know my daughter; she's too scared to start something like that unless someone eggs her on," Richard, Sarah's father, replied.
"I see. Forgive me for asking, but this man intended to amputate my arm because he didn't want to spend my insurance money or my parents' inheritance on my treatment. He claimed it was because you two were threatening him to do it, and that you wouldn't sue him if he did," Vincent said, pointing directly at his uncle's face.
Richard and Sophia, who clearly had no idea what he was talking about, turned to look at Billy. Billy's face turned a mottled purple with rage as his carefully kept secret was ripped open.
"Vincent! What is wrong with you!" the uncle roared.
"Just admit it. You wanted to give my inheritance to him in the future, didn't you?" Vincent asked, pointing at Chad.
At that, Billy flinched in shock. Chad grew visibly tense, his eyes darting toward Billy.
"Hey Chad, you know he's your old man, right?" Vincent launched his second strike, pointing at Billy again.
"Vincent, you're being disrespectful! You hurt someone's child and now you're talking nonsense!" Billy screamed, his face bright red.
"Mr and Ms Roschild, he's the one who pulled Sarah to the middle of the bridge. I'm willing to testify in court if you want to sue him," Vincent said to Richard and Sophia, pointing his finger at Chad.
"Vincent!" Billy barked.
"Why so sensitive, Uncle? If he's not your son, you shouldn't care, right? He's the principal's kid, so it's fine if they sue him," Vincent said mockingly.
"Slap!"
Suddenly, Billy swung a stinging blow across Vincent's face. Vincent's head snapped to the side. Chad looked satisfied, but the rest of the room was stunned. Heather, in particular, looked at her husband's unhinged reaction with a growing realization. She stepped forward slowly, looking at Chad and then at her husband. It was written all over her face—she was seeing a stranger. Finally, she spoke.
"Billy, why are you so angry? Why did you slap Vincent? What he said shouldn't have anything to do with you, right? Are you hiding something from me?" Heather asked. Her voice was quiet, but it was shaking.
Billy turned around. Seeing Heather's cold, questioning gaze, his face went deathly pale and his lips trembled. He turned back to see Vincent, who was wearing a predatory smirk while making a "finger gun" gesture at him.
"Bullseye. You've been caught," Vincent said with a chilling smile.