Michael’s eyes struggled to open. His body felt heavy, like something was pressing him down from the inside. He tossed and turned in the large bed, sheets tangling around his legs. A faint ringing filled his ears, then with a sudden jolt, he shot upright. “I’m late for graduation!” He croaked, his throat tight and dry. The words echoed in the quiet room. He blinked rapidly and looked around, the ceiling was too high, the walls were too elegant and the furniture was far too expensive for a student dorm. “This is my room…” He muttered slowly, “At the estate? Why am I here?” The door opened softly. Celia stepped inside with careful steps, like she was afraid to disturb him. The moment she saw him sitting up, her entire body froze. “M-Michael?” He looked at her, confusion spreading across his face. “You’re… Celia?” His eyes darkened, suspicion settling in almost immediately, “Why are you here at my family estate?” “Huh…?” She took a small step back. “Michael?” The way he looked at

The next few days at the estate felt strange and slow. Michael moved through the halls like a visitor in his own home, stopping often to ask questions about things that should have been familiar to him. He would simply turn to whoever was closest and ask, “What’s this?” or “When did that happen?” He asked about people, about battles, about arguments he had supposedly won and decisions he had supposedly made. One afternoon, he ran into Mikel Braken near the east wing and asked Barry how come he was now working at the estate. Barry calmly explained everything from the tunnels to Mikel’s little display of bravado to Michael putting him in his place, “He's been well-behaved since…” Michael nodded, “Good to know.” After several medical tests at the estate, long conversations filled with patience, and even hours spent alone in his study, flipping through journals and reports, it became clear that nothing around him was triggering a proper recovery. He tried reading battle summaries, l

“Are you okay, miss?” Michael asked, genuine worry in his voice as he bent down and picked up the handkerchief she had dropped. He noticed the faint red stain on it and frowned, “Here… You’re bleeding.” Mira gasped and quickly snatched the cloth from his hand. She turned her back to him at once, pressing the fabric to her nose, “Don’t let this fool you.” She said sharply, her pride rising before anything else. “I can still take you on.” Michael tilted his head slightly, a faint smile forming without effort. “Yeah, I’m sure you can.” He replied lightly, not taking her words seriously, “What’s your name?” She turned back slowly, disbelief written all over her face. “The first time you actually try to be funny, the joke isn’t landing right. Is your sense of humor that dry, broth-?” “Sorry, I can’t chat.” Michael interrupted gently, already stepping away. “I’m looking for someone. I wish you a quick recovery though… See you around.” He turned the corner and disappeared from her sig

The next morning felt different the moment Michael opened his eyes. Celia was already awake and pacing the room like she had too much coffee. She kept checking her phone, adjusting the curtains, fixing the bed sheets even though they were perfectly straight. Michael sat up slowly, studying her without saying anything at first. He had lost his memories, not his instincts. Something was definitely off. She caught him staring and flashed him a bright smile, “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” “Like someone who ran a marathon in his head.” He replied calmly. “You seem… Energetic.” She laughed a little too fast, “It’s a nice day. That’s all.” He didn’t push it immediately, but the feeling stayed in his chest. It felt tight and uncomfortable, like a knot that refused to loosen. Whatever she and Thomas talked about last night had not left her mind… And now it wasn’t leaving his either. Later that morning, they went up to the rooftop. The space was polished and quiet, with sleek bench

The next morning in Aurora City Memorial Hospital was quiet, almost peaceful. The surgery lasted several hours, and for once, there were no explosions, no glowing eyes, no violent clashes between twins. Just bright operating lights and the steady focus of trained hands doing careful work. Thomas led the procedure still, but with calm precision. He no longer had any intent to tweak anything. Mira’s condition had been worse than anyone expected, the scans showed fragile vessels and abnormal pressure around damaged regions of her brain. For someone like her to even stand and fight in that state was nothing short of terrifying. When it was finally over, Thomas removed his gloves and let out a controlled breath. “She’ll live.” He said simply. “Recovery won’t be instant, but the pressure has been relieved. The bleeding should stop.” Jace, who had been waiting outside the entire time, closed his eyes in relief. He did not smile, he rarely did since Mira told him about the pain, but the