The Anomaly Beyond The System

Chapter 19: Second meeting(2)

She stared at the glass, unmoving.

The transparent surface reflected her hollow eyes, distant and unfocused, as if she were looking through it rather than at it.

The liquid inside trembled faintly from her unsteady grip.

Lucian waited.

Seconds passed. Then more.

Finally, he sighed softly and lifted the glass to her lips. She finally drank, slow and shaky.

When she finished, she lowered her hands weakly. Lucian gently took the glass from her and set it aside before sitting beside her, close—but not too close.

She handed him the glass without looking at him.

Without thinking, he reached out and ruffled her hair gently.

He didn't mean to, but did it out of habit.

The moment his fingers touched her head, her body stiffened.

She trembled and immediately jerked back.

"What are you doing?" She asked coldly.

Lucian froze.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to." He dipped his head, guilt tightening his chest.

"I just… did it without thinking."

For a moment, Seraphina simply stared at him.

Why did seeing him sad hurt?

Why did she feel that stab of guilt—as if she were the one who had done something wrong?

She moved closer—hesitating, unsure, almost clumsy with the gesture.

"Why are you behaving like a child?" She muttered, then reached out and ruffled his hair—lightly, awkwardly, but with warmth she didn't understand.

Lucian froze, then tears fell uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Seraphina was in her own thoughts.

Inside her mind, memories flickered.

'This feels familiar, like when Aiden–'

She stopped herself immediately.

No.

Impossible.

Her son was dead.

Her baby was gone.

This boy only resembled him.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

She just didn't want any false hopes. It would break her.

And when she saw him crying, all her thoughts collapsed.

"Hey—!" she whispered sharply.

She cupped his face with both hands, startled by the warmth of his skin and the relief mixed with grief in his expression.

Her frail fingers wiped his tears gently.

"Why are you crying like a child?" she asked, but her voice held unmistakable maternal softness.

"J-Just remembered my mother." He whispered.

Her breath hitched.

A tiny, painful breath escaped her lips.

"Your mother…" she said slowly.

Her grip tightened just a little.

"She must be proud to have a son like you."

"I hope so." He murmured, forcing a broken smile.

She didn't answer.

The silence wasn't cold anymore—just heavy, fragile.

Then Lucian suddenly clapped his hands lightly.

"Ah—I brought something for you."

Seraphina blinked, but understood what he was trying to do.

"What?" she asked, suspicious but curious.

"It's not much," He said quickly, fumbling a little.

"Just… a hair tie. You have long hair, but you don't tie it so..."

Lucian took out a dark blue hair tie—simple, soft, nothing special, but clearly chosen with care.

Seraphina stared at it as if it were something foreign.

"A hair tie?" She tilted her head slightly.

"Yeah. I thought… maybe it would be comfortable. Your hair keeps falling on your face. I can take it back if you don't want it—"

"Give it." She cut in before he could finish.

Lucian blinked in surprise.

Seraphina stared at it for a moment.

She lifted her hands and tried to tie her hair. Her frail fingers trembled slightly, struggling to comb through the loose strands.

She frowned.

"Can I?" he asked softly.

She hesitated… then nodded, handing it to him.

Lucian moved behind her and carefully gathered her hair. The strands were rough and dry.

"Your hair… you should wash it properly," he murmured.

"Hmm." It was barely a sound.

He gently tied her hair, adjusting the tie until it sat comfortably in place.

Then he stepped back and admired his work.

"There… looks good," he said, nodding proudly.

Seraphina's cold mask cracked—just a little.

A tiny smile tugged at her lips, faint but undeniably there.

Lucian saw it immediately.

Warmth blossomed in his chest.

He smiled too—soft, relieved, happy.

…

When his visiting time was over, Lucian stood up.

Seraphina didn't stop him.

Didn't speak.

But her eyes followed him.

Hesitant. Conflicted.

She had just seen him yesterday for the first time, and she already felt an attachment.

She watched until he disappeared beyond the door.

***

He reached home an hour later.

After a quick workout to clear his mind, he took a bath.

Lia had already left for her part-time job.

Now he sat in front of the TV, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair still damp.

He flipped through the channels until the news appeared—boring, repetitive stories he'd heard a hundred times.

Not that he was paying attention.

His mind was elsewhere.

"Akasha, I still have two Attribute Points left, right?"

[Yes, do you want to use them now?]

Her tone held caution—she already knew what he intended.

"Yes… put both points into Will."

[Are you sure?]

She rarely sounded worried, but right now she did.

To others, it might not look like much. But for him, raising his Will meant unlocking memories, with every painful detail.

Lucian was already fractured.

Especially when it came to those he loved.

"I can't run from my past forever," he said softly.

"So it's better to accept it."

[Hmm.]

The surge hit immediately.

[Your will has increased by 2.]

Memories poured in—clear, sharp, suffocating.

This time, he didn't need nightmares to look at his memories; his Will was high enough to face them awake.

"No.. no… I didn't.. No please!! MOM!!"

He clutched his head, screaming soundlessly as tears streamed down.

Minutes passed by, but the memories didn't stop.

And he didn't just remember everything—he also felt it.

[—an!]

Every beating.

Every punishment.

Every moment his father blackmailed his mother, using him as leverage.

Every plea.

Every cry.

It was too much for a child to handle.

Too much even now.

[—cian!]

Then came the memory he hated most.

The moment he betr—

[LUCIAN, SNAP OUT OF IT!!!]

"Haahh—!!"

Akasha's shout jolted him back.

"Haaa… haa… ha…"

He panted weakly, gasping for air.

[Take deep breaths. And stop blaming yourself again.]

He couldn't even hear her properly.

He forced himself to breathe slowly until the spinning stopped.

Only then did he realise he had fallen off the chair. His clothes were drenched in sweat. His freshly washed hair was soaked again.

"Did I remember everything?"

He thought for a while, reviewing his memories once more.

"No, I didn't. Not everything."

He still didn't know what happened after his mother was institutionalised—only flashes, mostly of his father's violence.

'Not that I was expecting something better from that piece of shit.'

After a few minutes,

[Calmed down?]

"What do you think?" He said with a weak smile.

[Stop pretending.]

"..."

He sighed heavily.

"Now I am sure I cannot tell my mother that I am her son. I don't want to know what her reaction would be." He said in a depressing tone.