Episode2

Shen Yu.

That was the name that pulled him out of his thoughts.

At first, it didn’t register.

He was still standing there, fingers resting on the carved wooden door, heart unsettled, mind tangled between two lives that didn’t belong together. The room still smelled faintly of herbs and warm sunlight, too gentle for someone who had died under a truck’s wheels.

“Shen Yu?”

The voice came again—soft, anxious, trembling with concern.

…Shen Yu?

It took him a second to realize.

She’s calling me.

Before he could even respond, the door opened from the outside.

A woman stepped in.

She was dressed in luxurious robes, layers of fine fabric embroidered with subtle gold patterns. Her hair was neatly pinned up, ornaments glinting faintly in the light. She looked elegant, dignified—and the moment her eyes landed on him, they filled with unmistakable worry.

“Yu’er!”

She crossed the room in quick steps and wrapped her arms around him before he could react.

“Are you okay?” she asked urgently, her hands cupping his face, fingers brushing the bandage around his forehead. “Look at your head… how could this happen? Does it still hurt? Are you dizzy?”

Her voice shook.

Shen Yu froze.

Her warmth seeped through him slowly, like something long-forgotten awakening in his chest. She held him carefully, as if afraid he might break, her touch gentle and protective.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

In his first life, no one had ever held him like this.

His biological mother had died early. His stepmother… she had never beaten him, but she had never loved him either. To her, he was extra work—someone who should earn his place by doing chores, staying quiet, never asking for affection. Warm meals came with conditions. Care came with distance.

Love had never been free.

But this woman—

She didn’t ask him anything in return.

She just cared.

“I…” His throat tightened. His voice came out unsteady. “I’m fine.”

She sighed in relief and pulled him into another hug, stroking his hair. “Thank the heavens. You scared me to death.”

Shen Yu’s hands hovered awkwardly before slowly, hesitantly, returning the embrace.

So this is… a mother’s warmth.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway.

A tall man entered the room, dressed in formal noble attire. His posture was straight, his expression calm—but distant. His eyes briefly swept over Shen Yu, lingering on the bandage for no more than a heartbeat.

“Get ready,” the man said. “You’re going to school.”

Just like that.

The woman turned sharply. “What? Are you serious?” Her brows furrowed in anger. “He’s still recovering! Look at his head—how can you send him so soon?”

“He’s a noble,” the man replied coolly. “He should be prepared for this much. The next inheritance will be his. He can’t afford weakness.”

Inheritance.

The word rang loudly in Shen Yu’s ears.

So this body… is a noble’s heir.

Before he could stop himself, he spoke.

“I’ll go.”

Both of them turned to stare at him.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Yu’er?” She reached out, pressing her hand against his forehead. “Did you hit your head too hard? You never liked school this much.”

Even the man looked faintly surprised.

Shen Yu clenched his fingers at his side.

“I need to take responsibility,” he said quietly but firmly. “Mother. If I’m going to inherit everything one day, I can’t keep avoiding things.”

The room fell silent.

The man studied him for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Good.” There was something like approval in his voice. “You’re finally improving. Stop acting like a spoiled brat.”

Shen Yu didn’t react to the insult.

Instead, he felt something strange settle in his chest.

Pride.

After they left, he stood there for a long moment, absorbing everything.

A family.

Status.

A future.

He turned toward the study table by the window.

Books were stacked neatly—thick volumes bound in leather, their covers etched with unfamiliar symbols. He picked one up, expecting numbers, formulas, maybe history.

Instead, glowing runes shimmered faintly on the page.

Magic.

“…This isn’t math,” he murmured.

Heart pounding, he flipped through the book. The words were strange, yet somehow… understandable. As if the body itself remembered.

On impulse, he read a short incantation aloud.

The air trembled.

The pencil lying on the desk lifted—slowly, shakily—then hovered in midair.

Shen Yu’s breath caught.

“…It worked?”

The pencil floated, spun once, then dropped back onto the desk.

His hands trembled—not with fear, but with excitement.

Magic.

I can really use magic.

He straightened, eyes burning with determination.

“I don’t care how this world works,” he said softly, gripping the book. “I’ll learn everything. I’ll survive. I’ll become strong.”

His reflection in the window looked back at him—no longer invisible.

“Never again,” Shen Yu whispered, “will I let myself disappear.”

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