Chương 7: Chapter 7: It cost me everything
Glancing at his wristwatch, Sam smacked his lips and muttered, "Time sure flies." He turned to look out the window, his brow furrowing slightly. "They'll be here soon," he added quietly. Rising from his seat, he headed into the kitchen, a hint of anticipation in his step.
....
"Mom! We've been invited to dinner!" a voice echoed through the house.
Raising her eyebrows, a middle-aged woman asked, "Who would even send you an invitation?"
"Mom, do you still think your son isn't capable of getting invited somewhere?" the voice retorted.
"Is there even a doubt about that?" she replied dryly.
"Mom, don't look down on me! I'm a millionaire!" the voice nagged again.
"Alright, alright. Did Sam invite us for dinner?" a rough voice of a middle-aged man chimed in from the next room.
Mohan blushed, his voice dropping slightly, "Yeah..." but then he quickly added, "But I said no, and he still insisted!"
Shaking her head, the woman couldn't help but mutter, "My idiot son! Don't you know about his condition?"
"Yeah, son. He needs rest. I heard he just got out of the hospital today," his father added with concern.
"What?! What happened to him?" Mohan's mother's voice shot up, alarmed.
"Workaholic stuff... headaches and stress," Mohan mumbled.
Unable to hold back, his mother cursed, "You need a good beating!" She stormed off to the kitchen.
"Mom, I didn't even do anything! Why am I the one getting scolded?" Mohan cried out, confused.
His father sighed, "Idiot son. Today, nothing will save you from that broom."
Soon, Mohan's mother returned, broom in hand, charging into his room. Her voice boomed throughout the house.
"Mom! You're violating my rights!" Mohan yelled, dodging her swings.
"I'm a grown man now! You can't beat me with a broom!"
"Oh, so you think you've got rights under my roof. You definitely need more beating!" she shouted, undeterred.
Mohan dashed out of his room, with his mother in hot pursuit. "Mom! Please, forgive me!" he begged, running to hide behind his father.
"Dad, you've got to help me!" Mohan pleaded desperately.
His father simply raised his hands, shrugging. "She's the boss in this house, son. You'd better follow her rules."
"Dad! Even you've betrayed me!" Mohan exclaimed, but his father only smiled knowingly.
"Strategic retreat, my son," he said, chuckling. "War tactics."
"Strategi retreat, my ass!"
...
Somewhere in Indraprastha...
Beep, beep!
"Ugh..." A voice groaned in dissatisfaction as a figure rolled around in bed, turning to his side and pulling the blanket over his ear.
Beep, beep!
The alarm persisted.
"Five more minutes... no," the figure mumbled before his eyes shot open, wide and panicked, as he sat up abruptly. "Guild? Players?" he muttered, clutching his head in confusion.
"Wait..." He stood up, staring at his half-naked body, covered only by loose upper and lower garments. "What is this?" He looked around the room, his face a mixture of disbelief and familiarity. "This... I know this place. Even the smell..."
He stumbled toward the wardrobe, where a large mirror was embedded in the door. With trembling fingers, he reached out and touched his reflection.
"Is this... me?" His voice shook. "Did I... regress?" He didn't dare jump to conclusions. He hurried to the bedside table and snatched up a smartphone, scrolling frantically through the screen.
Time seemed to freeze.
Finally, he exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can save myself..." Tears welled up in his eyes, falling to the ground. "I'm crying?" He stared at his wet hand, a half-smile forming on his lips. "How many years has it been since I cried? I won't live with regret this time."
Taking a deep breath, he glanced around his room once more. Determined, he picked up a towel and muttered to himself, "I'll start this new life with a fresh bath." He stepped into the bathroom, the sound of the shower replacing the oppressive silence that had filled the room.
---
Ten minutes later, the young man emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulders. He stood in front of the wardrobe mirror, his reflection staring back at him. Nostalgia filled his eyes as he touched his face.
"I changed so much in the future... I still can't believe it."
Creak—
The door swung open. A beautiful figure appeared in the doorway, issuing a calm notification, "Amar, we've received orders from above."
For a brief moment, a sharp, burning hatred flickered in Amar's eyes, his relaxed hand tightening into a fist. But quickly regaining control, he replied, "Understood. I'm coming."
"Alright," the figure said, retreating from the doorway.
Watching her leave, Amar sneered at himself. "What a fool I was..." Shaking his head, he muttered, "There's no use dwelling on the past." His gaze hardened, determination flashing in his eyes. "This life, I'll create a better future for myself."
He opened the wardrobe, revealing rows of uniforms, each bearing the emblem of a lion.
Looking at the attire, Amar smirked. "These sure make you stand out... but at what cost?" A conflicted expression crossed his face, torn between love and hatred. "It cost me everything." Clenching his fist, he made a solemn promise to himself, "Now, I'll use this to my advantage."
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực