Victor spent the vast majority of the night poring over academic documents and scrolling through the endless regional folders of the digital database.
He didn’t manage to find a localized story or a specific folk myth that felt genuinely creepy enough to serve as the definitive supernatural anchor for his book, but the grueling session wasn’t a total failure.
By the time his vision started to blur, he had successfully gathered a good amount of detailed technical and geographical information about the lifestyle, weather patterns, and infrastructure limits of the Elysian Highlands.
When his heavy eyelids finally signaled that his body was running low on energy, Victor didn’t make the mistake of collapsing over his keyboard again.
One night of waking up with a severely locked spine and a wooden desk imprinted onto his forehead was more than enough torture for a lifetime.
He shut down his terminal interface, dragged his exhausted frame across the linoleum floor, and crashed heavily into his own bed.
Consequently, when his high-fidelity alarm rang out on Friday morning, Victor woke up feeling infinitely better than he had the previous day.
His muscles didn’t protest, his neck turned smoothly, and his head carried only the faint, standard fatigue of a typical school morning after sleeping late.
He slid out of the comfortable blankets, walked into the tiny bathroom, and thoroughly washed himself under a stream of warm water.
Once he was clean, he pulled on his uniform, layered his signature black undershirt beneath the top, and neatly tucked his messy black hair beneath his favorite dark beanie.
Slung over his shoulder, his backpack felt a little lighter as he checked his pocket to ensure his smartphone was in place.
Stepping over the threshold, he locked his apartment door behind him and headed out into the cool morning air.
He had a few extra minutes to spare before the first bell, so he stopped by a small, quiet street-side kiosk directly on his way to school to grab a quick breakfast.
“Just a warm meat bun and a black coffee, please.” Victor requested politely to the worker.
“That will be four credits,” the worker replied.
Victor pulled his smartphone from his uniform pocket, using a standard Tier 1.5 tactile signal against the counter’s reader to quickly authorize the payment.
The employee handed over the neatly wrapped food and a small bottle of black coffee, both prepared under the Federation’s strict nutritional standards to ensure he wouldn’t crash during his morning lectures.
Although he had gone to sleep late yesterday, he was used to doing that already; otherwise, he wouldn’t have eye bags.
Plus, he had a great night of sleep in his bed.
And with a comfortable night of sleep behind him, Victor’s pace down the avenue was relaxed.
Victor still felt the entire situation was surreal and hard to believe, but he was gradually starting to accept this new reality.
After all, he was still the same seventeen-year-old high schooler with the exact same personality.
The only real difference now was that he finally understood why he had always been so naturally snappy, sarcastic, and depressed.
In a way, he had finally gotten the ultimate answer to why his temperament was the way it was.
Those memories had always been with him from the very beginning, molding him from the shadows; the impact on the football field had simply acted as the decryption key.
Knowing about his past life had undeniably changed things for Victor, causing him to appreciate his current existence much more.
Even if he completely avoided the music industry, he could still live a thoroughly good and comfortable life in this highly advanced world.
His deep-seated traumas were daunting, but Victor was a seasoned master at compartmentalizing and ignoring them.
At least, he liked to think he was.
That was why, as Victor passed through the public park on his final stretch toward the school, the usual barrage of morning exercise music and neighborhood choir rehearsals didn’t make him flinch.
He didn’t dwell on the melodies or look down at his shoes in a panic.
He had already navigated this exact path hundreds of times before without any major issues throughout his childhood.
Now that he had fully accepted his dual reality, he wasn’t nearly as bothered or emotionally exhausted as he had been yesterday when crossing through the exact same crowd.
Victor slipped into the classroom just a few minutes before the first bell, navigating the rows of desks with his usual quiet steps.
He reached his seat in the back corner, unslung his backpack, and settled down for the morning homeroom period.
“Vic! You’re early! Excellent, that means you have exactly four more minutes to listen to my brilliant news,” a massive shadow suddenly boomed over his desk as Dylan materialized right beside him.
Before Victor could even pull his phone out to check his schedule, his friend was already leaning over the desk, launching into a high-velocity monologue about his impending legal adulthood.
In this society, an eighteenth birthday was celebrated with family and friends through a milestone event known as a Passage.
The Passage party could be big or small depending on the family, but it always marked the defining transition of a resonant human’s life. This story is hosted at g.com.
“So I was talking to my mom last night, right? And she said that for my Passage in nine days, we are throwing a family dinner, and she’s even cooking that high-spec acoustic glaze roast that I love! But that’s not even the best part. I’ve been calculating my biological resonance chart every single hour, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that the exact minute my clock strikes my birth hour, my Tier 2 Standard Pulse is going to stabilize instantly!”
“Are you dumb? This is the normal procedure.” Victor chimed in as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.
But Dylan didn’t even care about Victor’s words, and he just kept on with his rant.
“I’ve already planned out my first projection. I’m going to send it to the coach just to show him how crisp my tactile signal is. Oh, and my dad said that once my frequency settles, he might help me pick out a modern, high-end sports synth for the spring track season! Can you believe it? Nine days, Vic. Exactly nine days left until my Passage!”
Victor listened closely, shifting from his typical detached gaze to look directly at his friend.
Since they had been close since middle school, he didn’t always ignore Dylan’s rambling; only when he was too annoying.
Victor knew how much this milestone meant to him.
Turning eighteen and leaving the volatile adolescent half-tier behind was a massive shift for anyone, let alone an athlete who relied heavily on physical and technical precision.
“Nine days, huh?” Victor replied, offering a smile.
“Make sure your dad actually signs off on that sports synth before you start bragging to the coach. You know how he gets about the family budget.”
Dylan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yeah, fair point. But man, a clean frequency… I’ve been waiting for this all year.”
“Who isn’t anxious to turn eighteen?” Victor asked with a short chuckle, leaning back in his chair.
“Hmm… you?” Dylan replied, his tone drifting into complete uncertainty as he eyed his friend’s usual unbothered expression.
“Hey, I am looking forward to it,” Victor said, giving a mock-disdainful look.
“I just don’t externalize my feelings as some people do.”
It was the absolute truth; Victor was genuinely looking forward to turning eighteen.
After all, what person from Earth wouldn’t be incredibly anxious to finally unlock and use a stable, ‘magical’ biological ability?
He wanted to experience what a steady, clean resonance felt like without his adolescent half-tier limitations.
The two friends continued chatting comfortably for a few more minutes, swapping casual jokes until the classroom door slid open and the Literature professor stepped inside to begin the morning lesson.