CHAPTER 53: CHAPTER: 53 ONLY CHARLOTTE REMAINED IN HIS HEART.

It had been a month since Vivian enrolled in the academy, yet he hadn’t made a single friend. He lay sprawled on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, his thoughts heavy.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want friends, it was just difficult.

But Charlotte and Marinate had somehow made it impossible.

Their rivalry grew fiercer by the day, and anyone who so much as tried to talk to him was met with the girls’ icy stares and subtle threats.

He let out a long sigh. "Although I love Charlotte," he murmured, "she can be a bit... extreme sometimes."

His mind wandered back to that morning’s breakfast.

The room had been quiet, just the clinking of cutlery, until Charlotte suddenly broke the silence.

"Vivian," she’d said, looking straight at him. "Do you love me?"

When he heard her ask so openly, Vivian nearly choked on his food.

Heat rushed to his cheeks as he stammered, "W–well, Charlotte, where did that come from? Aren’t we already... in that kind of relationship?"

He wanted to say more, something honest, something real, but the words caught in his throat.

Courage failed him the moment he looked into her eyes.

Charlotte only smiled faintly and said nothing, turning her gaze back to her plate.

A dull ache spread in his chest.

Though her lips curved upward, her eyes held a trace of disappointment she didn’t bother to hide.

He didn’t mention it.

He just picked up his fork again, eating in silence while that unspoken feeling lingered between them like a shadow neither dared to name.

The memory of Charlotte’s eyes surfaced whenever Vivian was alone, and each time it did, a faint ache bloomed in his chest.

"Sigh... I wish I had the courage to tell you how much I love you," he muttered, pushing himself up from the bed.

As he stood, a dull pain throbbed behind his temples. He rubbed his head and made his way to the washroom.

Ever since he’d returned from classes that afternoon, a strange sense of loss had been gnawing at him, like he’d forgotten something precious without realizing what it was.

The headache only made it worse, dulling the world around him as the unease crept deeper.

In the washroom, Vivian stood before the basin and looked into the mirror.

For once, he didn’t feel like fooling around. He splashed cold water on his face, watching the droplets trail down before lifting his gaze to the reflection.

The same face stared back, the one he’d grown used to since transmigrating.

Vivian’s face.

"I wonder what Mother’s doing now," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He pictured her sitting by the window, stitching embroidery while keeping an eye on Edward as he trained in the courtyard.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Father’s probably buried in paperwork again..."

A sigh slipped out. "I miss them," he said softly, his reflection blurring for a moment, not from the water this time, but from the weight in his chest.

He kept staring at his reflection, lost in thought. Every morning he woke full of energy, ready to face the day, but whenever he was alone, something bitter welled up inside him.

"Am I deceiving them?" he whispered to the figure in the mirror.

He couldn’t tell them. No matter what happened, he couldn’t reveal that he wasn’t the original Vivian, that he was merely borrowing this body, these memories... and these emotions.

Yes, emotions too. He truly felt the affection the old Vivian once had: warmth toward his parents, tenderness toward his grandparents, people he had never even met.

It was strange, unsettling even, yet comforting in its own way.

Still, the more he felt those emotions as his own, the heavier the guilt pressed on his heart.

Pretending was one thing, but feeling what wasn’t his made it impossible to silence that quiet ache of shame.

He kept staring into the mirror, lost in thought, when it happened.

"Huh...?" His reflection blurred.

For a moment, he thought it was just the water in his eyes, but then the image began to warp, rippling like disturbed glass.

The dull throb in his head flared without warning.

"W-what’s happening?" he muttered, clutching his temples.

The pain pulsed harder, sharper, as if invisible needles were piercing straight through his skull.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breath, but the world around him tilted.

The reflection had vanished completely, only a smear of light and motion remained.

"Ahhh—!" The scream tore out of him before he could stop it.

Stumbling backward, he gripped the edge of the basin for support, his legs shaking.

Somehow, he managed to stagger out of the washroom, half-blind from pain, and collapse into his room.

Vivian lay sprawled on the floor, clutching his head as the agony tore through him.

The pain didn’t fade, it grew, swelling until it felt like his skull might burst apart.

His vision had long vanished; the world was nothing but black haze and pressure closing in from all sides.

"Wh-what... is this pain?" he gasped, rolling across the floor.

The throbbing only intensified, pulsing with a violent rhythm that drowned out every thought.

He screamed. The sound was raw, jagged, and as he forced his eyes open, two streams of bloody tears slid down his cheeks.

"N-no... this pain—" His voice broke. Desperation took over.

He stumbled to his feet and began swinging his fists, striking blindly at anything within reach.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Each punch shattered something, chairs, tables, the edge of his bed, splinters and fragments scattering across the room.

But there was no relief. The agony only deepened, and his hands grew slick and bloody, skin tearing from the relentless collisions.

Still, he kept punching, as if breaking the world around him might somehow quiet the storm inside his skull.

Vivian’s rampage showed no sign of stopping.

His breath came in ragged bursts as he stumbled through the wreckage of his room, knocking over what little was left standing.

"Guh—!" He suddenly doubled over and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The crimson spread beneath him like a dark mirror.

The pain was unbearable now, every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking his skull.

In a desperate attempt to drown it out, he turned toward the wall and began slamming his head against it.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Each strike echoed through the room, dull and wet, the sound almost lost beneath his hoarse gasps.

Blood streamed down his face, tracing along his chin before dripping onto the shattered floorboards. His body swayed, strength leaving him with every breath.

Finally, he stumbled back and collapsed, collapsing amid the debris, his own blood and tears mixing on the cold floor as the world slipped into a suffocating silence.

Vivian’s body lay motionless, blood pooling beneath him. For a long while, there was only silence.

Then, a twitch.

His fingers stirred. His eyelids fluttered.

Moments later, his legs shifted, scraping weakly against the floor as though testing whether they still belonged to him.

And then his eyes snapped open.

This time, they weren’t clouded or confused.

They burned with sharp clarity, and a quiet, haunting longing.

He flexed his bloodied hands, then slowly pushed himself upright.

Not a groan escaped him, even though the pain must have been unbearable.

Bending down, he picked up a shard of the broken mirror from the floor.

The reflection staring back was his own face, smeared with blood, yet strangely calm.

But those eyes... they held a cold, unfamiliar light, and from them seeped a killing intent so heavy it chilled the air.

A faint smile curved his lips as he whispered, "I really came back...?"

He stared into the shard of the broken mirror, lost in its fractured reflection.

The eyes that looked back at him were cold, too cold. No one who saw them would ever believe this was the same Vivian who once stammered before girls and smiled too easily at kindness.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then a weary sigh escaped his lips.

"Haa..."

He reached inward, calling for the system in his mind. Silence answered him.

"So it’s true, huh?" he murmured.

As the words left his mouth, a sudden thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.

The frost in his gaze melted into something else, something raw and aching.

"Charlotte..."

Her name trembled on his tongue.

Without hesitation, he slammed his foot against the floor and surged forward.

The ground cracked beneath the force.

He didn’t bother with the door, he simply tore through, the air bursting in his wake as he rushed out.

At this moment, nothing else existed in Vivian’s mind.

Only one name echoed through him, each heartbeat thudding in its rhythm.

Charlotte.

Longing. Yearning. Anticipation. Grief. And fear.

Yes, fear.

Fear that this was only a dream. Fear of being deceived again. Fear that he might never see her face once more.

Yet above all those fears, one truth burned unwaveringly in his heart, her name.

The name he had longed for.

The name he had hoped for.

The name he had waited for.

The name he had endured for.

Only that name remained in his heart.

Only Charlotte remained in his heart.