The migraine struck before he even left the building.

  Ren Aster stopped abruptly in the nearly empty hallway, his hand instinctively pressing against his temple.

  — Ngh…

  A dull pulse throbbed behind his eyes.

  Not normal pain.

  Deeper.

  More… intrusive.

  As if something in his brain had been overworked.

  He stayed still for a few seconds, breathing slowly so he wouldn’t draw attention from the other students still passing by.

  …It’s worse than yesterday.

  Since the system’s activation, his body no longer felt entirely like his own.

  Subtle.

  But undeniable.

  Every micro-improvement came with backlash.

  And today…

  Today, he had truly felt it.

  In his dodges.

  In that precise moment when his body had moved a little better than usual.

  A little too well.

  [User status: mild mental fatigue.]

  The translucent window briefly appeared in his field of vision.

  Ren clenched his jaw.

  — I see…

  His voice was low.

  Almost a breath.

  The system did not respond.

  It never really did.

  It observed.

  It recorded.

  It waited.

  And that cold neutrality…

  …was starting to worry him.

  Ren finally straightened and resumed walking toward Astraeus’s exit.

  The sky over Eidryss was still gray.

  Still damp.

  Still heavy.

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  As if the entire city were holding its breath.

  By late afternoon, Ren had already arrived at the hospital district.

  The smell of disinfectant had become far too familiar.

  He passed through the hospital’s automatic doors with his bag still slung over his shoulder. The white lights of the lobby slightly assaulted his tired eyes.

  He hadn’t even gone home first.

  As usual.

  His steps carried him almost automatically toward the elevator.

  Level 6.

  Long-term care.

  His hand tightened slightly when the doors opened.

  The hallway was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  He hated that silence.

  He stopped in front of the room.

  Hesitated for a second.

  Then entered.

  Amane was asleep.

  As often.

  Her face was pale against the pillow, framed by dark hair that had grown a little too thin. The machines around the bed emitted their steady beeps.

  Alive.

  But fragile.

  Ren stood motionless near the door for a few seconds.

  Every time…

  It was the same.

  That mix of relief and pressure tightening his chest.

  He finally stepped closer.

  — …I’m here.

  His voice was low.

  Gentle.

  He quietly set his bag on the floor.

  Amane didn’t wake right away.

  So Ren pulled the chair and sat down.

  Silence settled.

  His eyes naturally fell on the medical file resting on the side table.

  He shouldn’t have looked.

  But he did anyway.

  As always.

  His fingers turned the page.

  And his stomach immediately tightened.

  Accumulated fees — current month:

  — Increasing

  His hand froze.

  Damn…

  Again.

  Always more.

  His fingers tightened slightly on the paper.

  Even with the scholarship.

  Even with the part-time jobs.

  Even cutting costs everywhere…

  …he was still behind.

  Always too slow.

  Always not enough.

  A dull anger slowly rose in his chest.

  At himself.

  At his weakness.

  At this world that left no room for those who fell behind.

  The system window pulsed softly.

  [Observation: user motivation increasing.]

  Ren lifted his eyes slightly.

  His gaze hardened a notch.

  — …You’re seriously insane.

  No response.

  Of course.

  But deep inside…

  He could almost feel the system’s attention sharpening.

  Like a scientist finally seeing interesting data.

  A slight movement caught his attention.

  Amane was stirring.

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  Then slowly opened.

  — …Ren…?

  His heart tightened instantly.

  The hardness in his eyes vanished as if it had never existed.

  — Yeah. I’m here.

  A faint smile stretched across Amane’s lips.

  — You came straight after class again…

  — It’s normal.

  She watched him for a few seconds.

  Too long.

  As if she were searching for something.

  Then her gaze softened… but a thin line of worry remained between her brows.

  — Ren…

  He stiffened slightly.

  — …You’re not overworking yourself, right?

  His breath caught for a fraction of a second.

  Always the same.

  Even in this state…

  She was still worrying about him.

  His fingers tightened very slightly on his knees.

  — Don’t worry. I’m fine.

  A clean lie.

  Controlled.

  But Amane knew him too well.

  Her eyes narrowed faintly.

  — Liar…

  Ren looked away slightly.

  A soft silence fell between them.

  Then Amane murmured,

  — …How’s school going?

  The question.

  Always the same.

  And always just as heavy.

  Ren inhaled slowly.

  Then answered simply:

  — …As expected.

  She understood.

  Of course she understood.

  But she didn’t push.

  She never had.

  Her smile returned.

  More fragile.

  But sincere.

  — You’ll make it, Ren.

  Something tightened violently in his chest.

  Stronger than the pain.

  Stronger than the fatigue.

  Stronger than anything.

  His fingers slowly curled.

  —

  [Passive Echo — minor resonance.]

  Ren almost flinched.

  Very slightly.

  That sensation again.

  That ancient presence.

  Distant.

  As if something inside him… was listening too.

  He lowered his gaze.

  His pupils trembled for a fraction of a second.

  [Compatibility: 1.3%]

  …It was rising.

  Slowly.

  Dangerously.

  Ren lifted his eyes toward Amane.

  Then, very softly—almost like a promise he didn’t yet fully understand—he murmured:

  — …Yeah.

  His fingers tightened.

  — I’ll make it.

  And somewhere, deep within Unlimited Evolution Human Potential…

  …the system silently continued recording its subject’s progress.

  [Status: evolution in progress.]

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