Moments Earlier...
The small flame in his hand crackled despicably and the first thing he did was try to blow air on it, he had saliva splattering on his palm, a ridiculous and instinctive gesture, as if he was extinguishing birthday candles. The flame reacted by shuffling for a split second, giving him hope,before raging back stronger.
Okay, stupid idea. he mumbled impassive .
"Turn off already, damnit!" His voice a bit pitched, toned with both plea and authority even as panic grew, He waved his hand through the air like a madman, fingers spread out, as if he could somehow shake the fire loose.
The flames responded to this by swelling up even brighter while still attached to his open palm like glue.
It was in this interval that he heard it, a groan softly coming from the mechanism that was used on the door.
Click! Hiss!..
The metallic door opened slowly as pressurized air sputtered in, while from behind the door came a voice that filled the room melodically.
" K-Y? You awake in there, sweetheart? "
" Wait!... Don't " Panic gripped him. "I'm naked!" He said, a white lie.
There was a pause. Then a short warm laugh "K-Y, I'm a nurse. You think I haven't seen worse?"
"Just... give me a second!" His voice now toned with embarrassment.
Regardless, the door continued opening anyway, a lot slower, as if whoever was behind it was teasing him.
His panic doubled. They're going to see it. They'll know. He thought
Breathe!
The word surfaced from somewhere deep—maybe Brett's memories, maybe survival instinct. He forced air into his lungs. Slow. Deeper. And with concentration.
The flame flickered first.
He exhaled even slower, deliberately, and watched as it shrunk. Your emotions. Control them. His powers weren't just abilities, they were extensions of his emotional state, his will and Panic was only feeding the beast. The realization hit him hard but he applied anyway.
The flames abruptly winked out just in the nick of time before the woman walked in.
The woman that entered was what Kyrie would call a walking distraction, her chestnut hair in a bun, white nursing gown that he was certain from experience pushed hospital regulations, and a teasing smile that carried more warmth than the fire he'd just quelled.
" Finally awake, huh, K-Y? You've been out for two days." She moved to his bedside. "The doctor said nothing was wrong but your vitals were saying otherwise. Your father kept insisting we only watch over you. It's evident he knows you best."
The familiarity in her tone and the use of K-Y, which seemed like this body's nickname, nudged something in his memories. Impressions of this nurse: flirtatious, bold, and entirely aware of her effect on people.
Father? More fragmented memories surfaced, the nurse, previous episodes, someone who'd brought him here. The nurse leaned closer with her thermometer in hand and his brain completely gave up on the concept of subtlety.
He wasn't sure who was staring, him or Kyrie's body, the feeling was both intentional and impulsive and her cleavage– Well, that occupied his entire field of vision.
Get yourself together! he mumbled inaudibly to himself.
He was a transmigrated soul in an unknown body, in a Victorian fantasy era, with powers, and all he could think of at this moment was how soft the nurse's boobs looked.
At this point, he realized she was doing this on purpose, as even though she showed a level of professionalism in her touch, his now active ability, Empath Sense, laid her emotions bare.
Flirtatious, teasing, confident. She definitely didn't mind being the center of attention at the expense of Kyrie.
At that moment , a translucent screen materialized beside her, offering blessed distraction.
[ HOST OVERVIEW ]
Host: Kyrie Negan Shaw
Soul: Brett Lenhart
Class: Epsilon
Tier: Adept Lvl 5
Archetype: Omni.
Condition: Stable
-------------------------------
Health: 96%
Stamina: 300/300
Psi-Pool: 700/700
Attributes
Strength: 7
Agility: 12
Fortitude: 10
Intelligence: 13
Dexterity: 8
He scanned through his talents, sovereignties, and skills—Telekinesis, Telepathy, Spatial Migration, Probability Manipulation. The Replication and Unbroken sovereignties were still active, while Gluttony and Eternal remained locked.
"At least I'm fast in this world" he muttered. "Just sad there isn't a slot for self-control," he concluded.
"What did you say? " The nurse asked with a brow raised.
" Oh, nothing, was talking to myself," he replied immediately with a nervous grin.
" Mm.. Hmm," she hummed rather unconvinced but unbothered.
While they were discussing, the door soon hissed again, breaking the awkwardness when a man walked in; his presence changed the atmosphere within the room instantly, the nurse quickly adjusted her posture, her emotions flooding with attraction and nervousness.
Kyrie turned to face the direction of the door and recognized the man immediately.
Negan Shaw.
The name released more than a few missing pieces from his unstable memories. Laughter, training, and advice. A guardian. A Father figure.
Negan was a tall, well-built man with bright blue eyes that held a touch of serenity and yet coldness; he had curly brown hair with well trimmed sideburns. He wore a stylish coat over his body giving him a unique level of suave.
"The doctor said he's stable?" Negan asked,
"His vitals are fine, his temperature slightly elevated, but nothing out of the ordinary. He seems much more alert than previous episodes," the nurse responded with a professional tone or tried to.
Negan, whose electric blue eyes glanced at Kyrie for a split second before meeting the nurse's eyes and with a smirk that could melt ice, he responded.
" You've really been a huge help, Miss
Lois. Thank you. " His words were both polite and seductive, stirring a maelstrom in the woman's emotions, much to Kyrie's dismay. He rolled his eyes on the side.
" You're welcome," she replied and turned towards the door, her swaying hips on the other hand carried Kyrie's gaze like a moth to flame with his mind entering autopilot again.
Thawck!
"ouch," his hand flying to his head to caress the spot where Negan had flicked him playfully.
"I have told you not to stare,Negan said with a playful tone," It isn't gentlemanly, you have to keep them chasing."
The advice was borderline Casanova and sleazy, but also fatherly.
Reactive to the advice came memories, similar conversations, lessons in eloquence, etiquette and social manipulation masked as mentorship.
Negan had been teaching this body to be a heartbreaker, and its nature to adapt was duly assimilating it. But underneath the playboy exterior, Kyrie sensed and remembered genuine care from the man.
Negan had taken the original Kyrie in when no one else would, protected him through the episodes and blackouts, which were basically the system rebooting due to the lack of a compatible soul. Was it by his choice or the Architect's design , he didn't know for now, but one thing was certain, this body owed the man.
Negan, looking around, settled down on a chair by the bedside. There was a calmness to him that made Kyrie unsettled.
His piercing blue eyes lingered on the boy while he spoke
"This episode felt different,..." More intense. The hospital said you were seizing for quite some time and your temperature spiked dramatically." His eyes searching Kyrie's face.
"How much do you remember?" He asked calmly
This was it. The moment where Kyrie had to decide how much truth to tell.
The fragmented memories suggested the original Kyrie's episodes involved memory loss and personality shifts. If he claimed complete amnesia, it would be consistent. But something in Negan's expression, his calmness, told him lies would be detected.
"More than usual," Kyrie said carefully. "It's... clearer this time. I remember you. Remember the nurse, too. Before, it was like trying to see through a maze, but now..."
"Now?"
"Now it feels like I'm actually here." The words came out more honest than he'd wanted.
Negan stayed motionless, still studying him almost like he was digesting every word Kyrie had said. Kyrie quite brilliantly resisted the urge to squirm under the penetrating gaze. Then, slowly, Negan smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his face from warm to pure handsome.
"Great," he said simply. "That's very good, Kyrie."
He stood, adjusting his scarf. "I'm going to speak with the nurses about your release. We'll get some proper food in you, and get you to my place. I still wanna keep an eye on you."
The way he said it sent a chill down Kyrie's spine.
Negan knew something had changed, something fundamental. He couldn't exactly tell what it was yet, but he knew he had to take care of Kyrie. He moved towards the door when a voice called out from behind.
"Wait"
The handsome gentleman turned, eyebrow raised.
"Thank you," Kyrie said. "For... everything. For not giving up on me."
The memories behind those words were the original Kyrie's, but the gratitude belonged to Brett Lenhart. This man had kept a deteriorating teenager alive when it would've been more convenient to walk away.
Negan's expression softened. "Family doesn't give up on each other, Boy. Even when things seem impossible." He winked and immediately his eyes turned facing the door, sparks of electricity running through them for a split second.