I'm going to die.
That was the first thought that crossed Lyxander's mind after the bullet pierced his head.
How ironic—it was said that he possessed an exceptionally fast mind. Yet now, standing before a bullet, the only thing he could think of was his own death.
That ability had turned into a curse.
Fear surged through him, but his mind betrayed him, stretching those final seconds into something unbearably slow.
'Isn't this bullet moving a bit too slowly?' he wondered.
"Hah…" A weak breath escaped his lips.
'What a waste. I shouldn't have exposed Oscar as the murderer from the beginning.'
'But still… there were far too many clues handed to me. This is strange. Almost as if someone knew I was capable of solving this case.'
'Wait. My brother is a Six-Star—known as the strongest Crow. What would happen if he returned and abandoned his post?'
'Crows only guard a single territory. Then… what exactly is my brother guarding?'
'Ugh… damn it. Why can't I think properly anymore?'
'Ah… I see now. The bullet has already passed through my head.'
Lyxander collapsed onto the floor.
He was dead.
—
Lyxander regained consciousness.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
"This…?!"
Shock and confusion flooded his mind.
"My home…!"
A small house tucked away in a narrow alley.
It was Lyxander's home from his previous life.
At this moment, he stood not as Lyxander—but as his true self.
Satria.
That was his name in his former life. A name he deeply missed, though there was no one left who could call him by it.
He stepped out of the living room where he stood.
"Sit down, Satria."
The voice was painfully familiar.
A voice he had longed for—
His father's voice.
"Dad!"
A man who looked quite young, despite being well into his thirties. Satria's mother had been pregnant with his older sibling at sixteen, so it wasn't strange that his father appeared younger than expected.
Satria sat down across from his father, separated by a table.
"How have you been?" his father asked.
"I want to say I'm doing fine… but I just died," Satria replied.
"It seems you truly weren't born with good fortune," his father teased.
"Haha… you're right." Satria's face fell.
"I really missed you."
"Hehe, it's surprising to hear words like that coming from you," his father replied.
Satria lowered his head.
Even if this was nothing more than an illusion before death, he felt happy.
"You're right."
"Right about what?" his father asked.
"Nothing… it's just… I'm sorry."
"What are you apologizing for?"
"I've just… never apologized before."
"I never apologized for calling you a useless father."
"I never apologized for hitting you so hard."
"I never apologized for constantly causing you trouble."
"I never apologized for making you compensate the people I beat up."
Tears began to fall from Satria's eyes.
"I… I never apologized for anything."
Thud.
Satria fell from his chair and knelt at his father's feet.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I'm truly sorry. I really missed you, Dad."
"Satria," his father whispered gently.
"A father doesn't want to hear apologies from his child. What he wants to hear is, 'Thank you for raising me well.'"
Satria looked up and saw his father smiling warmly.
"Goodbye, my beloved son."
—
"DAD!"
Lyxander jolted awake in a hospital room.
He raised his hand toward the ceiling and shouted, startling Tadeus, who was lying in the bed beside him.
Lyxander looked around, then his gaze stopped on Tadeus.
"You're awake?" Tadeus asked, still shocked.
Lyxander laughed. "Haha."
"Take a guess. Here's a hint—use your eyes."