Once they were gone, silence fell again inside the house.
Mark returned to Meg's side, lowering himself to his knees.
He gazed at her sleeping face—soft, mature, the kind of beauty that radiated motherly warmth.
It reminded him of those comforting presences he had always longed for after his parents passed away.
He had encountered that aura in coworkers, in strangers, even in older women who had shown him kindness—but never truly felt it for himself.
Maybe that's why this moment struck so deeply.
Mark shook his head, brushing the thoughts away, and placed a gentle hand on Meg's forehead.
He closed his eyes and focused, willing his trait—Debuff Transfer—to activate.
Once again, a digital-like map of Meg's body formed in his mind.
Glowing red nodes pulsed across the figure, marking the lingering afflictions.
Most of them were now mental debuffs—trauma, fear, anxiety. Only a few physical remnants remained.
The poison had stopped spreading, but stubborn traces still clung deep within her.
From the look of it, those toxins had rooted themselves too far for simple healing to fully cleanse.
'So divine healing doesn't fix everything', Mark thought.
'Maybe the priest wasn't a high-level one... or maybe this is just how it works.'
He didn't dwell on it.
Instead, he prepared himself—deep breaths, clenched jaw and mental focus sharpened like a blade.
And then, he invoked the transfer.
In an instant, 100% of Meg's remaining debuffs—mental and physical—surged into his own body.
Unlike before, there was little physical pain. But the mental flood hit him like a storm.
His mind twisted.
He gasped, feeling a rush of overwhelming dread, sorrow, and helplessness.
Thoughts that didn't belong to him slammed into his consciousness—fear of death, and most piercing of all, the unbearable terror of leaving her daughter behind.
He had no daughter. But Meg did.
Yet in this moment, the emotions weren't hers—they were his.
Adopted, inherited, soaked into the corners of his heart like ink on paper.
The thoughts were unbearable.
Some were faint whispers, easy enough to ignore.
But others… others were sharp, overwhelming—crashing against the walls of his mind like waves in a storm.
"Ah—ghk…!" Mark grunted, staggering forward as if something invisible had struck him.
It wasn't physical pain.
No cuts, no bruises.
But the agony was real. It tore through his thoughts like a clawed hand, scraping at memories long buried.
It was mental pain—raw, suffocating.
The kind of pain he might have felt when he lost his parents in his past life.
Or maybe even worse.
He couldn't remember that moment clearly anymore.
It had been too long. Time had dulled the details, buried the grief.
But this pain…
It was maddening.
He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, pushing through the crashing wave of borrowed pain.
"Not now… Focus…!" he growled to himself.
He was trying—no, fighting—to focus again.
Gritting his teeth, clenching his fists, dragging his mind back from the edge.
He couldn't take it. Not again. Not a full 100% mental debuff hitting all at once.
It was like being crushed under a flood of emotion, memory, fear—everything—all in a single, brutal moment.
It was too much.
Thoughts spiraled out of control.
He couldn't think straight.
Couldn't breathe.
His vision blurred, not from tears, but from the sheer mental pressure bearing down on him like a mountain collapsing.
But finally, like a desperate diver breaking the surface, he called upon his second trait—Instant Regeneration.
And in a breath, clarity returned.
The physical pain, though not intense, had still lingered—but now, it faded away.
The stubborn venom debuff he had suffered from also vanished completely.
Even the damaged tissues caused by the debuff were restored, returning to their normal, peak state.
But…
Unlike the physical one's, the overwhelming thoughts, didn't vanish—they melted into him.
They softened, dulled, and sank to the edges of his awareness.
His mind cleared, his focus returned.
He was himself again… but not totally.
In the quiet of his mind, those foreign memories and emotions still lingered—faint, fading, but not gone.
Not entirely.
Not like the body, which could reset and return to its peak.
He could feel it—traces remained.
Seeing this, Mark frowned, his thoughts heavy.
'Instant Regeneration doesn't erase the trauma… it just makes me stable again. It resets my body—not my soul.'
He blinked thinking this, looking down at Meg's face—so peaceful now, so soft.
And then the strangest thing happened.
He thought of Mia.
Not as her daughter.
But… as his.
Just a flicker of emotion.
Just a whisper of attachment.
But it was there.
"This… this isn't right," he told himself. "That's not me…"
And yet, the borrowed feeling still clung to the edge of his heart.
Mark pressed a hand to his forehead, breathing heavily.
'Fuck… what kind of mess did I get myself into this time?'
He exhaled shakily, trying to calm himself.
'I can't just take in trauma like this again next time… Even with Instant regeneration, I'm absorbing fragments of who they are. If I'm not careful… I won't be me anymore.'
He remained by Meg's side in silence, processing what had just happened.
Meanwhile, in her dreams—Meg smiled.
The heaviness that had haunted her for years—poverty, exhaustion, loneliness, the dread of dying and leaving her child alone—had all faded.
She didn't know how, but for the first time in her life, her heart was quiet.
Her pain… was gone.