It had been a bad day for him.
Which meant it was just another ordinary day.
The morning began like any other. A quiet breakfast at home with his father, followed by the long walk to what they called a school. To him, it felt more like a correctional facility for youth.
It was a coliseum.
And he was the gladiator, thrown into the pit without a weapon, expected to fend off beasts.
The beasts had names.
They wore school uniforms.
They came from wealth.
And he was poor. That alone made him a target for the school's pack of bullies. His patched clothes and worn-out shoes were all the invitation they needed. He had no status, no shield. Even worse, the teachers and staff did nothing.
Maybe they were afraid.
Maybe they were bought.
Either way, they looked the other way.
Today was supposed to be different. It was his birthday.
He had planned to go out with his father, maybe enjoy a little break from the pressure that crushed his chest every day.
But today the pressure changed. It shifted.
It grew heavier.
The usual headache that haunted him for weeks had become something unbearable.
It started during class. At first, he thought it was just the usual throb. But within minutes, his vision blurred. His ears rang. The walls around him pulsed like they were breathing. His thoughts scattered. The voices—those distant whispers—grew louder.
He didn't ask for permission.
He didn't say a word.
He ran. Hands clutching his head like it was about to split open. He didn't notice the stares. He didn't care. He just had to get out. Anywhere but there.
Now he was here.
Lying on an unfamiliar couch in a dim, warm room. Across from him stood a tall, middle-aged man. He was calmly brewing tea.
The boy sat upright, dazed. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious.
"I… thank you for your help," he said with a hoarse voice. "I don't know your name…"
The man looked up with calm, unreadable eyes. "Flike. My name is Flike."
The boy opened his mouth again, but Flike spoke first.
"No need. I know who you are, Morphy."
Morphy blinked.
He tried again.
"I need to go home. Today is important. I have school tomorrow. I had plans with my dad. I don't know what happened, but if you can just tell me what this is… I can get medicine on the way back. I'll be fine."
Flike didn't look at him. His tone was sharper now.
"You can't leave yet."
Morphy frowned.
"The first twenty-four hours after a Dreambreak are critical," Flike said. "If I hadn't brought you here, you'd be strapped to a bed right now in some government facility, burning alive from the inside out while they debated if you were even human anymore."
Morphy froze. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
All of this,
because of a headache?