𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

Walker's Past

While I still have a shred of sanity left, I step out of the plant-filled labyrinth that is Layza’s house. I’ve spent more than a week here with absolutely no progress. Maybe it’s time to cut my losses and shift my focus elsewhere.

If Layza won’t kill Ulso and step up to claim his place as the next chieftain, then there’s only one alternative left—hire cutthroats to do the job for me. This world is insufferable. I’ve never felt so powerless, so utterly weak.

Trudging through the glowing flowers that marked my arrival, I reach the exact spot where I first landed after stepping through the portal. ‘If you’re looking for the exit, just go back to where you appeared and remember the numbers you typed in,’ Layza had said on my first day here, his tone dripping with that insufferable arrogance. ‘I won’t be showing you out.’

Rolling my eyes at the memory of his snark, I prepare to leave. But before I can even start, a hand wraps around my wrist, firm and unyielding. I don’t bother turning around—there’s no one else here but me, Layza, and his precious plant mom in this bizarre, otherworldly place.

“Let go,” I say flatly, the weariness of wasted effort settling deep in my bones.

“Where are you going?” he demands, his voice carrying its usual edge of arrogance. “You can’t kill Ulso on your own.”

I don’t dignify him with a response. Instead, I focus on recalling the exact numbers I punched into the vending machine. The moment they form in my mind, I feel the familiar pull, and then I’m falling again—plunging through the void.

But this time, I’m not alone.

I hit the ground hard, landing on all fours as the impact rattles through me. Coughing, I try to steady myself, but my annoyance flares when I spot Layza sprawled next to me, his clothes rumpled and messy, his hand still firmly clasped around my wrist.

The only consolation in all of this is the satisfaction of seeing him just as disheveled as I feel.

The sky above is an inky void, broken only by the brilliance of the full moon casting its silver glow across the land. For once, I find myself appreciating the night—if only because it’s a relief to see something other than that endless, suffocating pink sky.

I remember how I instinctively knew where the pots and pans were in Layza’s kitchen and wonder if the same works for people—or spirits, as the case may be. The problem is, I don’t know anyone in this world to test it on.

Wait.

Walker.

I focus on him, picturing his face in my mind, willing the strange, voodoo-like power within me to work. And then, there it is—a pull, a magnetic tug deep in my chest. I rise to my feet, like a hound on the trail of its prey, and start following it. Layza, for reasons unknown, trails closely behind me.

I stop abruptly and whirl around to face him. “Are you a puppy?” I snap, exasperation dripping from my voice.

He tilts his head, confusion plain on his face. Honestly, he might as well sprout ears and a tail at this point.

“Why are you following me like some lost pup? Don’t you have responsibilities to tend to?”

“Oh, as a matter of fact, I don’t,” he replies, his tone infuriatingly casual.

Just once—just once—I’d like to have a normal male lead. What’s wrong with these so-called main characters? Doesn’t he have some messiah mission to fulfill or a human girlfriend to go save?

I suppress the urge to scream and forge ahead, ignoring him completely. The pull leads me to the same mansion Walker had taken me to before, though this time it’s swarming with people. Or more specifically, bodyguards. Some of them appear to be searching for something—or someone.

Carefully evading everyone, I make my way to a window, the spirit powers coursing through me making the task effortless, as though the world itself is bending to my will. If I had these powers back in my real world, I’d probably end up as a dictator.

The window is slightly ajar, and I slip through with feline grace, landing softly on the other side. The pull guides me unerringly to a particular room.

But what awaits me there is far from welcoming.

Before Layza can follow, I turn and shut the window behind me, blocking him out.

The room is deathly still, the sterile hum of machines and the rhythmic beeping of monitors the only sounds cutting through the silence. Walker lies motionless in the center of it all, his form dwarfed by the tangle of wires and tubes connecting him to various devices. The faint glow of a heart monitor casts eerie shadows across his pallid face, which is even paler than before—if that’s even possible.

Poor guy. At least now I know the pull works on both the living and the inanimate.

I glance over my shoulder and realize Layza is gone. Good. It’s easier without him hovering around like an overprotective shadow.

Stepping closer to the bed, I gently place my hand on Walker’s forehead, careful not to disturb the delicate machinery encasing him. Despite the awkward circumstances, I owe him for the food and shelter. And I, Fanyin, never forget my debts. Well… most of the time. Survival demands flexibility, after all.

Shrugging off the stray thought, I channel the healing energy coursing through me into him, letting it seep into his frail, unmoving form. My gaze lingers on his face, tracing the hollowed cheeks and the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his skin. An unfamiliar sadness stirs in my chest, like a tiny root planting itself in my heart. How absurd. I don’t even know this man.

Focusing harder, I delve deeper, probing the sickness lodged within him. The moment my energy connects to the foreign force in his body, it hits me like a jolt of lightning—a shocking, visceral revelation that leaves me momentarily breathless.

The energy inside him. It’s the same. The same as Layza’s.

My heart pounds as the realization crashes over me. A cripple. He’s the cripple.

But none of it makes sense. Layza killed the cripple’s mother—or so the story goes. And Walker… clearly, he had a mother.