Back to present day.

  Dinner with my dad felt strangely normal.

  We ate, watched a movie, and didn’t talk about immortals or awakenings. After everything my mother had told me, the silence almost felt deliberate. Like we were both pretending life was still ordinary.

  When I headed upstairs, my dad called after me.

  “Jacob. Don’t forget your vitamins.”

  I stopped halfway up the stairs. Vitamins. I had only started taking them about a year ago. Not because of a doctor. Just because Dad said I should. A thought clicked into place. I walked back to the kitchen.

  “Dad… are these vitamins part of the evolution prep?”

  He smirked.

  “Sharp catch. Yes and no. They don’t trigger awakening, but they do make the process easier on your body.”

  He slid my pill organizer with the Morpher pill and the Immortal Vitamin across the counter.

  “Good night, son.”

  I went to bed with my mind racing. Everything felt unreal.

  Dad is an immortal.

  Mom is a morpher.

  And apparently, I was about to evolve … again.

  Still, from the way Dad talked about it, the awakening window had just started. It could take days.

  So I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

  I woke to buzzing.

  Loud buzzing.

  Then humming.

  Then something like traffic roaring past my ears.

  I groaned and rolled over, shoving my pillow against my head.

  The sheets scraped across my skin.

  It felt like razors.

  I yelped—then instantly regretted it.

  The sound exploded inside my ears like a grenade.

  My tongue tasted chalk.

  Then blood.

  Then ice.

  Then fire.

  I opened my eyes.

  Mistake.

  The darkness in my room felt bottomless—like I was staring into an abyss.

  Something moved in it.

  For a moment, I thought I saw a creature with too many eyes staring back at me.

  I thrashed.

  Pain shot through my body.

  Then something inside my skull tore.

  My bones began to crack.

  First, my neck.

  Then my spine.

  Then every finger, every rib, every joint.

  My ribcage snapped like dry wood.

  Then the pieces forced themselves back together.

  My body stretched.

  Snapped.

  Rebuilt.

  Again.

  And again.

  I screamed until my lungs burned.

  The world dissolved into noise and pain.

  After that… I don’t remember much.

  Only fragments.

  Only agony.

  When I woke up, everything hurt. Not sharp pain. Just a deep, heavy soreness—like every muscle had been beaten with a hammer. I opened my eyes and realized I was staring at the underside of my bed.

  My mattress hung halfway off the frame. My blanket was torn to pieces. I slowly sat up from the floor. My pajamas were shredded. Blood and dark stains covered parts of the fabric—and parts of the room. I looked around.

  My bedroom was destroyed. Furniture overturned. Books ripped apart. A lamp shattered against the wall. Only my closet and desk looked mostly intact. Great.

  I’d have to clean all this. My stomach growled violently.

  Food first.

  I changed into clean clothes and hurried downstairs.

  The kitchen smelled amazing.

  My dad had cooked everything.

  Chocolate chip Pancakes with whipped cream and a cherry on top.

  Bacon, Bratwurst, Schnitzel, Steak.

  Eggs, fried rice, fried chicken, and waffles.

  Grilled cheese with tomato soup.

  And a buffet of unhealthy food, my mom rarely let us eat.

  I dropped into my chair and started devouring it like a starving animal.

  “Easy there,” Dad laughed from the stove. “You’ll choke.”

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  I slowed down.

  Then it hit.

  A sharp, salty taste flooded my mouth.

  Like I’d swallowed ocean water.

  My throat burned.

  I spat the food out immediately.

  “What the—”

  Dad nodded calmly.

  “Right now, you are still hypersensitive. Drink some of the orange water that should help.”

  A cup sat beside my plate.

  Suspicious or not, I grabbed it and gulped the entire thing.

  It burned.

  Then turned sour.

  Then the pain vanished.

  Dad stared at the empty cup.

  “…I said drink some.”

  I froze.

  “Was that bad?”

  He sighed.

  “That solution was meant to help you gradually adjust to food. You just drank the maximum safe dose.”

  “Can’t I have more?”

  “Jacob.”

  His voice turned firm.

  “Too much medicine can kill you. That was your limit.”

  I swallowed nervously.

  “So… what now?”

  Dad leaned against the counter.

  “Now you power through it. If you want any chance to enjoy your food, your senses need to adapt.”

  He gestured at the mountain of food.

  “Start eating.”

  It took four hours.

  Four painful, miserable hours.

  Every bite tasted wrong.

  Too salty.

  Too sweet.

  Too intense.

  But slowly… my body adapted.

  By the final hour, I could actually taste the food again.

  Dad nodded approvingly.

  “Good. Your metabolism spikes after awakening. That’s why you were starving.”

  I leaned back in my chair, exhausted.

  Then another thought hit me.

  “Wait… don’t I have school tomorrow?”

  Dad chuckled.

  “Already handled it. I told them you have the flu. You’re off all week.”

  Relief washed over me.

  But also anxiousness, not knowing what was to come for the training week

  The rest of Sunday was conditioning training.

  Getting used to many common things I face every day, but perceiving in more in depth than I have ever had before, and learning how to dampen those feelings.

  Textures.

  Temperatures.

  Sounds.

  Everything.

  Dad made me practice brushing my teeth, touching different fabrics, and even just walking across the house barefoot.

  Every sensation felt overwhelming at first.

  But slowly… my brain learned to filter it.

  By evening, Dad decided we were ready for something harder.

  A drive. The motion sickness hit immediately. The car ride felt like an endless roller coaster. The engine roared. The heater hissed. The tires screamed against the road. Every sound slammed into my skull at once.

  Through the chaos, I barely heard Dad.

  “Breathe.”

  His voice cut through the noise.

  “Slow breaths. Focus on one sense at a time.”

  I tried taking a deep breath.

  I felt a mixture of air filling my lungs.

  I focused only on that at first.

  Nothing else.

  Eventually, the other sensations faded.

  Once I was able to conquer that sensation of heavy breathing in the car, I moved on to another sense.

  I focused on touch.

  The seat beneath me.

  The air is moving across my skin.

  The vibration of the car.

  One sense at a time, till I conquered them all.

  By the time I opened my eyes again, the car had stopped.

  We were parked outside a small dessert shop.

  Dad grinned.

  “Cold Pebble Creamery.”

  Ice cream.

  Perfect or terrifying.

  Probably both.

  Inside, Dad told me to order anything I wanted, so I did.

  Chocolate, Hazelnut coffee, Mango sorbet, all on top of a sliced open Banana. With Fudge covering it all and whipped cream on top. Finally, a cherry as the final touch.

  A ridiculous mountain of sugar. Dad just laughed and paid for it.

  When we sat down, he placed his phone on the table.

  For a second, I heard a sharp screech inside my head.

  Then it vanished.

  Dad noticed my reaction.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “What was that?”

  “A sound filter. It blocks any irregular from using enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on conversations that are distant from them.”

  My eyes widened.

  “So irregulars have their own tech? Can you just buy it from a tech store or online?”

  Dad nodded.

  “Most of it requires registration to be able to purchase it from a store, but not every store has it. You do need to get permission from the government and some irregular organization to sell this type of equipment.”

  Registration.

  That word made my stomach tighten.

  “Wait, does every irregular or immortal have to register… do I have to register too?”

  He waved the concern away.

  “Every irregular has to register, but don’t worry, I have already handled it.”

  I started to get flustered thinking about everything that happened to me two years ago, what if mom’s secret got revealed, what do I do now?

  “You did?”

  “Of course. Everything okay, son?”

  I took deep breaths to calm myself down so as not to alert dad. If problems arise … well I will cross that bridge when we get there.

  “Yep, everything is okay, just got a weird taste, but handled it.”

  Dad took a sip of his cappuccino.

  “You’ll get an ID card eventually. But you won’t need it yet.”

  He pointed to my melting sundae.

  “Now eat before that becomes soup.”

  The flavors exploded across my tongue.

  Ice.

  Sugar.

  Chocolate.

  Fruit.

  It was overwhelming. But I used Dad’s breathing technique.

  Taste by taste. Layer by layer.

  Eventually, the chaos settled.

  Dad watched me with an amused smile.

  “You look like you’re running a marathon.”

  I glared at him. He slid the extra cappuccino toward me.

  “Try this.”

  I stared at it.

  “Coffee with ice cream?”

  “When I was about your age, this helped reset my taste buds.”

  His voice softened slightly.

  “It was something your grandfather did with me when I first awakened. Think of it as a tradition in our family.”

  I hesitated, not because of the coffee, but because Dad rarely brought up Grandpa. But I did not want to pry further, so I just followed my dad’s example.

  I dropped a scoop of chocolate ice cream into the cup.

  The mixture was strange.

  Cold and hot.

  Sweet and bitter.

  But… it worked.

  Dad smiled.

  “See?”

  We finished eating and drove home.

  A large van sat in our driveway.

  “Forever Cleaning Inc.”

  Two workers in pale blue uniforms carried trash bags out of the house.

  I stared at Dad.

  “Cleaning service?”

  He nodded.

  “Experts in irregular messes.”

  “Relax, do you really think I would force you to clean up such a big mess? " You have been through a lot today,” he said. “It’s handled.”

  Sure enough, when I opened my door, everything was spotless.

  New mattress.

  New sheets.

  Everything repaired. Then I noticed something under my desk. A new computer wrapped with a bow.

  I ran downstairs and hugged Dad.

  “Thank you!”

  He laughed.

  “You have been through a lot, so I wanted to give you something to enjoy after all of this is over.”

  Then his tone turned serious.

  “But you can’t play it till after your conditioning is finished.”

  “Got it.”

  I went back upstairs, exhausted but excited. The day had been painful, overwhelming, and terrifying. But for the first time… it also felt like the beginning of something I was not being held back from.

  I fell asleep wondering what tomorrow’s training would bring.