Gaining an ally

After the system flooded him with all that overwhelming information-a torment he never wished to relive-Art collapsed to the ground and hadn't moved since. The large bed in the room obstructed his vision, so he couldn't see the person who had just entered.

However, moments later, the figure walked around the bed, and their gazes met.

Art immediately recognized the girl standing before him, even though it was his first time meeting her in person.

She appeared to be around his age, perhaps a little older, with short, bright blue hair and striking azure eyes filled with worry. She was stunningly beautiful-several times more so than his ex-fiancé in every way.

According to the memories the system had bestowed upon him, people in this world had a variety of unique hair and eye colors, which he found fascinating. Even his new body possessed golden eyes.

The girl before him wore a special maid outfit that ended just above her knees, paired with knee-high socks. From his memories, he knew she was the one assigned to care for him.

She was the closest person to the previous owner of this body, someone he had thought of as a caring sister.

"Why are you staring at me like that? I told you not to move around recklessly! Now look what happened!" she scolded, attempting a stern tone, but her worried expression softened her words.

'She really cares about him,' Art thought. 'Too bad he's gone.'

She stepped forward, helping him off the floor and guiding him to the bed.

Art hated every second of it.

While the idea of being cared for wasn't inherently bad, he despised relying on others-even for something as simple as standing. Worse, he disliked how effortlessly she lifted him, reminding him of his frailty.

The act brought back bitter memories of a time when care and affection turned out to be lies. Even though the remnants of the former Art's memories compelled him to trust her, he couldn't bring himself to fully open up. He masked his emotions, careful not to let her notice his inner conflict.

After laying him on the bed, she sat beside him and locked eyes with him. Her gaze was piercing, almost searching.

When the previous Art looked at her, his eyes held happiness and gratitude. But now, Art's stare was neutral, detached. If anything, he seemed to be studying her. The change made her uneasy.

"What made you go out on your own, Art?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. "You almost died! Don't you think about how I'd feel if you did? I know better than anyone how much you've been through, but don't you ever give up on life! Even if you can't be like the rest, there are still ways to live happily. You don't have to be a powerful mage!"

Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke.

'She really loves him-or rather, she loved the former Art,' he thought. 'But he never noticed. How pathetic.'

Unfortunately for her, the person she cared for was gone. The current Art was nothing like the one she knew, and he doubted he could ever fall in love again after what he had endured.

The difference in their personalities was bound to cause problems.

Even if he tried to mimic the previous Art, the three people closest to him-the girl before him, his younger sister, and the man his father-would eventually notice the change.

After some thought, he decided on a strategy. Pretending to be the same would cause more harm than good, so instead, he would attribute his changes to his near-death experience. Gradually, he would let his true self emerge.

"Rachael," he said, his tone unfamiliar to her, catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he continued. "I can't imagine how much I worried you. But I don't regret what I did. The girl I saved would've died if I hadn't intervened. And I realized something: I need to get stronger-to protect the people and things I care about. Especially you."

Her cheeks flushed, and her heart raced. She never expected such words from him.

'Cheesy little boy,' came a voice in his head-hers. Art felt embarrassed but didn't let it show. His expression remained determined.

"I've been weak," he admitted, his voice firm. "I lacked conviction. But that ends now."

Rachael listened silently, her emotions a mix of joy and worry.

"You think I'll fail again, don't you?" he asked, reading her expression.

"N-No, that's-"

"I understand," he cut her off gently. "Even I don't know if I'll ever recover from this sickness. But I won't stop trying. I'll give it everything I have, and I won't lose sight of my goal. I'll exceed everyone's expectations.

This is my rebirth."

"So, Rachael, I ask you this: Will you help me achieve my goals?"

He stretched out his hand toward her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at his outstretched hand.

She had taken care of many people with different problems. Not just the Silvers, but other families.

She had begun this when she was 8, at that time only helping out her mother, who died some years after, when she was 15, leaving her alone.

She was heartbroken, not knowing who to turn to, and at that moment, some people who she attended to found it fit to abuse her, but she somehow managed to avoid this. Such an experience left her in shambles, but this all slowly came to a stop after she met Art.

Someone who was in an even worse state than her but always put on a smile and tried his best to become what he wanted for himself.

He was kind, caring, and always helping anyone he could, despite him slowly dying and all the mockery he received.

But his determination began to dwindle until he seemed to have no hope for himself any longer, something which saddened her as she didn't know when she had began falling in love with him and she couldn't blame him.

So seeing him now with a burst of determination was something that made her very happy and even though it was an almost impossible dream she was still glad that he had asked her something like this which meant a lot.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes teary while taking his hand. "Of course, I will."

She had no idea how much of a shock she was in for.