Chapter 15. My Brother

As we returned home, my heart raced wildly in my chest. It was the same house I lived in during my previous life—a place where solitude and oblivion coexisted with me like old friends.

In my youth, I shared this spacious house with my father's parents. However, their decision to settle in a peaceful corner left me here in complete solitude. The house welcomed me with neglect and desolation, a testament to my status as a mere guest in my own dwelling. Rare visits from my parents did not allow me to feel the harmony and strength needed to care for the house as it deserved. Withered plants and dried-up trees spoke of their neglected upkeep.

Thus, my childhood home awaited me with its losses and imperfections. Situated in the heart of the city, the house seemed engulfed in oblivion, its facade weathered and cracked.

Yet, this house had undergone a transformation, revealing all its glory. The flowers and trees looked meticulously tended, as if anticipating my return. Lush flowerbeds and neatly laid tiles on the pathways added charm to the place. This charm persisted as I approached the grand pool shimmering in the distance. The sunlight danced upon its surface, and I couldn't help but smile, realizing that such a luxurious pool didn't exist in my native world. The stairs leading into the water enticingly adorned its walls, inviting one to take a plunge.

And there, not far from the pool, I noticed a barbecue, beckoning to friendly gatherings. Perhaps, if my parents had stayed here, everything would have been as magical and hospitable as it was now. Warmth and joy washed over me as I, at least in this world, got to see this delightful place.

Despite the joyous emotions, I hurried after my parents, not wanting to be distracted by exploring every inch of the house. Inside, I followed Ainagul, and behind us was Arman. Each step inside the house awakened deep memories, and my heart was filled with the feelings associated with the numerous days spent with Ainagul. Everything here was so familiar yet simultaneously new, as if I had returned to a home filled with warmth and friendship.

However, at the same time, I felt the bitterness of realizing the contrast between my world and his. As I took off my shoes and prepared to move further into the expanse of the house, my gaze suddenly fell upon the young man standing before me.

"Oh, brother, you've returned!" he exclaimed with exuberant joy in his voice.

In that moment, moments from the past flashed before my eyes, as if I had lived that life—a magnificent and wonderful life—alongside him and my precious parents. Memories flooded me, blending into an indistinguishable kaleidoscopic mosaic, and I no longer knew who I was. Emotions from the life I possessed surged through me like a river into a boundless sea. His love for family, for friends, and especially for her penetrated my being, as if I were discovering someone else's passions and desires within myself.

The stronger his emotions permeated me, the deeper my unrest grew. In my world, he was sick, weak, and vulnerable. But here... here, he was strong and healthy. In the memories I inherited, I saw how he grew, as if I were inside his body, and I faintly felt that I was present beside him, like an invisible companion. We experienced childhood joys and sorrows together, exploring the world, fighting, and making up, like two souls inseparable on that harsh path of childhood. He was my blood brother, but he became my blood enemy, separating me from our parents.

All those memories of family—they were exceptionally vivid and radiant. Father, mother, him, me, and our grandmother and grandfather—we were bound by inseparable love and tenderness, never leaving each other even for a moment. They were a happy family, traveling together, ablaze with genuine joy that I couldn't help but share, as the person I became. Their world was different, unexplored, yet thrilling and sincere, like a dream wrapped in kindness and family ties.

So there I stood, confronted by my past and my present, and every moment reminded me that I had become an outsider, living outside my world and space. A fire of jealousy burned in my heart, making me view this new world with hatred and envy. A world where he—strong and healthy—lived his life, and I—weak and lonely—was a native of a different world, deprived of the opportunity to truly experience everything he had.

Fury and anger filled my heart, but joy and happiness broke through the dark whirlpool of emotions. I felt torn apart, unable to find peace in this sea of contradictions. My heart swirled with tumultuous passions, desires and envy intertwined in burning melancholy.

Though I wished to savor moments of happiness that penetrated my soul, envy toward him tormented me. Hatred for my blood brother, for taking away my parents, drowned all that was good in my heart.

Here, in this world, I understood that he would have been a wonderful brother, with whom I would have wanted to share my life. But in my world, he was just a sick and helpless child. While I felt like a worthless shadowy being, a prisoner of my world and my loneliness. My parents in this world were entirely different—like wonderful fairy tale characters—affectionate, tender, and full of love. In this world, they were true parents who cared for their children and radiated unfeigned tenderness. However, in my world, they were absent, always preoccupied with taking care of my sick brother, leaving me alone with my aspirations and hopes.

They always told me I had to understand them, had to love them, even when they were absent. But in their absence, I lost so much—school, education, friendship—all of it remained far away from me. They were always with him, with their sick and helpless son. His name, Jassur, translated as "young," "healthy," and "strong." Ironical, isn't it? In my world, he was sick and weak, but only in this world did fortune favor him, granting him health and strength.

Clasping my hands tightly, especially the palm that held Ainagul's hand, I retreated within myself. This state of immersion lasted only a few seconds until Ainagul turned to me. I felt her pain and hurriedly released her hand, as if escaping from something dangerous, as if afraid of the previous owner of this body.

"Temir, what's wrong? Does it hurt?" she said, trying to gently free her hand.

I looked at her, still under the influence of emotions from the previous "me" that I, for some reason, couldn't overcome. The internal struggle within me continued, tearing my soul apart. For a few moments, I unconsciously attempted to embrace her or do something of the sort, but just in time, I managed to break free from those thoughts and quickly released her hand, pushing away the intrusive idea.

"Yes, sorry. I just... remembered something, but it's gone now," I apologized with uncertainty.

Fleeting emotions passed over her face, as if my words initially brought joy, but quickly shifted to worry and disappointment. I sensed that my response had disappointed her, but I couldn't allow myself to tell the truth. It was too dangerous, and the ever-changing expression on her face, shifting in an instant, struck me deeply.

"I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched you. Maybe you would have remembered something... Oh, I'm being foolish," she whispered, expressing sadness.

"Don't worry, Ainagul, he will probably remember everything soon. This is his home after all, so he will definitely remember us, you, and me. He'll remember everything, no, he must remember everything," Arman intervened with a smile, trying to uplift her spirits.

"Don't fret, Ainagul. It's still his home, so he'll surely remember everything: us, you, and Arman. He will remember it all," Mom said with hope.

However, when Jassur heard their conversation, his face filled with anxiety and fear.

"You're talking about the brother? Why doesn't he remember us?" he asked, almost shouting.

Father, approaching Jassur, calmly replied, "He was in the dungeon today, and his team left him alone. Perhaps, due to the stress or gaining abilities from there, he lost his memory, but the healer said it's temporary. So, calm down, he might remember everything today. You heard what Mom said."

Once again, a sense of internal turmoil overwhelmed me. My family immediately sensed that something was off with me, and I was forced to assure them that it would pass. While they tried to comfort me, I observed Jassur. He was an ordinary guy of about 18 or 19, sincere and pure-hearted. He attracted attention with his natural kindness and openness.

His gaze was filled with genuine purity, as if he had never known deceit or lies. Every feature of his face reflected the sincerity and goodness of his soul, making me feel somehow indebted to him. His dark chestnut hair, thick and shiny, symbolized his youth and energy, which he exuded effortlessly.

Looking at Jassur, I felt excitement and uncertainty inside me. His mere presence brought me confidence and calmness, as if I had reunited with my family. But my thoughts were in turmoil, and I had to find a way to come to terms with the fact that I was a stranger here, and somewhere deep inside, my soul still ached for answers.

Overcoming this internal conflict, I spent the remaining time with them until bedtime, pretending to admire photos and videos of the previous "me," even though I had no such memories. At most, I had childhood memories of my grandparents, who had also left me in the end.

Thus, I spent the remaining time with them until bedtime, preparing to tell them tomorrow that I remembered everyone, as I needed to hurry back to my first dungeon to learn the abilities obtained from Ever and save the world, which seemed to have become my only home.