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"Sigh…," he exhaled deeply, standing up. "What day is it today?" Lucian reached for the new phone he had bought yesterday, a consequence of throwing his old one away in a fit of frustration. "Monday, huh? Oh right, I’m still in my first year… It’s strange to think I’ve regressed.

Everything feels familiar but distant, like I’m living in a memory." He stared at the date for a moment longer before locking the phone. "Let’s leave the past to the past. Time for a fresh start."

As Lucian stood up to head for the bathroom, a notification echoed in his mind.

[Host, you have a pending reward. Yesterday, you achieved an accomplishment: Sacrificing your love for love. Would you like to receive it?]

Lucian froze mid-step. "What did I do yesterday?" he wondered aloud, trying to recall the details through his drunken haze. The title of the accomplishment made it clear, but the memory was a blur. "Oh well. Whatever. Just open it, Max," Lucian shrugged, heading toward the bathroom.

"Not like I’m excited about rewards anymore." He had lost count of how many rewards he had earned over the years, all tied to sacrifices for people who never truly appreciated him.

[Congratulations, host! You have received double the charisma you had before.]

Lucian paused in front of the mirror, feeling a strange but brief sensation wash over him. He blinked and examined his reflection, but nothing appeared different. His dark, sharp eyes stared back at him, his jawline just as chiseled, his long hair framing his face. "Hey Max, that reward didn’t seem to change much," Lucian said, turning his head to study his features more closely.

[Charisma isn’t always about physical change, Host. It’s the aura, the magnetic pull that makes people naturally drawn to you. You’re more handsome and likable now, but it’s subtle. Give it time.]

Lucian rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t deny feeling slightly more confident, even if there wasn’t a dramatic change. "Sure, whatever you say." He finished freshening up, quickly dressed in a black pair of trousers and a white shirt. The simplicity of his outfit only accentuated his natural handsomeness, his sharp features enhanced by the confidence in his demeanor.

As he buttoned the last button and ran a hand through his long hair, he noticed the way his aura seemed to radiate more than before. It was subtle but undeniable.

With his shoes on, Lucian made his way downstairs, craving the familiar comfort of a cup of coffee. However, something immediately felt off as he descended the stairs. His mother, Olivia, was sitting on the sofa just as she had the day before, but today, her gaze was locked onto him, soft and unusually warm.

Two coffee cups sat on the table in front of her, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air.

Lucian hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. "Why is she still here? Shouldn’t she be at work?" His mother was never home at this time, always too busy with business meetings or running the family empire. And what was with that look in her eyes? They were gentle, almost apologetic so different from the cold, distant gaze he had grown accustomed to.

He couldn’t help but feel uneasy, the memory of his mother from his previous life clashing with the one sitting before him.

As he made his way toward the kitchen, his mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Lucian, wait," Olivia called softly. "I’ve already made your coffee. I know how you like it... I made it myself. It’s still hot, just the way you prefer."

Her voice was trembling slightly, filled with a tenderness Lucian hadn’t heard in years. He turned his head slowly, his heart conflicted. There she was, sitting with a hopeful smile, the steam from the coffee curling into the air. His mind raced with thoughts, a storm of confusion swirling inside him. "What is she doing?" he wondered, eyeing her cautiously. "Is this another act?

What does she want now?"

Memories of all the times she had ignored him, belittled him, and chosen work over him flooded his mind, causing a dull ache in his chest. He wanted to believe this was real, that she was trying, but the scars from his past were too deep. He couldn’t trust her he wouldn’t.

"No need, Mother," Lucian said, his voice calm but cold. "I’m not in the mood for coffee today." He pivoted sharply, changing his direction toward the front door.

As he reached for the door handle, he heard Olivia’s voice tremble behind him, filled with desperation. "If you don’t want mine, go make yours… I won’t stop you, but please, don’t walk away."

Lucian stopped for a brief moment, his hand hovering over the door. His chest tightened, the sincerity in her voice causing a stir of emotion he quickly buried. "It’s better to keep my distance," he thought. "I can’t look at her, not when she acts like she cares. It’s too late for that."

Behind him, Olivia sat in silence, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the coffee cup. She could see the conflict in Lucian’s eyes, the way he stiffened at her words, the hesitation in his steps. It was like he didn’t know how to accept the small gesture, like every word she said only deepened the chasm between them.

Her heart ached with guilt, the weight of her past mistakes pressing heavily on her chest.

"What have I done?" Olivia thought to herself, tears threatening to fall as she watched her son pull away from her yet again. "I’ve pushed him so far away that even something as simple as a cup of coffee feels like too much."

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions, but the truth was inescapable she had failed him, time and time again. And now, when she was trying to rebuild what was broken, Lucian wouldn’t even give her a chance to try.

"I don’t blame him," she admitted silently. "I don’t deserve his forgiveness, but I need him to know that I’m trying… that I care, even if it’s too late."

"It’s better this way," he convinced himself, opening the door and stepping out into the fresh morning air. "The past is the past."

As the door closed behind him, Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. "He’s gone again," she whispered to herself, her hands tightening around the coffee cup she had made with so much care. She sat there, the silence of the house pressing down on her like a heavy weight.

"Stop, please… just hear me out, Lucian." Olivia’s voice trembled as she called after her son, her words barely above a whisper, but heavy with desperation. She watched him walk toward the door, his figure tense, as if he was running from something unseen. The pain in her chest intensified with each step he took further away from her, her heart sinking as he refused to acknowledge her plea.

Lucian heard his mother’s voice, soft and breaking, but he didn’t stop. His heart ached, his hands clenched into fists by his sides as he forced himself to keep walking. He hated ignoring her. It hurt to do this. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn around, to meet her gaze, to ask her what was wrong why her voice carried so much sadness, why her eyes were so weary. But he couldn’t.

He knew that if he turned, his heart would betray him. His love for her, the same love that had always gone unreciprocated, would come flooding back, and with it, the pain. Pain that he had learned to numb himself to.

It was safer to walk away.

"Are you going to college?" Olivia’s voice followed him, sounding quieter, more defeated. Lucian didn’t slow his pace, but the sound of her sadness made his heart twist. He wanted to turn back. He wanted to sit with her, to ask her what was wrong, why she suddenly cared now when she had been so indifferent for years.

But he knew better. He had learned the hard way that when you reach out for love and are met with emptiness, it scars you in ways you can’t easily heal from.

"I got a call from your sister," Olivia continued, her voice thick with something that sounded like hope, but also fear. "She said she’s coming tomorrow and was worried because you haven’t been picking up her calls. I told her you lost your phone. She seemed very concerned. Did something happen between you two?"

Lucian froze mid-step. He didn’t turn around, but her words hit him harder than he expected. His sister? Why was she coming now? As far as he remembered from his past life, she didn’t come home for another two years. She was studying abroad, busy with her own life, rarely calling home.

"Why is she coming now?" Lucian thought, the familiar tug of uncertainty creeping into his mind. "Has something changed? Did my regression alter the timeline or the plot of our lives?" He couldn’t be sure, and the thought unsettled him.

But whatever the reason, Lucian didn’t want to dwell on it. "It doesn’t matter," he told himself, shaking his head as if trying to clear the lingering doubts. "She’s not part of my life anymore... anyways."

He resumed his steps, his heart heavy but his resolve stronger. He needed to protect himself from the emotions that threatened to pull him back into the very cycle of pain he had spent a lifetime escaping.

Behind him, Olivia sat motionless, watching her son leave once again. Her heart shattered a little more with each second that passed. She could see the conflict in his posture, the way he hesitated for just a brief moment when she mentioned his sister. But it wasn’t enough to bring him back. Nothing seemed to be enough.

She cursed herself silently, knowing that this was her fault. She had pushed him away, ignored him for so long, that now, when she was finally trying to reach him, he no longer trusted her intentions. He no longer believed in her.

Her hands shook as she clasped them together in her lap. "What have I done?" she thought, tears stinging her eyes. "How did I let things get this bad?"

Lucian, with the door now in his hand, paused one last time, the pull to turn back almost too strong to resist. His heart was screaming at him to give her a chance, to listen, to understand. But he had been down this road before, and he had learned that love his love never seemed to be enough.

Without a word, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

Olivia watched the door shut, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She wanted to run after him, to stop him, to make him understand that she was trying. But she didn’t move. She just sat there, tears falling silently, knowing that she had already lost him long ago.

In the hallway, Lucian’s heart was heavy, the sadness from his mother’s words echoing in his mind. "I can’t go back," he whispered to himself, "I can’t let myself get hurt again."

And so, he kept walking, pushing down the emotions that threatened to resurface, trying to convince himself that this was for the best. "Let the past stay in the past."

The coffee grew cold, untouched.

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