Ten years had passed before his very own eyes. Now given a new name for his existence, Haruka had many questions in his mind. No amount of evidence nor findings were able to answer his unbearable questions. No claims were able to support his theory, but here he was. All flesh and bones, standing right in front of his reflection. Haruka squinted right at his own reflection. Golden blonde locks cascaded from his head down to the nape of his neck. Giant round violet orbs staring right back at him. He almost mistook his reflection to be sick due to the pale complexion Haruka snorted. It's been five years alread

Haruka woke up to the dimly lit room. The back of his head throbbed as the fragmented memories pounded his head repeatedly. Geez, whoever hit him must be a retarded goon. Not only his head hurts, but also a massive chunk on the back of his neck feels like a hot iron was pressed on it.He cracked open his eyes to scan his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the stone ground. He could feel the moisture penetrate into his kimono. Haruka couldn't hide his disgust as he scurried into a dryer corner. It's cold and wet; as far as he can recall, he hated wet surfaced. He would never leave a place undried, much less intentionally pouring liquid over the surface. Everything should be in perfect condition. Much of the reason for his hatred for wetness was caused by him spilling the tea onto his work surface. Which ruined most of his manuscripts. But none of these matter in this type of situation.Haruka took his chance to stand up, but the throbbing pain increased signif