After the Sophomore Ball ended and my conversation with the Headmaster left me staring down the reality of my choices, I found myself thinking.
What did I really want?
This second chance at life—something that someone like me had been given.
Something I didn't deserve.
Survival wasn't enough. Strength wasn't enough.
I wanted to be happy.
I wanted to feel human.
Because in my last life, I had never been anything more than a tool—something people fought over, something meant to be used, sharpened, wielded. A genius whose value was determined by how many hands reached out to claim him.
But I was not a thing to be owned.
I was not a prize to be fought over.
I wanted to live.
To carve out a place in this world that was entirely my own.
Originality. The proof that I existed.
I needed that.
