"Young master," she said softly, her voice like a breeze through silk curtains. "Your breakfast is ready."
Taryn sat up slowly. "Thanks, Lila," he said with a faint smile.
She placed the tray on the table beside his bed and pulled back the cloth. Beneath it was a small bowl of congee—rich with herbs and dotted with pieces of something that smelled savory and unfamiliar. Beside it sat a small plate of fruits he didn't recognize and a mild, tea-like drink giving off a subtle herbal aroma.
He blinked. "This… this is different."
"It's a gentle energy-recovery meal," she said with a note of pride. "Cook made it himself after hearing you finally woke up. Good for restoring the body."
Taryn picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the congee curiously. It was smooth, fragrant, nothing like the plain oats or quick toast he used to make back on Earth. Hesitantly, he took a bite.
His eyes widened.
It was soft but rich, each spoonful releasing a deep umami flavor that spread like warmth in his chest. The herbs blended perfectly with the slight sweetness, and every bite seemed to go down smoother than the last. He didn't even realize how quickly he was eating until he reached the bottom of the bowl.
"Whoa," he muttered. "That was… incredible."
Lila gave a short, quiet laugh and gently placed a cloth beside him. "I'm glad you like it, young master."
Seeing him eat so enthusiastically, her face softened, and she let out a small sigh of relief. "It's been a long time since you've eaten with such appetite. They'll be so happy to see you like this…"
Taryn paused, looking up from the tray. "They?"
"Your parents," she said gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "They're returning home today. Should arrive within the hour."
Taryn's hand stilled.
"My parents," he murmured, the words foreign and yet somehow… deeply familiar.
Mother. Father.
And then the memories came—slow and disjointed at first, like trying to remember a dream. Faces. Voices. Warmth. His mother, sitting by his bedside late at night, wiping sweat from his brow when he was feverish. His father, stern but always present, carrying him in his arms when he was too weak to walk. The scent of their clothes, the way their voices softened when they spoke to him.
It wasn't like the distant recollection of characters from a novel. It was something heavier—rooted in the soul. These people loved him. Deeply. Fiercely.
"They've been worried," Lila continued, not noticing the shift in his expression. "But I'm sure they'll be relieved to see you awake and… eating so well."
Taryn smiled faintly. His heart ached in a way it hadn't in years.
"Maybe I'll be the happier one," he said quietly.
Lila looked at him, puzzled for a second—but then gave a small nod, as if understanding something unspoken.
"I'll go inform the housekeeper," she said softly, taking the tray. "You should freshen up, young master. They'll want to see you at your best."
As she left the room, Taryn leaned back against the cushions, a strange tightness in his chest. Not fear. Not sorrow.
Something else.
He was no longer alone.
And in just an hour… he'd see them.
His new parents.
And perhaps, just maybe, this second life wouldn't be a curse—but a chance.