Jordan reached the hallway just as his mother finished setting her bag down, the faint fatigue in her movements hard to miss.
"You're still up," she said, her voice softening with a trace of apology. "Sorry, we got back a bit late. How was your day?"
"Same as usual," Jordan replied as his gaze moved past her.
Lina stood a step behind, quiet and composed as always. The light above them illuminated her features, and for a moment, Jordan's attention lingered on her longer than he intended.
Her hair caught his eye first. It was a deep, natural shade of purple that looked neither dyed nor altered in any way. It flowed smoothly past her shoulders, framing her face and making the calm blue of her eyes stand out even more.
The resemblance to him was evident in those eyes. However, her hair set her apart, especially since no one in their family had that color. Not their mother, not their father. Yet, it suited her perfectly.
Lina noticed him staring.
Her brows drew together slightly, and she looked at him with quiet curiosity. "Is something wrong, brother?"
Jordan blinked, pulling himself back.
"Nothing," he said, then added with a small nod, "You're back."
Lina studied him for a brief moment, then gave a small, polite smile. "Mm. We're back."
There was a faint pause, as if she wanted to say something else, but she didn't. Instead, she inclined her head slightly toward him in a subtle gesture of acknowledgment before stepping past.
"I'll change first," she said softly as she moved down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
Jordan watched her disappear into the room before shifting his attention back to his mother.
She let out a quiet breath and bent slightly to adjust her shoes, the tiredness she had been holding back showing more clearly now.
"I had to pick her up from school," she explained. "Then her instructor invited us for dinner."
Jordan raised a brow. "Instructor?"
His mother straightened, and this time, the pride in her expression was unmistakable.
"She's been doing very well lately," she said. "Better than we expected. She's already reached the quasi-genetic warrior stage. And it's only been three months."
Jordan didn't respond right away.
He stood there, letting the words sink in.
Three months.
A faint breath slipped out before he could stop it.
"…Seriously?"
His mother nodded, clearly pleased. "If she keeps this pace, unlocking her first genetic chain before high school won't be an issue. Her instructors at Greenridge Junior Academy are already paying close attention to her."
Jordan gave a short, dry laugh.
"That's… impressive."
Impressive didn't come close.
He had spent a year and a half pushing himself through the same training, squeezing out what little progress he could. Yet the gap between them wasn't something effort alone could close.
Shaking his head, Jordan mumbled, "Sometimes I feel like the gap between people is wider than the gap between people and dogs."
His mother's expression immediately tightened.
"Jordan," she replied sharply, "you need to watch what you say."
Jordan raised his hands slightly, not wanting to argue, though a hint of humor lingered in his voice.
"I'm just saying, are we even related?"
That comment earned him a proper glare.
"If you put half the effort she does into your training, you wouldn't be so far behind."
The words landed cleanly.
Jordan didn't push back. He only nodded and let it go.
There was no point in explaining.
The previous Jordan had already tried. He followed the routines, attended every lesson, pushed himself as far as he could. The results just never came. Talent had drawn the line long before effort could make a difference.
But that was before.
Now, things were different.
For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted back to the system. To the silent space waiting for him.
He said nothing, but his expression steadied.
His mother seemed satisfied with his response and turned toward the kitchen. She had only taken a few steps before stopping, as if something had just come to mind.
"Oh, right," she said, glancing back at him. "There's something else."
Jordan looked up.
"A boy from a few blocks away. Mervin Webster." Her voice lowered slightly. "He was found dead this morning. In his bed."
Jordan's heartbeat faltered.
"…Dead?"
She nodded, her expression growing more serious. "The police are still investigating. They don't know what happened yet, but there's speculation he might've gotten involved with something he shouldn't have. Something from the darker side of the planet."
Her eyes narrowed as they settled on him.
"You stay away from that kind of trouble. Focus on your studies and your training. Don't get distracted."
Jordan met her eyes and nodded.
"I will."
His voice remained steady, but inside, his thoughts raced with urgency. The timing was too precise to overlook.
Just before dawn last night, everything changed. That was the moment he took control of this body. A chill ran down his spine as the reality hit him.
If he hadn't been reborn in this place, the news today would involve not just one boy, but two. One of them would undeniably be the original owner of this body.
Hmm… Two deaths. Same neighborhood. Same night.
Jordan let the thought settle instead of pushing it away.
He exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tightness building in his chest. It could still be a coincidence. People died every day for reasons that never made sense to those left behind.
But this… This felt too close.
Something about the timing refused to sit right with him. The more he turned it over, the more it felt like pieces of a pattern he couldn't yet see.
His gaze drifted toward the kitchen before he realized it.
He followed.
"Mom," he called, keeping his tone light as he leaned against the doorway. "That boy… Mervin. How old was he?"
His mother paused mid-motion and looked over her shoulder. A hint of surprise crossed her face.
"Why?" she asked.
Jordan shrugged, keeping his expression easy. "Just curious."
She held his gaze for a moment, then turned back to what she was doing.
"Seventeen. Maybe eighteen," she said. "Around your age."
The answer sank in deeper than he expected.
"Why are you asking?" she added, glancing at him again, this time more carefully.
Jordan pushed himself off the doorway.
"No reason," he said. "Thought I heard the name somewhere."
It wasn't convincing, but he didn't stay long enough for her to press.
By the time she resumed preparing the meal, he had already slipped away.
Back in his room, the door closed behind him with a soft click.
The quiet returned almost immediately.
Jordan moved to his desk and rested his gaze on the embedded panel. The moment his fingers made contact with the terminal, a ripple of light spread outward beneath his touch. A thin holographic layer rose into the air, forming a clean interface that hovered just above the desk.
Lines of data arranged themselves in silence.
He began searching.
He broadened the scope first, then narrowed it, shifting through keywords and categories as the results adjusted in real time. Reports of sudden deaths, unexplained cases, and late-night incidents involving young individuals. He filtered by location, then expanded beyond it, scanning for anything even remotely similar.
The results came back clean. Too clean, even by the strictest of standards.
Most entries were ordinary. Illnesses with documented causes. Accidents with clear timelines. Even the crime reports followed predictable patterns.
Nothing matched what he was looking for. There were no similarities and no strange overlaps.
Jordan leaned back slightly, his eyes fixed on the floating interface.
"…Is there really nothing? Am I just overthinking?"
If something like this had happened before, there should have been traces, whispers, or fragments. But there was nothing. Just a single incident that stood alone.
Or two, if he counted himself.
With a quiet motion, he dismissed the holographic display. The light folded in on itself and vanished, leaving the Desk Terminal as unremarkable as before.
Either this was the first time… Or whatever caused such deaths usually left no evidence behind.
Neither possibility was comforting.
The unease in Jordan's chest didn't fade. It became more pronounced instead.
He didn't know what had killed the original Jordan or what had happened to Mervin Webster. But if the two were connected, even in the smallest way, staying as he was would only lead to his death. He had to grow stronger and gain power as quickly as possible.
Just then, a soft knock broke the silence.
"Jordan, come eat something," his mother called.
He blinked, pulling himself back.
"Coming."
He stepped out a moment later, his expression already composed.
The kitchen felt warmer now. A simple late meal had been set out, and Lina was already seated, eating quietly. Her posture was straight, her movements controlled, as if even something as routine as a meal followed a disciplined rhythm.
"Sit," his mother said, placing a plate in front of him.
Jordan nodded and took his seat.
For a while, the room remained quiet, filled only with the faint clink of utensils and the low hum of the apartment systems.
Lina didn't speak much, though she gave him a small, polite nod when their eyes met. It was subtle, but respectful.
His mother eventually broke the silence.
"How are your preparations going?" she asked. "The Unified College Entrance Assessment is in thirty-four days."
Jordan swallowed before answering, "I'm doing what I can."
She studied him briefly, then gave a small nod. "Make sure that's enough."
"I will."
The conversation moved on after that, settling into light, familiar exchanges. Nothing heavy. Just enough to maintain the rhythm of a normal evening.
Jordan responded where needed, careful to keep everything steady.
When he finished, he set his utensils aside.
"Thanks for the food."
His mother nodded, satisfied.
He stood and stretched lightly. "I'll clean up and head to bed."
"Don't stay up too late."
"I won't."
After rinsing his plate, he made his way to the bathroom. The shower was quick, the cool water helping clear the last of the lingering tension. He brushed his teeth, dried off, and changed without delay.
By the time he returned to his room, the apartment had quieted down.
He closed the door and locked it.
A soft click echoed in the stillness.
Dressed for the night, he slipped into bed and pulled the covers over himself. His body relaxed, but his mind remained focused.
He closed his eyes.
Then, slowly, he concentrated on the mysterious space itself.
The fog. The silence. The setup waiting at the center.
He held that image steady, letting the intention take shape around it.
Return.
The thought settled fully, and for a brief instant, everything disappeared.
And then—
He opened his eyes again.
The fog stretched out endlessly around him, quiet and undisturbed. At its center, the familiar streaming setup stood exactly where he had left it.
Jordan stepped forward without hesitation.
As he approached, the main monitor flickered to life.
[Identity Confirmed: EchoZero]
[Re-entry Successful]
[Welcome back to the Signal Space]
The gears in Jordan's mind spun and settled into place.
"Signal Space…"
The name lingered in his mind as he looked around. So, this was what this space was called. It made sense as everything here revolved around connection, signals, and transmission across something far larger than he could currently comprehend.
He let out a slow breath and took his seat. The interface shifted, and the same prompts from before appeared on the screen.
[Stream Channel: Not Initialized]
[No Active Broadcast Detected]
[Initialize Channel and Begin Transmission?]