The world outside hadn't yet decided whether to be warm or cold. Morning light filtered through the curtains in thin bands, casting faint golden bars across Adrian's bedroom floor. A subtle breeze slipped through the cracked window. The city, though never silent, was softer on Saturdays no morning alarms, no rush of feet down hospital halls.
Adrian was already awake.
He had risen before the sun, his mind alert, body still. He sat at the edge of his bed for a moment, staring at the faint lines on his palm. Then he stood, crossed the room, and stopped in front of the full-length mirror mounted near the closet.
His reflection stared back disheveled, pale, and eerily sharp. Long black hair fell just past his collarbones. His face was striking but subdued beneath the overgrowth of hair. The clothes hung off him without intent: a loose dark shirt with a stretched neckline and faded jeans two sizes too thin.
He exhaled through his nose.
He murmured. "Dull. Forgotten. Half-alive."
He narrowed his eyes slightly, lifting a hand to sweep his hair back. Beneath it, his cheekbones were high, his jaw sharp, his gaze naturally intense.
"If you have the same face as me," Adrian muttered, "then at least use it properly."
A faint smirk tugged at one side of his lips.
"Back in my world, I was asked to model for magazines all the time. My Extragram account had over a million followers. I didn't even like the camera. I just needed the money to open my own clinic. You know how expensive independence is?"
He ran a hand through his hair once more, then reached for a comb.
The old Adrian had let everything slide hair, posture, wardrobe. He'd become invisible. But invisibility didn't suit him. Not anymore. He wasn't going to hide in this world, not beneath gloom and neglect.
He got dressed in silence black slacks, a plain dark tee, and a long overcoat. Not flashy. Just clean. A placeholder until they bought something better.
Downstairs, the scent of rice and pickled plum drifted faintly from the kitchen. Someone had left breakfast out on the counter. He noted it, stored the gesture away in the back of his mind.
He stepped outside.
The curb was quiet, the pavement damp from a brief pre-dawn drizzle. He pulled out a cigarette from his coat pocket, slid it between his lips, and lit it. The ember flared softly, casting a brief glow against his cheek. Smoke curled upward, lazy and weightless.
He leaned slightly against the gate and watched the street wake up.
The first footstep came lightly behind him.
"You should have stopped smoking. You've been smoking since university. It's a cancer stick."
Tessa's voice. Firm as always, with that trace of tired older sister judgment tucked into the tone. Adrian turned his head just enough to catch her in his periphery.
She stepped out beside him, tugging on a clean navy blazer over a striped crop top and high-waisted jeans. Her hair was curled, her makeup sharp, and her expression sharper.
He took another drag. "It calms me down."
"You know that's not an excuse," she said, arms folded.
He exhaled upward. "And cigarettes these days don't smell half as bad. They've been engineered so the smoke doesn't stick to your clothes."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not comforting."
A second voice joined them younger, lighter.
"Seriously?" Lira's footsteps hit the pavement behind them. "You're still smoking? Gross."
She appeared in a pale denim skirt, soft cardigan, and white sneakers, her hair pulled up in a half-bun. A small designer bag swung from her shoulder. She looked like someone ready for brunch photos and aesthetic coffee shots.
"You've had almost perfect life" Lira added, stepping to his other side. "Maybe don't waste it coughing up tar."
Adrian took a final drag, then stubbed the cigarette against the ashtray nailed to the side of the gate. He gave them both a dry glance.
"Is this going to be the entire ride?" he asked.
"Only if you keep lighting up," Tessa said.
Lira held up her phone. "I already have the group ride-share queued."
"I figured we could hit the market street near Central Mall," Tessa added. "There's a couple of good boutiques. Real adult clothes. Not that charity-bin stuff you've been wearing."
"Your hair, too," Lira said, narrowing her eyes at him. "We're fixing that."
Adrian nodded once. "Good. I planned on it."
Tessa paused, surprised. "Really?"
Adrian shrugged. "I did promise."
He followed them toward the curb, watching the way they interacted, the way Lira looped her arm through Tessa's, the way Tessa rolled her eyes but didn't let go. Family rituals. Familiar weight. It was peaceful an oddly human morning.
And Adrian? He felt no discomfort in it. If anything, he welcomed it.
They stood waiting by the curb as the car pulled up a sleek black sedan, its windows tinted.
Lira slid into the back seat, Tessa followed, and Adrian closed the door behind them.
As the vehicle pulled into traffic, Tessa turned toward him, eyebrows raised.
"Alright, Doctor Vale," she said, smirking. "Let's see if we can make you look like someone who doesn't sleep in hospital closets."
Adrian smiled faintly and leaned back into the seat, gaze turned toward the passing skyline.
"Lead the way."
The cab slid through the early weekend traffic like a scalpel through cloth smooth, fast, efficient. Outside the tinted windows, Eltherion's streets moved at their usual pace: coffee lines, children in bright uniforms, early joggers pounding pavement while vendors unlatched stall doors.
Inside the cab, silence reigned for a while. Tessa scrolled through clothing recommendations, flipping past each option with growing irritation. Lira sat with her arms still crossed, casting side glances at Adrian like she couldn't quite believe he was real.
Adrian, meanwhile, reclined slightly. Relaxed. Composed.
It wasn't an act. Not anymore.
He was ready to look like himself again.
Their first stop was a clean, high-end boutique tucked inside one of the city's fashion corridors glass walls, monochrome signage, and staff that glided rather than walked.
The moment they stepped inside, the air changed.
Scented. Air-conditioned. Gentle music playing the kind that never resolved, like it was too elegant for conclusions.
"Welcome," said the stylist at the entrance, a sharp-dressed woman with silver nails and sharper eyes. "Shopping for yourself today?"
Adrian opened his mouth, but Tessa cut in.
"Yes. He's a total wreck and we're fixing him."
Lira added, "Think of it as an emergency makeover."
The stylist didn't miss a beat. "Right this way."
Adrian was guided to a private fitting area. The two sisters followed, arms already full of blazers, boots, coats, and at least five different cuts of pants.
Within fifteen minutes, Adrian had cycled through twelve outfits.
By the eighteenth, he stopped resisting.
The old clothes were gone, folded neatly into a "donate" bag. The new ones slim cut, black and navy palettes, clean lines felt familiar. He looked at himself in the mirror again.
The change was startling.
His hair still hung long and tied back, but the contrast against the fitted shirt and dark slacks made it seem intentional. Stylish. Sharp. The weight of his Realizer body made the clothes fit better than they had any right to.
Tessa stepped back and crossed her arms. "You look like someone who charges ten grand to speak at a university."
Lira just stared. "Why did we let you dress like a ghost all this time?"
Adrian adjusted the sleeve of his blazer and gave a small smile. "Because none of you were brave enough to stop me."
"Fair point," Tessa muttered. "Alright. Hair time."
They checked out Tessa paying with the family card, Lira stuffing the bags into the cab's trunk and headed toward the salon a block down.
This one was quieter, smaller, but no less stylish.
A large mirror ran across the wall, and a chandelier of hanging crystal threads shimmered in the center of the ceiling. The receptionist greeted them with a respectful nod.
"We have a reservation under Vale," Tessa said. "Cut for one. Perm for one."
Adrian was led to a seat near the back, while Lira was settled beside him. The stylist approached a middle-aged woman with confident eyes and a calm energy.
"Long to short?" she asked, fingers running through Adrian's tied-back hair.
He nodded. "Clean. Structured. Keep the face open."
"You got it."
Snip by snip, the dead weight fell away. Hair slid down his shoulders like rainwater from stone. Inch by inch, his reflection changed.
With each pass of the scissors, something emerged. Something more composed. Sleek. Sharp. Like the man he used to be or perhaps something more refined than that.
When it was done, the stylist stepped back.
"There," she said. "How does it feel?"
Adrian opened his eyes and looked.
The face in the mirror wasn't just familiar. It was dangerous.
His hair was styled back now not harshly, but neatly. It framed his cheekbones and jawline like a museum display. The sharpness of his gaze stood out more. Every line of his face felt carved, intentional. Even his expression, neutral as it was, exuded presence.
He looked like himself again.
Maybe better.
Tessa stopped mid-scroll. "Holy…"
Lira didn't say anything. She was staring. Mouth parted. Blinking rapidly.
Adrian turned to her. "You look cute. That perm suits you."
She didn't respond.
Still staring.
The stylist next to Lira whispered, "She hasn't blinked in thirty seconds."
Tessa reached over and tapped her younger sister's forehead. "Lira. Say something before your brain bluescreens."
Lira finally exhaled. "Who are you and what did you do with my brother?"
Adrian smirked. "It's more fun to be handsome, isn't it?"
He stood and pulled his blazer back on, admiring the look once more. Sleek. Formal. Easy to move in. The exact balance of confidence and calculation.
They paid, tipped generously, and stepped back onto the sidewalk.
The bags were heavy in Lira's hands, but she didn't complain. She was still too busy trying to process her brother's transformation.
"I feel like you're going to get recruited by a fashion agency in the parking lot," she said quietly.
"Let them try," Adrian said.
The city shimmered around them. They didn't need to say anything else. It was a new look. A new shape.
But what mattered most wasn't the clothes.
It was the mirror.
For the first time since returning, Adrian had seen himself again.
And the person staring back didn't look lost.