After the awakening ceremony and the registration process, Norman didn't linger like the others. While most students buzzed with excitement—flashing their new ID cards stamped with their talent grades and "Mana Apprentice" titles—Norman quietly packed his things and prepared to go home.
But peace was not in his destiny today.
"Well, well, look who it is—Mr. Special F Talent," sneered Rex, the notorious school bully. He sauntered up to Norman with his usual posse trailing behind him like hyenas. "I gotta say, your talent is something special. One in a million, they say. No one ever thought anyone would actually get F level. Guess you made history!"
Laughter erupted from Rex's group. It echoed cruelly through the school corridor, now half-empty after the morning's activities.
Rex, ironically, had only awakened a D-level talent. But in a world where your future was shaped by the raw potential of your mana, even a D-grade gave him someone to look down on. And Norman, the lone F, was the perfect punching bag.
"Are you done?" Norman replied, his voice calm but laced with sarcasm. "You're right. F-level is one in a million. Guess that makes me rarer than you. Better than being average trash."
Rex's smile vanished. "You bastard! Don't act like you're above me!"
Rex, already fuming from his own disappointment, lost control. With a snarl, he lunged forward and drove his fist into Norman's stomach. Norman doubled over, gasping.
"Not so tough now, huh? Consider that your punishment for having an attitude," Rex spat before walking off with his laughing entourage.
Norman winced and clutched his abdomen, still catching his breath. So much for a quiet high school life, he thought bitterly. I didn't come back just to be a punching bag again…
"You're an idiot," a soft but firm voice said.
Norman looked up to see Ellie approaching, arms crossed, her brow furrowed in disapproval.
"You provoked him. He's not in his right mind right now. You basically asked for that punch."
"There wasn't anything I could do," Norman replied with a sigh. "I'm just a poor F-level nobody, remember?"
"That's exactly why you pissed him off. Someone like you should be devastated right now, crying in a corner. But instead, you're acting like it doesn't bother you. That kind of attitude only makes people like Rex feel smaller."
Norman gave a weak chuckle. "I already prepared myself for the worst outcome. Disappointment came and went. Now all that's left is acceptance."
Ellie looked at him for a moment, searching his eyes. "Well… good luck with your future, Norman. I mean that."
She turned to leave. Watching her walk away stirred a strange feeling in Norman's chest.
Ellie… In his past life, she had been one of the few who reached out to him after his accident. Even when he shut himself off, ignoring messages, avoiding contact, she still messaged him—at least for the first couple of years. Eventually, she stopped, worn down by his silence.
Back then, Norman had been cheerful and full of life. Ellie had been his closest friend. Sometimes, he even suspected she had feelings for him. But love had no place in his heart after the divorce. His father's abandonment had left scars that never healed, and over time, Norman built walls so high that no one could climb them. The accident only reinforced those walls.
Sigh. Maybe it's time to live differently now, he thought. Maybe it's time to become a little warmer… and maybe, just maybe, find love again. I deserve that much, don't I?
His past self had believed he wasn't worthy of affection. His father's rejection had molded him into someone aloof and distant. And his mother, though kind, had buried herself in work to cope with her own pain. She never realized how deeply it affected him. And now, with a second chance at life, Norman knew he couldn't blame others forever.
That night, Norman returned home, sore and bruised. His mother wasn't back yet—still at the hospital, as usual. As he lay on his bed, lost in thought, his phone buzzed.
The caller ID made his heart skip a beat.
Dad
Norman stared at the screen. In his previous life, his father had never called. It had always been one-sided. Norman called to check in, only when his mother insisted. And even then, the man on the other end was cold and distant.
Slowly, he answered.
"…Hello?"
"I'm waiting at X Café near your house. Come now." The voice was curt, commanding.
Norman hesitated. "Okay… I'll be there."
A few minutes later, he arrived at the café. Through the glass window, he saw a man sitting alone with a coffee in front of him—Thomas, his father. A successful man, a peak Tier 5 Mana Champion with a B-level talent, Thomas worked in beast management for a private company. He had climbed the ranks quickly—thanks in part to the daughter of the company's director, whom he eventually married.
Wealth, power, influence… and abandonment. He chose all of it over his family.
Norman stepped inside.
"I heard you got an F. Typical," Thomas said as soon as Norman sat down. "Let me guess. Your talent's some watered-down version of your mother's healing ability. Trash runs in the blood."
Norman stayed silent.
"I don't even need to hear the details. F is F. No future, no prospects. And since you're no longer useful to me, let's get this over with."
Thomas pulled out a small pouch and slid it across the table.
Inside were mana crystals—currency for mana users.
"Take that. Don't call me again. The lady at home doesn't like me having anything to do with you. Frankly, I don't either."
Thomas stood up, drained the last of his coffee, and left without another word.
Norman sat frozen in place, the envelope untouched.
No goodbyes. No words of encouragement. Just a silent transaction, as if Norman was a burden to be paid off.
His fists clenched. You didn't even ask how I was doing…
He took a long breath. The rejection still hurt, even now. But this time, Norman wasn't going to spiral. This time, he had something else.
He glanced at the invisible panel only he could see—his true gift, unknown to anyone.
[Equal Exchange System: Active]
Welcome, User. Everything has a value. Anything can be exchanged.
Norman's lips curled into a faint smile.
F-level talent? Maybe. But this time, I make the rules.
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