Rofield, July 17th, 1944
Sidis walked through the city streets like he had so many times before. The late afternoon sun casting long shadows between the aging buildings, each one a silent monument to time's slow march. He passed the familiar riverside park, his steps steady but slow, eyes drifting over the shimmering water. The breeze was warm and soft, and the quiet hum of the city comforted him. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel at peace.
He thought about his life—not with regret, exactly, but with a kind of quiet resignation. He had once been called a genius, a prodigy, a boy destined to reshape the world. But somewhere along the way, the world lost interest… and so did he.
As a dull ache began to pulse behind his eyes, he turned back the route toward his small rented apartment. The pain worsened with every step, but he made it to his building, climbed the creaking stairs, and opened the door to his room.
The moment he stepped into the bedroom, the pain became unbearable.
His knees buckled. One hand reached out to steady himself against the dresser, but it slipped, and he collapsed onto the floor. His vision blurred, his breathing slowed. A sharp, burning pressure inside his skull told him what was happening.
A brain hemorrhage.
Lying on his side, he stared at the wooden floor. His limbs refused to move. The silence around him grew heavier, and the world began to fade.
"So this is how i will die...""I was the smartest person alive. A mind beyond anything anyone could measure, and yet...""I lived in remote. Mocked, misunderstood, choosing loneliness over a life of being a spectacle. Low paying jobs. No family. And no legacy to admire in my final moments."
He let out one final, shallow breath.
"But maybe... maybe at least I found peace."
And then, darkness.
...
"Sidis, don't fall asleep in the car!"
The words drifted into his half conscious mind, faint but familiar. Sidis stirred slightly as the car rolled to a stop, the gentle hum of the engine slowing down. His eyelids felt heavy, and for a moment, he gave in to the weight, letting them shut completely.
"You're going to be late for your enrollment day at Kronfeld Academy!"
The voice came again—clearer this time, with a mix of excitement and mild irritation. It belonged to his father, Boris Eisenwald. He had leaned over the front passenger seat of the elegant black automobile, reaching back to shake Sidis gently by the shoulder.
Sidis blinked slowly.
"...W-What?" he mumbled, rubbing one of his eyes sluggishly as he tried to process the situation. His thoughts were foggy, like he had just woken from a deep dream.
His vision was still blurry at first, but it gradually began to sharpen. The moment his eyes adjusted, he froze.
His father's face.
Dressed in his best formal coat, Boris looked exactly like he had in the old photographs—stern, proud, but undeniably caring. The sight of him struck Sidis like a jolt of electricity to the chest.
"Go on—get out of the car," Boris said more firmly now, gesturing toward the door with a huff. "How many more times do I have to say it?"
Sidis stared, his hand paused halfway through adjusting his tie. The weight of realization hadn't fully settled in yet, but the pieces were falling into place—fast.
He was here. He was 11 again. And this... this was the day he entered Kronfeld Academy.