Sei woke before dawn with his hands clenched.

  Not in pain.

  Just… stuck.

  He stared at them for a moment, still half-asleep, before muttering, “That’s new,” to the empty room. It took effort—more than it should have—to pry his fingers apart. Tendons resisted like they were arguing with him. When they finally loosened, the sensation didn’t disappear. It lingered. A dull delay running from his palms up into his forearms.

  Like bad reception.

  He rotated his wrists slowly. “Fantastic,” he whispered. “Hands buffering now.”

  They looked fine.

  That bothered him more than if they hadn’t.

  The guild hall was already alive when he arrived.

  Morning light spilled through the high windows, catching dust and smoke in its path. The place smelled like wood, iron, sweat, and something bitter brewing in a corner. Familiar. Comforting.

  Usually.

  Conversation didn’t stop when he entered.

  It tilted.

  Laughter continued, just a fraction softer. Someone glanced his way and then suddenly found their mug fascinating. Two adventurers leaned closer together, voices dropping to that almost-whisper that wasn’t meant to hide—just to signal.

  Sei rolled his shoulders and kept walking.

  “Relax,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re not contagious. Probably.”

  At the mission board, he scanned postings. Escorts. Clear-outs. Repair assistance. Nothing urgent. Nothing screaming disaster.

  “Hey. You.”

  He turned.

  A broad-shouldered adventurer with a scar along his jaw nodded toward a listing. Casual posture. Easy confidence.

  “You’ll be on cleanup today, right?” the man said. “You’re good at… finishing things.”

  The word settled between them.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Finishing.

  Sei blinked once, then smiled—quick, crooked, automatic. “I mean, if by ‘finishing’ you mean ‘tripping over rubble and hoping no one notices,’ then yeah. That’s me.”

  The man chuckled, already turning away. “Right. Sure.”

  No accusation.

  No hostility.

  Just expectation, planted and left to grow.

  Sei stared at the board a moment longer than necessary before stepping away.

  Eva was waiting near the back, arms crossed, eyes already on him.

  “You’re late,” she said.

  Sei flexed his fingers unconsciously. “In my defense, time started it.”

  “You’re compensating,” Eva replied. “You only do that when something’s wrong.”

  He stopped flexing.

  “I’m fine,” he said lightly. “Probably slept funny. Or breathed wrong. Happens.”

  Eva didn’t argue.

  “That wasn’t an answer,” she said. “But we’ll see.”

  The mission was supposed to be simple.

  An old quarry. Partial collapse. A few feral creatures drawn by blood and noise. Clear it before scavengers—or worse—showed up.

  Four-person team. Controlled terrain.

  Manageable.

  At first, it was.

  Sei stayed back, staff in hand, positioning himself where he could see everyone. When one of the frontliners took a shallow cut along the thigh, Sei moved instinctively, dropping to one knee—

  —and froze.

  Something pulled.

  Not outward.

  Inward.

  A phantom warmth curled beneath his skin, familiar now in the way a bad habit becomes familiar. His fingers twitched, wanting to shape something sharper. Cleaner.

  Greener.

  “Nope,” he whispered, forcing his hand away. “Not today.”

  The resistance was immediate.

  Pressure slammed into his wrist, deep and internal, like forcing a joint past its limit. His vision tunneled for a heartbeat, the world narrowing until all he could hear was his own pulse.

  “Sei?” someone shouted.

  “I’m good,” he said too quickly, already wrapping a bandage with hands that didn’t quite feel like his. “Just—uh—manual mode. Old-school.”

  The creature lunged moments later.

  Sei reacted—

  Late.

  His staff came up a fraction slower than it should have. The impact rattled his arms, numbness buzzing through his fingers like static.

  “Seriously?” he hissed under his breath. “Now you decide to lag?”

  They won.

  Barely.

  By the time the last body hit the stone, Sei was shaking.

  Not enough for anyone to comment.

  Enough that Eva noticed.

  The walk back was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Halfway to the gates, Eva stopped. Sei almost ran into her.

  “Careful,” he said automatically. “I bruise easily. Emotionally.”

  “You hesitated,” Eva said.

  “I exercised restraint.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “And it nearly got someone killed.”

  That wiped the humor clean.

  Sei swallowed. “I don’t want to rely on it.”

  Eva turned to face him fully.

  “You think reliance is the danger,” she said. “What I saw wasn’t discipline.”

  She held his gaze.

  “It was degradation.”

  He laughed once—sharp, reflexive. “Wow. You don’t ease into criticism, do you?”

  “You’re not joking,” Eva said. “You’re deflecting.”

  Silence settled between them.

  “You’re a doctor,” she continued. “You know what happens when pressure builds with nowhere to go.”

  Sei looked down at his hands.

  “…Something ruptures,” he said quietly.

  Eva nodded. Then turned and walked on.

  That night, the numbness didn’t fade.

  It settled.

  As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Sei flexed his fingers slowly.

  “They’re still mine,” he whispered. “Right?”

  They moved.

  Obeyed.

  But the delay was there.

  Holding back wasn’t neutrality.

  It was pressure.

  And pressure, left long enough, always broke something.

  He just didn’t know yet what it would be.