Dragon's Awakening: The Duke's Son Is Changing The Plot-Chapter 52 - 51 - “Tell them how you feel.”

Raven saw darkness.

It was warm and soft like velvet, but he could see nothing.

’Is this some kind of blank dream?’ He thought before he shrugged.

’It will pass... eventually.’

For a while, silence remained before... There was light.

It flickered, not from the outside, but from within, as if his soul was trying to light a candle in a storm.

Somewhere deep inside that flickering light, a scene began to take shape.

A familiar park. A giant tree casting long shadows in the sunny afternoon, and under its shade—

"Hnnngh... stupid people...!"

A small boy was sobbing.

His fists were clenched tight, rubbing at his eyes, which wouldn’t stop spilling tears.

His black hair was messy, his face puffed red from frustration and hurt.

Raven—no, a much younger Raven, barely six years old, stood in front of him with arms crossed and an annoyed frown.

"Why are you crying?" Young Raven asked.

"They all hate me!" Young Alex sniffled. "They say I’m scary and too strong and I’m... I’m a bastard! They either run away or try to beat me up because they think I’m a freak!"

Young Raven groaned, scratching his head as if he’d heard this rant for the hundredth time. "Of course they do, idiot."

"Wha—"

"If you keep bawling your eyes out like a leaking teapot, they’ll think you’re weak. And if they think you’re weak and scary? That’s just asking to be punched!"

Alex blinked, sniffling harder.

Young Raven walked up and plopped beside him. "Tell you what. I’ll protect you."

"Really?"

"But in exchange..." Raven grinned. "Only I’m allowed to bully you. Got it? Anyone else touches you, they’ll be picking teeth off the moon."

"Huh?! That’s not fair!"

"Life’s not fair, moron," Raven said, puffing out his chest proudly. "But I’m the best unfair deal you’re gonna get."

Watching from the shadows of his own consciousness, the real Raven chuckled.

’I really said that, huh...’

But the warm nostalgia snapped cold as he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around, only to see Alex.

Not the younger one; the present one.

Bruised, bloodied, and silent.

Raven’s breath paused. ’This wasn’t in the memory.’

He couldn’t understand what was happening.

Alex looked at him, hollow-eyed. "Didn’t you say you’d protect me?"

Raven’s mouth parted, but no words came.

Alex’s expression twisted, not with anger, but with sorrow. "Why am I like this, then? Am I even alive? Or was I just a stepping stone in your story?"

"Alex—" Raven tried to speak, but Alex cut him off.

"Was I expendable, Raven?"

The world blurred before Raven could even understand what was happening.

The sun vanished. The tree dissolved into ash.

All of that was followed by a void, and in it, another room began to take form.

It was dimly lit—a playroom. There were wooden toys scattered on mats.

Laughter echoed faintly in the halls beyond.

But one boy sat quietly in the corner, tucked near a dusty bookshelf.

Jake.

Much younger. Staring at nothing, his face emotionless.

Children passed by, whispering.

"Creepy bastard."

"Why’s he always there?"

"He never talks."

As if they didn’t realize he could hear them. As if he weren’t there.

Then—

A younger Raven walked in, dragging Alex by the wrist like a shopping bag.

He stopped in front of Jake.

"Wanna be friends?" He asked, blunt and sudden.

Jake blinked, startled.

His head turned slightly, unsure whether the voice was directed at him.

But as Raven waited, Jake realized the question was for him and gave a small, hesitant, almost invisible nod.

He didn’t smile. But the real Raven, watching from a distance, knew the truth.

The twitch in Jake’s lips was louder than any cheer.

And then—

"You said we were friends, didn’t you?"

The voice came from behind.

Raven turned.

It was Jake.

Older now, but as quiet and haunted as he was before.

Standing beside him was Alex, who looked the same as before—bloodied, tired, and broken.

Raven froze again before he recalled something.

’Ah... fuck.’

He had overused the soul power, and once someone does that, they experience mental attacks from the soul.

"Backlash," he muttered to himself. "The damn soul backlash..."

He knew about it because the original Raven in the story had also experienced it.

He opened his mouth to reply, "Of course we’re friends," but before he could say a word—

"Is that all I am to you?"

Another voice came.

It was Clara.

Her present self. Beautiful, strong, and unblinking.

She was standing right before him.

"Just a friend?" She asked again, softly this time.

Raven’s lips parted to reply, but Clara didn’t give him time to speak.

But her face shifted. Her voice sharpened.

"Why aren’t you replying? Am I just someone you want to be with to earn plot points?"

Raven blinked.

"Am I even real to you?" She asked, eyes trembling now. "Do you see me? Do you even love me? Or am I just a tool to help you make the story better?"

’Now this is going too far...’

Raven gritted his teeth.

Even if it was a backlash, this was still hard for him to digest.

Yes, he was like that before.

At first, he wanted to make the plot better, and he did everything for that, but not anymore.

In this life, no matter how hard it was, he found people who cared for him, changing his view of the world.

It wasn’t a novel; it was his world.

He belonged here now.

He felt more original here than he ever did in his past life.

But before he could answer, Jake and Alex appeared behind her, their faces grave.

"Tell us," they said, in haunting unison.

Raven stared at them.

His mouth moved. But nothing came out.

The weight of their stares pressed into his soul. But even with all their questions, the growing storm of emotion...

He let out a long and tired sigh.

’Whatever...’

His feelings didn’t change, but he knew that no matter what he said, his soul would find some way to counterattack.

He just had to wait for the backlash to pass.

He looked to the side and muttered, "I’m sighing like an old man."

"Good! You’re finally understanding the joy of old age!" Said a jolly, annoying voice.

Raven flinched. "Oh no."

He turned.

Crisaius stood beside him with the disciplinary rod slung over his shoulder, grinning like a fox who just crashed a funeral for the snacks.

"Not you too, old man—"

WHACK!

A crisp slap landed on the back of his head.

"Say ’Master old man,’ brat!"

Raven staggered, a sigh of relief inadvertently leaving his lips. "You haven’t changed at all."

"I can’t!" Crisaius said proudly. "In your messed-up mind, I’m already the worst possible version of myself. No backlash hallucination can beat me at my own game!"

Raven blinked. He almost smiled. "...That’s fair."

"Now wake up," Crisaius said.

"I would if I could! I’m stuck."

"Then tell them," the old man said, pointing to Clara, Jake, and Alex. "Tell them how you feel."

Raven looked at the three figures before him.

For the first time, he realized that he had never told them how he felt about them.

Yes, he was sure they knew, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t tell them.

He sighed again.

But then he frowned, realizing he was sighing like an old man again.

"Dammit, Old Man. Your personality’s growing on me," he muttered before stepping forward.

Then, he reached out, arms wide.

He pulled Clara, Jake, and Alex close.

They didn’t resist as he held them.

"I do care," he whispered. "I really, really care."

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Smiles lit their faces—soft, sincere, and full of relief.

Then—

Light.

Bright and blinding.

It consumed everything.

Raven squinted, trying to shield his eyes.

The warmth of the embrace vanished.

The world around him unraveled like paper in fire.

And when the light finally dimmed—

He blinked.

A white ceiling stared back at him.

He was lying on a bed.

A soft beep echoed from a corner of the room.

Somewhere nearby, hushed voices whispered, and steps padded across marble floors.

He wasn’t on the battlefield anymore.

He was in a recovery room.

Alive.

Safe... for now.

Raven exhaled.

"...I really do hate dreams," he muttered.

"...Were you hugging me in your dream or what?"

Raven’s eyes cracked open fully.

His head turned slowly—too slowly for his liking—and there, lounging like a smug little bandaged burrito on the hospital bed next to him, was Alex.

The guy looked like he’d just returned from a luxury vacation rather than surviving a near-death fight.

His hair was brushed, his wounds neatly bandaged, and he had the gall to smirk.

Raven stared at him, deadpan. "...What?"

"You heard me," Alex said, grinning like a troll who’d just found a new bridge to live under. "You were muttering in your sleep. All sappy and stuff. ’I care,’ ’I really, really care’—were you hugging me in there?"

Raven’s expression didn’t change, but internally—

’I was muttering?’

His mind flicked back to the dream.

To that moment when he embraced Alex, Jake, and Clara.

’Well, Clara was fine...’ He thought before Alex’s face flashed again.

’Fuck...’

He had hugged the guy and told him that he cared about him.

He physically recoiled at the memory.

’I hugged that dumbass...’

His face twitched.

"...Fuck no," Raven muttered.

"Huh?" Alex blinked.

"Like hell I would hug you." Raven looked genuinely offended now. "You? That? I’d rather leap into a meat grinder headfirst while reciting poetry."

Alex sat up a little straighter. "Wait... wait. Why do you seem so offended about a joke? Did you actually—?"

"Shut up," Raven growled, turning to the side like a cat rejecting a kiss. "Shut up right now, you dumb bastard."

"I KNEW IT!" Alex looked betrayed and also mildly delighted. "You hugged me! You dream-hugged me!"

"I will smother you with your pillow."

"Emotionally or physically?"

"Both."

A long sigh broke the chaos like a referee’s whistle.

Raven turned his head the other way and found Jake lying on another bed beside him, arms crossed, a stoic look on his face.

However, Raven could somehow see amusement hidden in his eyes.

For now, he ignored that as the rest of the room came into focus.

Everyone, including Clara, Jessy, Rufus, and their subordinates, who were knocked out before the gate of Gerax’s mansion, was here.

They were all lying on their beds, some snoring while others were trying to recover.

Raven blinked.

’Everyone’s safe...’

His muscles finally relaxed. He let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

No one had died.

No major injuries, aside from his ego, and maybe some permanent mental trauma from the soul backlash, but hey. That was normal these days.

He leaned back into the bed and muttered, "Thank fuck... It’s over."

Of course, he had to red-flag the moment.

’Ah, shit...’

He realized it, but it was too late—

—The room’s door creaked open.

A man stepped in, dressed sharply in a black butler uniform that was so crisp it probably ironed itself out of sheer pride.

He had white gloves, silver hair tied back neatly, and the soul-sucking aura of someone who’d seen far too many family secrets and kept all of them in alphabetical order.

He stopped at the foot of Raven’s bed.

"Young Master Raven," he said with a small bow. "The Patriarch has summoned you."

Raven stared at him for a full two seconds.

Then he sighed. Again.

’Fuck my thoughts.’