I Don't Need To Log Out

The old man didn't keep Asef with chains, spells, or threats.

He kept him with something much stronger.

Hospitality.

And strangely, Asef didn't want to leave.

Not because he had changed. Not really.

It still didn't matter to him whether he was under a roof or under the stars. A warm bed or a cold patch of dirt—both felt the same.

But something had shifted.

He couldn't say what it was.

Maybe it was just instinct, the base survival sense whispering that this place was safe. That he could live here. Rest here. Eat, sleep, breathe—without pain.

He didn't know.

But he stayed.

And after a few days, something else changed.

For some reason, Asef could talk.

Not perfectly. Not fluently. His voice was still rough, like a blade that hadn't seen a whetstone in years.

But he didn't.

He just thanked the old man.

Every time he ate, every time he woke up and saw Hon, the old man, already sitting there, waiting quietly.

Just those two words. But they were enough.

Hon never made a fuss. Never asked why Asef hadn't spoken before. He only nodded, as if that was all the answer he needed.

And then, one morning, Hon gave him a task.

"You should clean yourself up."

No explanation. No reasoning.

But Asef didn't need one.

He obeyed.

He knew that whenever he did something Hon told him to, he felt something.

He shaved. Trimmed his wild hair. Washed the layers of dust from his skin.

And when he finished, he saw himself in the mirror.

He stared.

The face that looked back wasn't the one he remembered from his youth.

It was older. Harder.

But still unmistakably his.

Only... it wasn't just his.

It was also his brother's.

An older version of the same features that were plastered across military broadcasts, statues, and posters. The hero of their people.

Asef turned away from the mirror.

The image stuck in his mind like a splinter.

But even that strange, painful familiarity was something. A feeling. A reaction. And that meant something inside him was still alive.

Of course, that wasn't the only feeling he had. There was another feeling called fear.

He was just hoping that Hon didn't realise the similarity between him and Asef.

And he didn't.

At least, he didn't say anything even if he did realize.

Instead, he invited Asef to sit.

"I need to talk to you," he said gently.

Asef sat down, silent as ever.

Hon folded his hands atop his cane. "This is all I can offer you. If you want to stay like this—quiet, wandering, doing nothing—you can. I'll let you keep staying here. I'll feed you. Even after I'm gone, you can stay here."

Asef blinked slowly. This wasn't the conversation he expected.

"But," Hon added, "is this really the life you want? Are you content just... existing? Or do you want me to help you?"

For a long moment, there was no reply.

Then Asef's voice, raspier than before but clear, broke the silence.

"With what?"

"With change," Hon said. "With purpose."

He paused.

"I'm looking for someone to pass my magic knowledge to. Someone to teach before I leave this world. Do you want to be my disciple?"

Asef froze.

The word didn't make sense. Disciple? That was something people with goals accepted. People with dreams.

He had neither.

But Hon's expression didn't waver.

Again, he always wanted to see magic when he was a kid, and lost those emotions long ago.

Asef looked down at his hands, as if they could answer the question for him.

"Can I use magic?" he finally asked.

Hon smiled a little. "You can't."

Asef's heart sank slightly.

Of course not.

"But," Hon continued, "that's not quite the truth either. You don't have magic vessels. That makes learning normal casting nearly impossible.

It would take decades, maybe more, to teach you to cast without magic vessels."

A pause.

"But there's another way."

And just like that, Asef felt something he hadn't felt in years.

Hope.

Not the wild, youthful kind.

Not the kind that dreamed of flying or changing the world.

But a quieter kind. A flicker in the darkness. The sort of hope that came when someone lit a candle in a long-forgotten room.

Hon leaned forward.

"You know there's something inside you, don't you?"

Asef nodded slowly, he didn't want to talk about that really.

"I've seen it," Hon said. "Felt it. Whatever it is—it's powerful. And dangerous. But it's dormant. Suppressed."

Asef's eyes narrowed slightly.

"You're lucky," Hon said. "Most people with something like that inside them lose themselves. But you... you were too numb to feel anything.

You never let your emotions out. That's why it didn't awaken fully.

That thing is not dangerous if you can control it. No, it is better to say if you can suppress it. And it can use magic."

Asef looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Well, the thing inside you is a powerful magician. But he is already suppressed. When your emotions get stronger, the suppression weakens.

You are lucky to leave the life you had by today. If you were normal, it would have taken over your body by now."

It was simple. Since Asef had let everything go, he didn't have any emotional turbulence.

So, the one inside him didn't have a chance to take over.

"You can use that thing," Hon said. "Borrow its magic. Channel its power. But only if you learn to control it."

But now, Hon was giving him a chance. If Asef achieved it, he would be able to use magic.

"And if I fail?"

"Then it takes over."

Simple. Direct.

Asef sat back, thinking.

But not for long.

"I'll do it," he said.

Because in truth... what did he have to lose?

If he succeeded, maybe he'd become someone again.

If he failed, then maybe this cursed life would finally end.

Either way, it would be something.

And so, the training began.