The next morning, the pain arrived before the memories.
It wasn't intense, but it was constant. An accumulated fatigue in my arms, my shoulders, even my back. Every small movement confirmed it: yesterday hadn't been a minor thing.
Even so, I didn't stay in bed.
I sat up carefully, taking a deep breath before turning my body. The movement toward the chair was slower than the day before, less impulsive. More conscious.
I failed the first attempt.
My hand slipped from the edge of the bed and I had to support myself again, frustrated.
"Great..." I muttered.
The second attempt was better. I managed to sit in the chair without help, although the effort left me breathless for a few seconds.
I stayed still.
Waiting for my body to stop protesting.
This time, no one was there to see it.
And, for some reason, that made it more important.
The hallway was silent when I went out. The mansion wasn't fully awake yet. The morning light came in at soft angles, casting long shadows on the floor.
I moved forward slowly.
Every turn required attention. Every slight unevenness, adjustment.
But I didn't stop.
When I reached the corner of the main hallway, I heard footsteps.
Fast. Firm.
Ryan appeared around the corner and stopped dead when she saw me.
"...Oh."
We stood looking at each other for a second.
"You got up on your own," she finally said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
Ryan crossed her arms, evaluating the situation.
"How many times did you fail?"
I blinked.
"What?"
"To get in the chair," she clarified. "How many times?"
I hesitated.
"Once."
Ryan nodded.
"Good."
"Good?"
"If you had said 'none', I wouldn't have believed you."
I didn't know whether to feel offended or... validated.
Ryan took a step to the side, clearing the hallway.
"Keep going."
"Huh?"
"You were going somewhere, weren't you?"
I looked ahead.
I hadn't thought about it that much.
"To the dining room... I guess."
"Then don't stop."
There was something in her tone. It wasn't harsh. It was direct.
I obeyed.
I moved forward. Ryan walked beside me, without touching the chair, without offering help.
After a few meters, she spoke again.
"You didn't do badly yesterday."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It's a fact."
I turned my head slightly.
"Thanks... I think."
Ryan let out a short exhale, almost a laugh.
"Don't get too excited."
We kept moving in silence for a few seconds.
"But," she added, "you did push yourself too hard."
There it was.
"Everyone says that."
"Because it's true."
"If I don't, I won't get better."
Ryan shook her head.
"Not like that."
I stopped, pausing a bit longer than necessary.
"Then, how?"
Ryan stopped too.
For the first time, she didn't answer immediately.
"You're trying to compensate for something," she finally said.
I felt a small knot in my stomach.
"And what if I am?"
"It doesn't work."
Her gaze was direct. Unsoftened.
"The body doesn't respond well when you treat it like a debt."
I didn't expect that.
"How do you train?" I asked.
Ryan shrugged.
"I listen to how far I can go today. And then I push a little more."
"That sounds the same as pushing yourself too hard."
"It isn't."
I frowned.
Ryan took a step closer, just enough to make her presence feel firmer.
"You are trying to reach a point that no longer exists," she said. "I work with the one I have."
The comment left me in silence.
Not because of what she said.
Because of how precise it was.
Ryan seemed to notice something in my expression, but she didn't mention it.
Instead, she tapped her foot lightly on the floor.
"Another thing."
I looked up.
"Your left turn is weaker."
"How...?"
"It shows," she interrupted. "You lose rhythm."
I looked at the wheels.
"I hadn't noticed."
"You will."
Ryan took a step back.
"Show me."
"Here?"
"Here."
I sighed.
I placed my hands on the wheels and moved forward a few meters. Then I tried to turn.
Just as she said, the movement was uneven.
"Again."
I repeated the turn.
"Don't look at the wheels," she instructed. "Feel the weight."
I tried again.
This time it was a little better.
"Again."
The third attempt was more fluid.
When I finished, I looked up.
Ryan nodded.
"There."
"Was that... training?"
"Something like that."
I couldn't help but smile a little.
"You're stricter than you look."
Ryan snorted.
"And you're more stubborn than you should be."
We continued moving toward the dining room.
The atmosphere was already more active. Voices, movement, the clinking of utensils. The mansion's routine in motion.
Before going in, Ryan stopped.
"Don't change yesterday's pace," she said suddenly.
I looked at her.
"But don't repeat it, either."
"That sounds contradictory."
"It is."
She shrugged.
"Get used to it."
Ryan went in first.
I stayed outside for a second.
Thinking.
Not about what she had said.
But how she had said it.
There was no condescension.
No excessive care.
Just... clarity.
When I entered the dining room, McQueen was already there.
She looked up when she saw me.
Then, briefly, she looked at Ryan.
She didn't say anything, but something in her expression changed.