I fell asleep trying to wait for them...? Well, I blame the sofa. Oh wow... They're standing right in front of me...

One. Two. Three. Four. Five white people...?

Jeez... When they surround me like this, it feels like something... Is this what white oppression feels like?

Well, I don't know!

Their presence doesn't really feel wealthy or powerful, sitting in front of them, or maybe I'm just ignorant about it.

It's not like I've seen or met people who are wealthy and rich like that...

Huh... Looks like they've been watching me before I've even woken up. But was it weird for me not to react surprised at all? As if this shit were normal?

I just noticed that my thoughts are going faster than they normally should. And even in my agitated state, it doesn't reach this fast-paced thinking as right now.

Is it another power? Cool! Maybe this is one of those base skills you have as a superpowered individual.

Alright! Back to these people.

Okay... If these people really bore what this house represents, then perhaps it wasn't that unnatural.

I blame my incredibly mastered poker face... or maybe my incapability to visibly express what I truly feel. Well, I certainly don't know!

If there are these many white people in a house, then I'm certain that this is not my country, the Philippines.

Not to mention, I've been in a coma for a year and a half, so it's plausible that I might have been transported into a different country, and my only question is which one...?

Yeah... I can process my thoughts at superhuman speed, but I probably shouldn't be lost in my mind like usual, or else I would look like I'm spacing out.

Which I am, but yeah, I don't want my outside to show that.

Have I been inattentively listening? That would explain why I've been sitting in front of them and I haven't heard them utter a single word.

Spacing out the whole time, I've been politely looking at these confused yet concerned white people. Way to go, me!

I hope my power face and body language are perfect, or else they would have seen me behave like when there are visitors in your own house—polite, tense, and uncomfortable in every aspect possible.

One by one, they finally talked and introduced themselves to me.

In the very left of my point of view, there is a gorgeous woman with black hair, brown eyes, soft facial features, and an incredibly warm aura. "Hi, honey. I am Isla Smith, the mother of this household," she gracefully said; her voice felt gentle and comforting.

Standing next to her is her husband, a fine-looking man with blonde hair, brown eyes, and sharp facial features. "Hey, kid. I'm the father, Theo Smith," he said, his tone feeling comforting, like a cool dad introducing himself to me.

A beautiful young woman bearing the features of her mom introduced herself. "My name is Iris Smith. I am the second child of the Smiths," she formally spoke to me.

Middle child, huh?

A buff young man, bearing the features of both parents, spoke next. "Oldest, my name's Alex," he casually introduced himself.

Then there was the last young man. His beautiful golden brown hair, shining even without the sun dazzling it, was worth staring at. "Youngest. Felix Smith," he timidly introduced himself.

Youngest, huh...? Same as me, then.

"You must be confused right now," Mrs. Smith said, gently sitting on the sofa and informing me.

Her tone was careful, like she was going to break news to me. "Your situation was in dire need of people like us, and fast forward to today, we are your foster parents," she told me.

I nodded and gave a small soft smile. "I see," I politely replied.

She handed me papers that I noticed she had been holding on to even before the family introduced themselves to me.

The paper had the word "Canadian," so I assume I'm in Canada, and these people are obviously Canadian.

I've never been a foster child or had an experience when it comes to being adopted, so it makes sense that I can't make meaning of the adoption papers I'm currently holding.

The other papers entailed the medical condition that I suffered from, which caused me to enter a comatose state.

An unexplainable or undiscovered reason. It said in the paper, which sounds shady but can make sense considering I'm a superpowered individual.

This says here that the Smiths fully financed my entire medical treatment, an experimental drug called Blank Cure.

There are no details here on what this experimental drug does, but I assume it's not something that could be disclosed on paper.

The drug must be why I'm not plugged into any tubes and why I didn't need foods or fluids that I normally see in hospitals that are essential for patients to recover.

I'm not going to try to understand it any further, but all I know is that these papers mean that I'm alive because of these people.

"Thank you. Mrs. and Mr. Smith," I gratefully said to them.

6:30 AM, huh. I only slept for a few hours.

I was lucky I caught a glimpse of the analog clock that was hanging from the living area's wall.

Mrs. Smith, who was sitting in front of me while the others stood, invited me to their morning breakfast.

She explained that every family member is required to be present at morning breakfast and that the family would often dine together at lunch and dinner if possible.

That means lunch and dinner as a family rarely happen. Good to know.

My brain wanted to reject Mrs. Smith's invitation because her family are basically strangers to me, but her delivery and tone sounded... motherly in a way that there was not room for declining.

Mrs. Smith told me she would prepare a traditional Filipino breakfast called "longsilog," having seen me finally wake up from the coma.

Her pronunciation of "longsilog" was amazing; this means she knows what she's going to cook, and that feels assuring.

After fifteen minutes, she was already done cooking, maybe because all you need for longsilog are fried eggs, fried sausages, and rice.

Their dining table was spacious; Mrs. Smith told me to take the empty seat on the very far right side of the table.

I assumed that they abide by a strict or assigned seating arrangement, so I expected and figured that this seat would be my seat at the times I eat with them.

Wow... Even here there's a clear hierarchy.

Alex, then Iris, then Felix.

Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith, and then me.

In the fifteen minutes that Mrs. Smith was cooking in the kitchen, I suffered an uncomfortable atmosphere sitting at the table.

I thought it was because they are strangers to me, as I am a stranger to them.

Their stares and uncomfortable positions as they sat on their chairs were visibly noticed, or maybe I'm just observant of people's behavior.

To be honest, it's not like it's that weird or unusual; there's a brown teenager sitting right in front of them, so uncomfortability would be expected.

I didn't let their intense stares and awkward behavior bother me as Mrs. Smith fixed me a plate.

They didn't pray nor stop me when I picked up my spoon and fork, diving in to eat, so I just began eating.

My tears almost flooded the room after I took a bite, though I was so happy I finally got to eat longsilog that I danced my way through the meal.

I just hoped my small dance movements weren't as visible as I hoped, especially when their stares weren't budging even when they also started eating.

I don't think I'll ever get used to this kind of behavior of theirs towards me, but I might if I get to eat tasty foods or foods from my country.

Oh fuck. They did see me dance in my seat. That's so embarrassing!!!

I've mastered my poker face and perfected my polite behavior, but even then, I still have a weakness for delicious foods...!!!

Well, shit. This means I may have butchered my first impression. Oh well...!

"Don't be uncomfortable," Mrs. Smith said, softly laughing in her seat next to me.

"Uh... So can I ask, dear, if you're open to enrolling in a school?" she asked me.

"I am, Mrs. Smith," I politely answered.

"The school year is ending in late June, so you'll be starting school in September. Would that be alright?" she asked for my input.

I wasn't really interested in enrolling in a school even though I politely answered yes earlier, but it just felt impolite and rude of me to decline extremely generous offers from people who are essentially financing my survival and life in the world.

"That'd be alright, Mrs. Smith," I respectfully replied.

I'm not sure what grade I would be in, but I think I'll be a senior high school student in Canadian terms.

Shit. I'm done eating, and they're not... Should I abruptly get up from my seat and leave, or should I stay here and wait for them?

"You can go to your room if you're done; just place your dishes into the sink," Mrs. Smith gently informed me, having noticed I was finished with my food.

"Don't forget the gadgets placed in your room; they are all yours," she added.

Wow... They really did buy those high-quality and expectedly expensive items for someone like me...

Huh. Rich people really do live in their worlds, though I'm not even sure if the word "rich" is enough to describe this family.

With her instructions and permission in mind, I gently stood from my seat to place my plate onto the sink, which surprised me a little bit, because that kitchen is a luxury.

Or maybe I'm just used to being poor...?

They were still eating as I left the dining area, but I was able to get a glimpse of their relaxed behavior as I was going upstairs to my supposed room.

It must be because they're sharing a table with someone they wholeheartedly do not know that they are like that, but it makes sense and could be relatable if I were in the same position.

I stared into my dark ceiling for about a minute and already became bored, and despite refraining from wanting to use the gadgets they said were mine to use, I couldn't do it.

I'm weak as fuck!!!

Anyways, the apps I needed were already downloaded, and I wanted to catch up on pop culture and figured that Twitter doomscrolling is the best way to do that.

Oop. I've been so absorbed by my scrolling that half an hour has already passed...

I still wasn't used to my fingers being so skinny that I kept accidentally pressing the home button on the phone.

I knew I should have explored my way through the phone before I scrolled on Twitter. But after noticing the contacts app, I was curious.

Nice. The Smiths' contact information was embedded in it. Though I doubt I'd ever be comfortable using them.

I mean... talking to parents isn't easy, even when you're talking to them digitally.

And Iris's formal introduction to me tells me everything I need to know about interacting with her, which is... I shouldn't.

Alex's demeanor was easy-going, but I won't be fooled by it. I felt some kind of I-shouldn't-bother-him kind of aura, so he was off-limits.

The last one... Felix Smith. His voice felt robotic and emotionless, but he was also timid when he introduced himself.

Those characteristics don't really scream "I shouldn't bother him," so I figured it was a safe bet to talk to him.

Besides, we share a common trait, which is that we are both the youngest in our families.

Alright! It's decided! Let's chat with him.

Even when I felt like I decided, I still couldn't wholly go through it because I'm not brave enough to go through it.

But if I want to achieve my goal, then I will need to get rid of being shy.

So, through the chat. I sent a simple message.

"Hello," I texted.