My supposed Trash SSS Ranked Talent Is Actually OP!

Asher's family lived in a rented, three-bedroom apartment on the fifteenth floor of a twenty-story building, with two units on each floor.

It wasn't much, but it was comfortable, and for the price, there was enough space. From the entrance, the first thing anyone would see was the kitchen—neat and compact—with a small dining area to the side.

Just beside that was the living room, furnished with three large couches, a coffee table, and a TV that looked like it had never been used before.

A hallway led to the bedrooms. Asher's room stood alone on the right, separated from the others.

It was the largest, given his gender and the amount of space he needed for his things. His supposed computer setup, books, and scattered papers often made it feel cluttered, but he made efforts to keep it spotless every time.

His mother's and sister's bedrooms were on the other side of the apartment—not as large but just the right size for them.

Alya's room, though smaller, was always tidy, in contrast to Asher's. Their mother's room was plain, with little decoration beyond a bedside lamp and a few framed photos.

The apartment wasn't extravagant, but it was home. It was something Alexander would have called small and blamed himself for, just as the previous owner of this body had always promised himself that he would move them to a better place.

Asher's room, despite being the largest, was always neat. His desk was organized, with books stacked properly and papers sorted into folders.

His bed was made every morning, and there was never a stray piece of clothing lying around.

Everything had its place. It was a habit he had built over the years—keeping things in order helped him focus.

Alya, on the other hand, had a tendency to leave things scattered in her rush to get through the day. Her room wasn't messy, but it wasn't as neatly kept as Asher's.

The apartment was quiet and peaceful that morning, as always—until the argument started.

Alya stood before him, arms crossed, her red eyes glaring up at Asher.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're acting weird," she said. "If this is some kind of joke, it's not funny."

Asher pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "I'm not joking. I don't remember having a sister."

Alya scoffed. "Oh, really? Then who have you been living with all this time?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came. His memories didn't match the reality in front of him.

His room was his, his phone was his, but the people—Alya, his mother,they weren't supposed to exist.

Before he could respond, a weak voice interrupted them.

"…What's going on?"

Both of them turned. Their mother stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall for support.

She looked pale, dark circles under her golden eyes, and her black hair was unkempt from just waking up.

Alya's expression shifted instantly from frustration to concern. She hurried to her side. "Mom, you shouldn't be up. You need to rest."

Their mother gave her a tired smile and reached out to touch her head. "I heard you two arguing… What's wrong?"

Alya hesitated before answering, her voice softer now. "Asher's acting weird. He doesn't remember me."

Their mother's gaze moved to Asher, searching his face. There was no anger, just quiet worry. "…Asher?"

He stood there,unsure of what to say. He didn't want to upset her, whoever she was, but he also didn't want to lie to her.

Asher swallowed the bile that had formed in his throat for no reason before locking eyes with the frail woman before him.

She looked at him the way every mother would, familiarity, worry, and it made him feel weird since he had never been on the receiving end of that kind of look before.

He didn't know her, but he could see blurry memories of her and Alya; laughing, doing all sorts of things together.

Alya gently held their mother's arm, supporting her weight. "You should sit down," she urged, casting a glance at Asher before shifting her focus back to her.

"You're pushing yourself too much again."

Their mother sighed but allowed Alya to help her sit on the couch by Asher's table. She looked tired, exhausted even, despite the amount of sleep she had.

She kept her gaze on Asher and then smiled. "You really don't remember?"

Asher hesitated. He couldn't outright say he didn't know them, but he also couldn't lie to her if she truly was his mother, as Alya claimed.

Denying her would hurt.

Clenching his fist, he finally uttered, "Not quite sure. I just fell asleep, and everything seems foggy."

It was a half-truth. Maybe they would understand and leave him alone to figure things out.

Alya's expression turned to frustration, her lips pressing into a thin line. "That's ridiculous. You woke up, what, an hour ago? And now you suddenly forgot your entire family?"

Her frustration was clear, but it was her way of showing concern. Their mother, however, only sighed, as if this wasn't the first time she had faced something like this.

And it wasn't.

The previous owner of this body had always been forgetful—temporary amnesia that often made him forget a lot of things for a certain period.

Until recently, the last time something like this had happened was a few months ago.

"Alya, relax," their mother said, placing her frail hand on her daughter's knee. "He's still your elder brother, and don't take your frustration out on him. Besides, you should be congratulating him instead of arguing."

Alya pouted and turned away, but she didn't argue. She glanced at Asher again, still annoyed.

"What do you remember then?" she asked. "Because if you think you don't have a family, what do you think your life was before today?"

'Tch. Like I care about that,' he thought, shifting his gaze to his mother.

"Uhm...you mentioned something about congratulating me…" he started, avoiding her gaze like a shy kid.

"What is it for?"

Alya scoffed. "You'd rather talk about that than what's wrong with you?"

He shrugged. "I really don't care about myself anymore. I'd rather focus on the future and the congratulations I'm receiving."

He smiled proudly. "Maybe I won the lottery, or maybe the tournament sent me ten times the amount they were supposed to."

"How about that?"

"You really need to get your head chec..." Alya trailed off when their mother rose to her feet and gestured for Alya to come with her.

She had no choice but to obey. They both left Asher speechless, causing a frown to settle on his face.

"Just like that, Did I win something good, or is it just congratulations for waking up to another day?"

He exhaled lowly and turned to the mirror, still unable to believe the face that stared back at him. He couldn't deny he looked good, but he preferred his old face.

Average looks, tired eyes that made people keep their distance.

Not even his ex-girlfriend had found him particularly attractive.

But now… if everyone in this world had faces like those from his past life, then he would have to struggle with being the hottest.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he hated the attention.

"Hm?" He tilted his head. "Since I look like this, maybe I'm done with college then. After all, with this face and height, I'm certainly a working-class adult now."

He chuckled softly, running his fingers through his hair.

"I could play games all day and chill without worrying about class…"

"Asher!"

Alya barged in once again, almost making Asher pity the door. But then he noticed she was different—happier, not pissed.

He watched as she hurried to his side and shoved a white envelope into his hands, his name written boldly on the front, an address beside it.

"Velcrest Academy?" he read aloud, holding the envelope as if it were a piece of trash.

"Is it my graduation certificate?"

"What....…No! It's from the principal! Your nonstop all night studying finally paid off."

Asher's eyes slowly widened, and then dread replaced his excitement. "No…"

"Yes!" she squealed. "You got accepted!"

"NO!!!"