Transmigrated into the world of Eros

The last thing I remembered was the sharp, metallic taste of cheap instant coffee and the low hum of my laptop fan. I was staring at a complex simulation of dark matter energy, a theoretical construct that promised to bridge the gap between quantum mechanics and general relativity. My name was Arjun, a 4th-year engineering student on the brink of a breakthrough, lost in a world of equations and code.Then, there was nothing. A vacuum. A profound, silent void that felt like the moment before a hard drive crashes. My consciousness, once a torrent of data and logic, was a single, flickering ember in a cold, dark space.Then, the static began. It wasn't sound, but a feeling—a painful, chaotic cacophony of sensations. The pressure in my chest was immense, a crushing weight that stole the air from my lungs. A thick, sweet taste coated my tongue, nauseatingly rich and cloying. My limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, like lead weights.And then, the pain. A searing, fiery agony in my chest that made my vision swim. I tried to scream, but only a pathetic, wet gurgle escaped. This couldn't be right. I was a healthy twenty-two-year-old. My life was defined by the late nights, the constant mental strain, not a sudden, violent, and utterly bewildering sensory overload.My lungs burned. My head throbbed. I was suffocating. Just as I thought my final, flickering ember of consciousness would be extinguished, a fresh wave of agony coursed through me, a final, convulsive shudder that wracked my entire frame. I felt myself lurch, and then, with a violent, involuntary heave, I coughed. A piece of something thick and rich flew out of my mouth, landing with a soft splat on an unseen surface.And with that final expulsion, I took a breath. A real, deep, ragged breath. Air rushed into my lungs, cold and clean, and I felt the pain in my chest subside, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache.My eyes snapped open. I was on the floor. My head was resting on a rug that felt impossibly soft and plush. I pushed myself up, my arms shaking with the effort. A groan escaped my lips, not from pain, but from the sheer, immense weight I was trying to move. It felt like I was trying to bench-press a small car.My vision cleared, and I took in my surroundings. This was not my dorm room.I was in a chamber of breathtaking opulence. The ceiling was a domed fresco depicting what looked like mythological beasts and valiant warriors. The walls were hung with tapestries woven with threads of gold and silver. A massive, four-poster bed, draped in crimson velvet, dominated one corner. A roaring fireplace cast a warm, dancing glow across the room, illuminating shelves lined with books bound in what looked like real leather.I was lying in the middle of this room, disoriented and confused. I was wearing clothes made of an unfamiliar, silky fabric, loose and flowing, designed to hide a multitude of sins. My arms, when I looked at them, were not the lean, muscled arms of a guy who spent hours at the gym to de-stress. They were soft, pale, and enormous, rolls of flesh hanging from the bone.A wave of pure horror washed over me. I tried to stand, but my legs buckled under the weight. I collapsed back onto the rug with a muffled thud.My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What was happening? Was I dreaming? A coma fantasy? My mind, trained in the cold, hard logic of engineering, began to process the variables.Environment: Unfamiliar, opulent, not a hospital.Body: Not my own. Overweight, sluggish, weak.Sensory Input: Real. The feel of the rug, the smell of woodsmoke, the taste of air. No dream could be this detailed.The only logical conclusion, however improbable, was that my consciousness had been transplanted into this body. I had been reincarnated. The word felt like a punch to the gut. This wasn't some fantasy novel. This was a nightmare.I pushed myself up onto my knees and then, with a monumental heave, managed to crawl to a nearby chair. The ornate, carved wood creaked ominously as I pulled myself up, my body groaning in protest. I sank into the cushions, panting, a sheen of sweat on my brow from the simple act of moving across the room.As I sat there, trying to regain my composure, I began to feel something strange. It was an internal sensation, a faint thrumming in the very core of my being. It wasn't the beating of my heart, or the rush of blood. It was a chaotic, disorganized, but undeniably powerful energy. It pulsed and swirled just beneath my skin, like a storm trapped in a teacup.It felt... familiar.My mind immediately jumped back to my research. The simulation of dark matter energy I'd been working on. I had theorized that dark matter, far from being a passive, invisible mass, was a form of exotic energy with unique properties. It interacted with regular matter in a subtle but profound way, influencing gravitational fields on a scale we couldn't yet measure. My theory suggested that it could be harnessed, that it wasn't just a force but a potential power source.The energy inside me felt exactly like my theoretical model. A raw, chaotic, yet fundamentally structured form of power. The chaotic nature of it was disturbing, a reflection of the body's neglect and poor physical state. It was an unstable system, a machine running on a wildly fluctuating power source. The concept of "mana harmony" the original prince lacked, was simply the stabilization and efficient utilization of this exotic energy.I was a fucking walking dark matter battery.This wasn't just a fantasy world; this was a new frontier in physics. My engineering mind, once so focused on circuits and code, now had a new, infinitely more complex system to debug. The panic and repulsion I felt earlier began to be replaced by a cold, calculating resolve.My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening.A young woman, no older than I appeared to be, entered the room. She was strikingly beautiful, with long black hair tied back in a simple ponytail and a lean, athletic frame. She wore a maid's uniform of a deep, simple blue with a white apron, but it couldn't hide her regal bearing. She carried a tray with a bowl of soup and a few pieces of bread.But it was her expression that truly hit me. Her face was a mask of cold, professional politeness, but her eyes, deep and brown, held a clear, undeniable contempt. She saw me sitting in the chair, a lump of flesh where I had been on the floor just moments ago, and a flicker of disdain crossed her features."My Prince," she said, her voice like ice. "It is time for your afternoon meal."I didn't answer. I couldn't. The venom in her tone was a physical blow. I had never been treated with such open disrespect in my life. In my old world, I was just a student, but I had friends, professors, and colleagues who treated me with kindness and mutual respect. This woman, a maid, looked at me as if I were a piece of garbage."The physician has prepared a special tonic to help with your... 'recovery'," she continued, placing the tray on a small table. She didn't look at me, but at the wall behind me. "He insists you drink it immediately."Her words painted a picture of the life this body had lived. "Recovery" from what? Binge eating? Excessive drinking? It all came rushing back to me, the faint memories of a privileged, wasted life. A life of shame and indulgence. I was the 4th Prince of the Singh family, a big fat boy of 167kg, a coward, an introvert, and a disgrace. My mother was the only one who showed me any support. Everyone else, including this maid, Alya, looked down on me.The contempt in her eyes was a reflection of the man I now inhabited. The man who had just died from a lack of self-control. The man who had been so lost and alone that he had spent his last moments overeating in a pathetic, solitary act of self-destruction.It was too much. The sheer weight of this body, the unfamiliar, chaotic energy, the scorn in the maid's eyes, the memory of my own life now gone—it all came crashing down on me. My chest tightened, not with pain this time, but with a searing mix of shame, anger, and a desperate, primal need to change."A mirror," I said, my voice coming out as a strained croak.She paused, her professional mask slipping for a moment, revealing a flicker of surprise. "My Prince?""Get me a mirror," I repeated, my voice now a bit stronger. "A full-length one."She hesitated, but then, with a sigh of what sounded like exasperation, she left the room.I waited, my heart pounding. I was terrified of what I was about to see. I had felt the bulk of this body, the rolls of fat and the immense weight, but seeing it would make it real. It would make it undeniable. It would cement my new reality.Alya returned a few minutes later, her strength evident as she wheeled in a large, ornate mirror on a wooden stand. She positioned it in front of me, and then, without another word, she left. She couldn't stand to be in the same room as this grotesque spectacle.I stood, my muscles protesting every inch of the way. I looked at the man in the mirror.My face, once defined by sharp cheekbones and an intelligent glint in my eyes, was now a bloated, moon-like orb. My neck had disappeared into a jowl of soft flesh. My stomach hung over my belt, a monstrous protrusion. My arms were like hams, my legs like thick pillars. I was a mountain of flesh, a caricature of a human being.The shame was overwhelming. This was not me. This was the empty shell I had inherited. This was the person who died, forgotten and alone. This was a man who let his body and his mind turn to ruin. I saw the life that Alya and others saw, a life of laziness, gluttony, and cowardice.My engineering mind, which had solved countless complex problems, had a new, terrifying, and profoundly personal project.This body was a system in critical failure. The mana, a powerful but raw energy source, was being used inefficiently and chaotically. The physical structure was weak and unstable. The reputation was an insurmountable negative variable.I took a deep, steadying breath. I would not live this life. I would not be this man.My name was Arjun, and I was going to fix this. I would rebuild this body from the ground up, just like I would a failing machine. I would re-engineer the mana flow, stabilize the chaotic energy, and turn this disgraceful body into a vessel of power.I looked at my reflection, no longer with horror, but with a cold, analytical fire. I was not just a prince. I was a scientist, an engineer, and now, a project manager. I would rebuild this body. I would rebuild my reputation. And I would rebuild this life.My first order of business was to purge this body of all its filth. I would start now.I walked to the door and opened it, my newfound resolve giving my movements a purpose that they had never had before. Alya was waiting outside, a bored look on her face."Alya," I said, my voice low and firm. She looked up, startled by the change in my tone. "I want you to prepare a bath. Cold. And then you will bring me only water and plain bread for the rest of the night. Do you understand?"She stared at me, her expression a mix of shock and confusion. "My Prince... the doctor said—""I don't care what the doctor said," I cut her off, the authority in my voice a foreign thing to both of us. "I am telling you what to do. Now go."She stared for another moment, then, with a look of stunned disbelief, she bowed and hurried away.I closed the door and turned back to the mirror. The fat boy was still there, but in his eyes, a new life had begun.