I woke up around midnight with my mouth dry, so I reached for my water. It's always on the floor to the left of my bed, a habit I've had since starting college. But this time, it wasn't there.
I figured it probably got knocked over, so I brushed my hand along the floor to find it. That's when I realized… this didn't feel like my room's floor at all. My floor is covered with a mat, but this felt like smooth tiles.
That's when it hit me — the bed I was on felt huge. Not to glaze myself, but I'm 6'7", so my single apartment bed never feels this spacious. I couldn't roll around like this in my own bed even if I tried.
A small wave of panic crept in. Was I kidnapped? But then again… who would even bother? I barely had any friends, and even fewer enemies.
I climbed out of bed — and that's when I noticed something even stranger. I was shorter. I know what it feels like to be tall, but this time, the ground felt much closer than usual. I tried not to think about it too much and started looking for the light switch. It wasn't there.
That made me even more certain — this wasn't my room.
I glanced to my left and noticed a wide, open window. My room's window was always behind my bed, never to the side. Faint light poured in from outside, just enough for me to make out a few shapes. I could see lights from other buildings in the distance. That gave me some relief , at least I seemed to be somewhere near human civilization.
With the faint light spilling in from the window, I slowly began searching for any kind of light source, moving carefully so I wouldn't make a sound — just in case I had been kidnapped. But of course, I had to ruin it by stumbling over something.
Don't blame me — my body felt strange. Not just the usual grogginess from waking up, but off in a way I couldn't quite explain.
That's when I heard it, a sudden noise, followed by the creak of a door opening to my left. A tall figure stepped inside, holding a lamp… except instead of a bulb, it had a glowing crystal inside.
The whole scene was baffling. First off — why did this guy seem so tall? I mean, I'm 6'7". I've never met anyone who could make me feel short, and yet here I was looking up at this man. The size difference was ridiculous, like I was staring at a giant.
Second — what's with the glowing crystal? Ever heard of a phone flashlight, buddy?
Before I could say anything, he dropped to his knees and grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me and speaking in some language I didn't understand. His face, which had been lit with excitement a moment ago, suddenly shifted to deep worry.
I just stood there thinking, No way this is real. Nobody alive could make me look this tiny. This has to be a dream right?
So I decided to play along. "Yooo, you speak English?" I asked.
Trying to give as much facials as possible to enfanctuate what I was trying to say.
But he didn't understand a word, as his worried expression only deepened.
Soon, more lights started appearing from the doorway, carried by a group of unfamiliar faces, each one holding the same type of glowing crystal. Still convinced this was all just a dream, I figured I might as well enjoy myself before waking up.
I ignored them completely and started pretending I had superpowers, aiming my hands at the wall and trying to shoot webs. "Pew, pew, pew." Nothing happened.
Weird, I thought. Aren't dreams supposed to be under your control?
Then I glanced back at the crowd, and their expressions caught me off guard. They looked… sad. Some even had tears in their eyes. But before I could process that, they began to slowly step aside, making way for two intimidating men.
They were masked, dressed in strange outfits, and carried smoking incense-like objects, moving around the room as if performing some ancient ritual.
I wasn't fazed, obviously, I still believed it was just a dream.
Then the smoke reached me. A heavy drowsiness began to creep in, my eyelids growing heavier by the second. Wait… you can fall asleep inside a dream?
With that thought, I let myself drift away, ready to wake up and face yet another grueling day of college.
Morning came with sunlight streaming through the window. At first, it felt normal, until I realized the sun was shining from my left.
That's when my mind snapped awake. I took a proper look around the room, and it definitely wasn't mine. This place was luxurious, the kind of space you'd expect from a five-star hotel. Except… it wasn't modern.
For a moment, I wondered if I was still dreaming. Wouldn't be the first time I'd had two dreams at once. But this one felt different. Too vivid for some reason.
Still, my brain tried to make a joke of it. Maybe my whole life up to now has been fake. Maybe I'm some prince who's been in a coma for years and I just woke up.
Not gonna lie, the thought actually amused me. Not because I hate my life, but because… come on, who wouldn't want that?
That's when I noticed it, a massive, luxurious-looking mirror against the far wall. The room was bigger than I'd realized in the dark, which explained why I hadn't seen it last night. Curious, I looked closer, half-wondering if I'd even have a reflection in this so-called dream.
But what I saw made my stomach drop.
Staring back at me wasn't myself, not the tall, 6'7" college student I knew. Instead, it was a boy. A young, ridiculously handsome boy with black hair and sharp brown eyes.
Instantly, I started pinching my arm, slapping my face, doing anything to wake myself up. But nothing happened. The pain was there, but no jolt back to reality.
Panicking, I stumbled off the oversized bed and staggered toward the shelf in front of the mirror, clutching my head as a wave of dizziness washed over me. "Ugh, why do I feel so lightheaded?" I muttered.
My eyes scanned for something sharp. If pain couldn't wake me with a pinch, maybe something stronger would. My hand landed on what looked like a pen — though not the kind I'd ever seen before. It was sleek, strange, and had a wickedly sharp edge.
Without hesitation, I drove it into my palm.
The result wasn't the quick escape I expected. Instead, a blinding wave of agony ripped through me as blood gushed out, staining the pen lodged between my hand.
"Fuck!" I screamed, the word echoing through the luxurious room.
That's when the door burst open.
The same tall man from last night rushed in, his eyes wide with panic. He darted toward me, grabbing my bleeding hand and muttering the same incomprehensible language as before.
Normally, whenever I was in pain, I had this instinct to shove people away — probably a habit from growing up in a family that wasn't exactly big on affection. So, of course, I tried to push him off me, even though my strength was fading fast.
But probably because the blood loss was too much. My vision blurred, my head spun like it was caught in a whirlpool, and before I could even process what was happening… everything went black again.
It's been two days since that incident, and I've come to realize that I might be going through what novel readers would call transmigration. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Part of me wanted to be excited, another part thought I should be sad — but in truth, I didn't really feel much at all.
Back in my old life, things weren't terrible. I came from a third-world country, and thanks to my dad, I was able to move to Ireland for school, with the hope of building a better future. I thought things would go smoothly, but of course, they didn't.
My first year was rough. I struggled to find a job, so my parents still had to support me financially. On top of that, I had endless apartment issues and lived every day under stress.
But as I entered my second year, things were finally starting to look up. I had just landed a decent job and was waiting to start. I'd moved out of the place I once called hell and found a bit of peace. I thought this would finally be the year I could actually enjoy myself — hang out with friends, live freely, and stop being a burden on my family.
And then… I woke up here.
But do I feel desperate to go back? Do I want to die and just to return? Not really. And I can't even explain why.
"Well, let's at least try to learn something about this world," I muttered to myself before shouting, "Yoooo!" hoping to get the attention of the man who always seemed to be the one looking after me.
Sure enough, he came in quickly, his eyes going straight to my hand, which was wrapped in cloth. To my surprise, it didn't hurt anymore — in fact, it felt almost fully healed. That was shocking, since wounds like the one I gave myself should've taken weeks to recover from.
"What's going on here? Who am I?" I tried asking some basic questions, anything that came to mind. But as usual, he didn't understand a single word. Instead, he just looked at me with an even sadder expression, spouting the same incomprehensible language.
"Fuck… what kind of transmigration is this if I don't even get the benefit of inheriting the original person's memories?" I thought bitterly.
The idea that I'd have to start from scratch and learn this world's language made my stomach sink. I was already terrible at languages — it already took me endless effort just to get decent at English, and that was my first language.
After fussing over me for a while, the man finally left, looking nervous the whole time. And just like that, I was alone again, with no answers.
It wasn't the first time I'd tried talking to him. Every attempt ended the same, no real progress, and if anything, he only seemed to get more nervous the more I pushed.
At this point, I figured it would be easier to just piece things together on my own. That was the plan, anyway… until the headache hit.
This time, it was worse.
Pzzttttt
"Synchronization 0.2%… memory sectors corrupted…"
"…survive… adapt… chaos…"
I clutched my head, gritting my teeth. Damn it! I wanted to scream. Strange, broken voices echoed inside my skull, and before I could even process them, another one followed.
"Hello, Doctor Dave. It's been a while."