I opened my eyes to a ceiling I had never seen before. The fan above my head spun slowly, creaking every few seconds, making a sound too loud for such a small room. For a moment, I just stared at it, confused, trying to remember how I got here.
The last thing I remembered was… the truck. The blaring horn, the massive shadow, the impact that should have ended me. And then the system's voice. The void. My wish for the healing factor. My transmigration.
I sat up quickly, my heart racing.
The bed beneath me wasn't mine. The sheets were neatly tucked, not the messy blanket I usually threw over myself. There were schoolbooks stacked on a wooden table in the corner, some of them open with half-finished homework scribbled across them. A cricket bat leaned against the wall.
This wasn't my room.
"Ansh! Wake up, beta, breakfast is ready!"
The voice came from outside the door — a woman's voice, warm and casual, as if she had called me like this every morning for years.
I froze. No one had ever called me like that before. In my old world, I lived alone. There was no motherly voice waiting for me in the mornings, no one reminding me about food. For a second, I didn't know how to respond.
Before I could say anything, the door creaked open and a little girl poked her head in. She looked about seven or eight, with two ponytails and bright eyes full of mischief.
"Bhaiya, hurry up!" she said, grinning. "Mumma is getting angry!"
Bhaiya?
She ran off before I could answer, her small feet pattering against the tiled floor.
I slowly got up and walked toward the mirror hanging on the wall. What I saw made me stumble back.
The face staring at me wasn't my sixteen-year-old self. It was younger, rounder, softer. My hair was the same, dark and messy, but the body was smaller. My height had shrunk, my shoulders narrower. I looked like… a twelve-year-old boy.
I touched my face, my hands trembling. This was real. The system hadn't lied. It had rewritten me into a new world.
But then why did that girl call me bhaiya?
I stepped out into the hallway cautiously. The house was bigger than the cramped flat I used to live in. The walls were painted cream, decorated with family photos. I paused at one — a photo of four people. A man with glasses, smiling. A woman in a saree, holding the little girl I had just seen. Beside them was a boy about my age, wearing a school uniform.
And in the corner of the photo… me.
I staggered back, my chest tightening. My image was there, smiling with them like I had always been part of their family.
Before I could process it, the man from the photo walked out of another room, adjusting his tie. He spotted me and smiled.
"Ansh, good, you're awake. Quickly freshen up, we'll have breakfast together."
I opened my mouth but no words came out. He was looking at me like a father would, casual, natural, as if I had been living here for years.
"Uncle…" I muttered, the word slipping out without thought.
He chuckled. "Arrey, don't call me uncle all the time. You live with us now, hai na? Think of this as your own home."
Mahesh Dagli. I remembered the name suddenly. My mind had caught pieces of it — the Dagli family, from the show I had seen in my old world. That meant the little girl was Meher, and the boy must be Manav.
And somehow, I was now part of their household.
I forced a smile, nodding. "Okay, Uncle."
He patted my shoulder and walked past me.
At the dining table, Smita — the woman who had called me earlier — was serving breakfast. Manav was already sitting down, his schoolbag on the chair beside him. Meher was giggling, swinging her legs under the table.
When I sat down, all three of them looked at me like I had always been there. Smita handed me a plate. "Eat properly, Ansh. You're growing, you need strength."
I stared at the food — hot parathas with butter on top, a bowl of curd, and some pickle on the side. It wasn't anything fancy, but compared to the stale bread and watery dal I had often eaten in my past life, it felt like a feast.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
Smita smiled warmly. "Such a polite boy."
Manav rolled his eyes. "He's only polite in front of you, Mumma. At school, he acts like a know-it-all."
I glanced at him. So this was Manav Dagli, the boy I remembered from the show. He was a year younger than me now, but his sharp tongue was already clear.
Meher laughed. "Ansh Bhaiya always scolds me when I don't finish my homework!"
I couldn't help but smile faintly. Maybe the system had done more than just place me here. It had woven me into their lives so deeply that everyone believed I had always been part of this family.
But inside, I knew the truth. I wasn't really their cousin. I was a boy from another world, carrying memories that no one else could ever understand.
As we ate, I kept my head down, listening to their chatter. Manav complained about a teacher, Meher talked about a drawing competition, and Smita reminded Mahesh to bring home groceries. It was so ordinary. So normal.
And yet, I couldn't relax. Because deep inside, I knew this world wasn't ordinary at all.
This was the world of Baalveer.
I remembered the system's words clearly. "Transmigration begins." It hadn't told me why I was brought here, only that I had been granted a healing factor and a bloodline gift. But if this was the Baalveer world, then danger wasn't far. Bhayankar Pari, evil fairies, constant threats — they were all real here.
And now, I was part of the Dagli family.
Which meant Meher and Manav weren't just characters on a screen anymore. They were my little cousins. My responsibility.
As that realization sank in, something inside me hardened. In my old world, I had lived only for survival. Here, maybe I had been given a chance for more.
But at the same time, I couldn't let anyone know. Not yet. If they knew I remembered another life, if they knew I wasn't the boy they thought I was, it would only bring questions I couldn't answer.
So I smiled, acted normal, and ate breakfast like I belonged.