What I first noticed when I saw my reflection were my eyes. They were red.
In this world, eyes and hair came in all shades and colors, though some were rarer than others. My eyes were considered somewhat rare, but not so much that someone would immediately say, "Oh, he must be Adrian—he has red eyes."
Still, I remembered something from the novel—the Witch of Nightmares. She was given that title because she was a witch with red eyes.
Red was said to be easier to remember in this world. There was even a myth: people often recalled strangers they had seen during their lives as nightmares if those strangers had red eyes. Whether this was true or not had never been proven.
I was also blonde. My hair was kept at an appropriate length—not too long, not too short. However, it was a little rough in texture. Seeing the meticulous care taken with its length, one could at least assume the roughness wasn't due to negligence.
But even a child would solve the mystery of my hair texture once they observed my body.
"Am I a zombie?" I screamed.
It was hard to control myself when I saw it—my body looked like that of a zombie. I was thin, with no muscles to speak of. The only good thing about me was my height, around six feet. Maybe a little more, but definitely not less.
Compared to my original appearance, the difference was striking. Back then, I had black hair, black eyes, and was shorter than six feet.
If I had to find a common trait between my past self and current self, I'd say I was still average. Not handsome, not ugly—just in-between, someone who could blend into a crowd like a good spy. Except, I wasn't a spy. And honestly, I would have appreciated a more handsome appearance.
If I had to identify myself in a crowd, I wouldn't choose my hair or eyes. The zombie-like body was the clearest marker. Still, being an "extra," it was better to remain unnoticed.
I should sleep. Today was tough. Even though I had already napped, my mind still needed more rest.
So, I finally went to sleep.
---
I heard a knock.
I didn't know what time it was, but it definitely wasn't a good time to wake someone. Groggily, I went to open the door.
There stood the principal, wearing the same unreadable expression as always. The hallway was dark, with only the light from my room spilling into it. He just stood there, silent. My senses were dulled, and I couldn't make sense of what was happening.
Unable to bear the tension, I asked,
"Principal sir, do you have some business with me? It's not the right time. If it was urgent, you could have just called me."
He stood there for a moment, then said,
"I don't have any business with someone who is not my student."
Anxiety crept in.
"What do you mean, sir?"
His reply was worse.
"Just what I said. Give me my student back, imposter."
Something intangible began crawling inside me. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to listen. I didn't want to speak. I just wanted to sit at the door, hold my head, and scream.
But I stood frozen.
Someone, please… help me.
I didn't want to come here.
I didn't want to be some stupid extra.
I didn't even want to be the MC.
Just take me back to Earth. Please.
Finally, I held my head, closed my eyes, and screamed repeatedly:
"PLEASE."
"PLEASE."
"PLEASE."
"PLEASE."
Nothing happened. The principal was still there, expressionless. I was still in this world. Still scared. A broken robot, malfunctioning—maybe even programmed wrong. Whatever it was, it was terrifying.
Finally, he took a step forward.
I stepped back, unwilling to let the distance shrink. But it felt like space itself was warping—the gap kept closing no matter how I moved.
Step.
Step.
Step.
He came closer. And I became more terrified.
But why? Was it because he could now reach me? Or was it the situation itself?
What scared me more?
What would happen if he reached me?
If he killed me, would I go back?
The principal raised his hand. My eyes locked onto it, unblinking, unable to look away.
Finally, his hand reached me.
And I stopped breathing.
Why couldn't I breathe?
Was he choking me?
Or was this my own psychological cage suffocating me?
Whatever the reason, I realized two things:
First, my lungs desperately needed air.
Second, I couldn't feel his pressure—or even his touch.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came. Whether it was because no air filled my lungs or because my body refused to let me speak, I couldn't tell. Maybe both.
And then—darkness.
---
My eyes snapped open.
Pant. Pant. Pant.
My chest struggled to keep up with the rush of air.
It was a dream.
Or rather… a nightmare.
But the nightmare was nothing compared to what I felt next. My eyes were filled with tears, overflowing like rivers. I might die of dehydration if this continued, losing all my water through tears alone.
My head wasn't working either. I was scared. Anxious. Anxiety was devouring me whole.
Was this just because of the nightmare?
No. I understood now.
I was in a new world, yet I had been too calm during the day. Terrifyingly calm. I was never good at handling emotions in the first place.
These tears, this storm of emotions—they were the reserves I had unknowingly held back throughout the day.
During the day, I wasn't even mentally capable of feeling. The situation was beyond comprehension, and I couldn't process it.
But now…
I was still human.
Even amidst the breakdown, I felt a flicker of joy. I wasn't broken yet. I was alive. My situation was grim, yes—but I was still me.
The tears didn't stop. And I didn't care. Humans can only cry so much. When this batch ended, so would my sobs.
Slowly, my tears dried. My lungs steadied. My emotions remained unstable, but strangely, that instability became my anchor.
I was wide awake now, but not willing to leave my bed. I just waited—for what, I didn't know.
Eventually, the room grew lighter, though not fully bright. At some unknown point, I drifted back into sleep.
This time, it was real sleep.
When I woke again, there were no nightmares. No disturbances. I finally left the bed, took a bath, and prepared for my second day in this world.
I didn't know what lay ahead, or if I could even survive.
But still, I moved forward—toward the unknown.