Time: 10:30 AM
Date: April 12, 1928
Wednesday.
The sharp rays of sunlight streaming through the window stole my sleep away.
The moment the warmth touched my eyelids, I slowly opened my eyes.
For a few seconds, I tried to understand—
Where am I?
The place around me felt completely unfamiliar.
I was lying on a wooden cot—old, tied with woven jute ropes, the surface scraped and worn by age.
The bedsheet was thick, carrying a faint scent of dust.
The room was small—bamboo walls on all four sides, covered with a green mosquito net.
Thin lines of sunlight slipped through the gaps of the tin roof, falling in dotted patterns on the floor.
Whenever a mild breeze shook the roof, it made a rough rattling sound, like someone sighing from far away.
In one corner stood a small wooden table with a kerosene lamp and a half-finished cup of tea.
The air carried the scent of tea leaves mixed with the smell of damp earth—
a fragrance that made the silence of the countryside feel strangely mysterious.
When I looked outside through the window—
I saw green paddy fields where children were running around.
A red tin shed stood nearby, and a cow mooed lazily from inside.
A muddy footpath stretched across the fields, leading toward an unfamiliar hill in the distance.
Everything was peaceful, yet it felt like something was hidden beneath that peace—
a story, a calling… maybe the pull of that book.
I slowly sat up.
My head felt heavy, as if I was caught between dream and reality.
A question echoed in my mind—
Am I still in my own room… or inside the book?
Suddenly, a purple system bar opened right before my eyes.
It flashed—
"Welcome to The Greenery."
I froze.
Nothing made sense anymore.
The room, the air, even my own body felt unfamiliar.
My gaze instinctively fell on my arms—
and my breath hitched.
This… wasn't my body.
The hand I moved was no longer small and slender like before.
It was longer, muscular, the skin sunburnt with rough patches.
My chest felt broader, my voice deeper—
as if I had aged several years overnight.
I was no longer the sixteen-year-old boy I used to be.
I stood up slowly.
A small mirror hung on the wall near an old steel cupboard, its surface covered with a thin layer of dust.
With hesitant steps, I approached it.
And then… I froze.
The reflection staring back at me—
was me, yet not me.
Warm brown skin, shimmering with sunburned marks.
Black hair parted down the middle, long enough to touch the neck—messy yet strangely appealing.
A faint beard shadowed the lower part of the face, as if time had settled quietly on it.
The eyes were deep, sharp—
with dark circles beneath them,
eyes that had seen too much, lost too much,
holding a cold, emotionless stillness.
The body was lean yet firm,
the posture balanced—
neither overly attractive nor ordinary,
but possessing a silent presence that demanded attention without uttering a word.
He—no, I—looked around twenty-one or twenty-two.
The clothes weren't mine either.
A loose long-sleeved dark-blue shirt,
over it a short-sleeved pale-grey V-neck tunic—
like the outfit of an ancient warrior or traveler.
Dark blue trousers below, tied with a wide leather belt at the waist.
Tall leather boots reached up to my knees,
built for long, worn-out journeys.
Staring at the reflection, I felt something twist inside my chest.
Quietly, I whispered at the mirror—
"Who am I?"
My own voice sounded foreign—
deep, coarse,
as if someone else was speaking through me.
Questions swirled violently inside my head—
Did I really enter the book?
Whose body is this?
And the scariest question of all—
Am I still Jason…
or have I taken someone else's place?
Suddenly, a girl's voice called from outside the door—
sweet, hurried, filled with concern.
"Riven! Riven! Aren't you waking up? Daddy's shouting!"
The door rattled lightly.
Riven? Who's Riven?
And yet… the name felt strangely familiar,
as if it now belonged to me.
I slowly unlatched the door and stepped down the wooden stairs.
A new world opened before my eyes—
A large room lit with morning sunlight through wooden windows.
An old carpet on the floor,
and the warm smell of freshly cooked rice drifting in the air.
A girl sat by the window, reading a book.
There was a spark in her eyes—
as if those pages were her entire world.
She smiled softly, yet curiosity shone within her gaze.
Her name was Kelly—only fifteen.
Class five.
Fair skin, thick black hair falling along her shoulders,
green eyes—
as if the color of the fields lived inside them.
She wore a white-blue printed frock, reaching her knees.
Her hair was braided on both sides, tied with small blue ribbons.
A thin silver chain hung around her neck.
Kelly was Riven's younger sister—
lively, intelligent, and a little mischievous.
On the other side of the room sat an elderly man,
spectacles on his nose,
reading an old newspaper in silence.
Fatigue lined his face.
The radio beside him crackled with news:
" The Great leader John Raymond and his family were murdered by their eldest son, out of greed for property. He has now been arrested."
This was Steven Rei—Riven's father.
A former freedom fighter.
He had lost his leg in the war,
replaced by a wooden prosthetic that still carried the memory of battle.
Yet his eyes still held a glimmer of courage and pride.
He wore a black kurta and white pajamas.
Age had bent his body,
but his spirit remained steady.
A wheelchair stood beside him,
and he rested his hand on it with pride—
as if it, too, was part of his battlefield.
In the kitchen, a woman stood cooking,
the aroma of spices drifting with every stir—
as though she was cooking love along with the food.
Fair skin, brown hair tied in a bun, green eyes.
A light grey cotton saree with a thin red border wrapped around her.
A small bindi marked her forehead.
Iron bangles on her wrist, a simple necklace around her neck.
She radiated quiet strength and tenderness.
This was Riyana Rei, Riven's mother—
a simple housewife who hid all her worries behind her tired smile.
There was care on her face,
but her eyes held a silent fear—
as if she wondered how long she could carry the weight of this household.
Just then, a young man walked in.
A plain shirt, a bag over his shoulder,
confidence in his eyes.
He grinned and said—
"Well, the mighty lord finally wakes up!
We thought you'd sleep the whole day again!"
A ripple of laughter filled the room.
This was Raiyan Rei,
Riven's older brother—
a journalist,
the sole earner supporting the entire family.
Their father's disability and the responsibility of the household rested on his shoulders.
Yet there was no sign of exhaustion on his face—
only determination,
as if no matter what storm came,
he would not break.
I—Riven—stood at the center,
everyone spoke to me, knew me, cared for me…
yet I didn't recognize any of them.
Then something strange caught my eye—
beside each person, a faint glow appeared,
like a floating character description in a game.
Kelly Rei (Age: 15) – Curious, Intelligent, Reader
Steven Rei (Age: 61) – Ex-Freedom Fighter, Lost Leg in War
Raiyan Rei (Age: 28) – Journalist, Responsible, Determined
Riyana Rei (Age: 49) – Housewife, Caring, Gentle
I stared, stunned.
They talked, laughed, moved like normal people—
but all I could think was:
Who am I in this world?
Why am I here?
Outside, a gentle breeze rustled the tin roof.
Ripe mangoes thudded onto the courtyard,
and the warm smell of rice filled the room.
We all sat together for breakfast—
Kelly, Raiyan, Mother, Father… and me.
The table was filled with steaming rice, eggs, lentils, and mashed potatoes.
Mother wiped sweat from her forehead,
Kelly scooped rice too quickly,
and Father stared silently out the window.
Suddenly, he cleared his throat.
"Tell me… where is this country heading?"