Mahito slowly opened his eyes.
For a few moments, he thought he was still dreaming. The ceiling above him was clean and bright—nothing like the cracked roof of his old house.
He sat up on the bed and, still half-asleep, placed his feet on the floor.
His heart skipped a beat.
Both of his legs were working.
"No… this can't be real," he whispered.
He stood carefully, expecting pain or imbalance—but nothing happened.
His body felt whole. Strong. Alive.
Trembling, he walked toward the mirror.
And froze.
The reflection staring back at him was not Mahito.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome.
Eyes sharp, posture confident.
This was not the weak, broken boy he once was—it was someone else's life entirely.
*Who… am I now?*
Before he could process, a voice called from downstairs:
"Aman! You're getting late again. Hurry up!"
*Aman…?*
The door opened and a maid entered, holding a tray.
"Good morning, sir," she said politely,
placing a cup of tea on the table.
"Please get ready quickly. The car is waiting."
Mahito silently nodded, still in shock.
Soon, dressed in a neatly pressed uniform, he was seated in a luxury car, heading to school with a driver.
Everything felt unreal.
At school, reality hit even harder.
Girls glanced at him shyly, whispering to each other.
Some boys looked nervous, while others greeted him cautiously.
Aman's body carried respect, fear, and influence—he was known as a confident, gangster-type student.
*So this was his life…*
Mahito felt nervous inside, but kept his composure.
Soon, three boys approached him: Nobara, Kirito, and Ajavi.
As usual, they began mocking a skinny, poor boy named Kento.
His clothes were worn out, one of his shoes torn from the side.
Many students watched, but no one intervened.
Mahito's chest tightened painfully.
*This… this was me…*
Kirito suddenly grabbed Kento by the shoulder and shoved him slightly.
"Hey, Kento," he sneered,
"those torn shoes again? Since when did poverty become fashion?"
The boys around laughed cruelly.
Kento lowered his head, trembling, but said nothing.
"Why so quiet today?" Nobara mocked.
"Or did your voice disappear along with your money?"
Mahito's chest burned.
*The same scene… the same humiliation…*
Suddenly, Korochi stepped in, placing himself in front of Kento.
"That's enough," he said sharply.
"Stop this daily nonsense."
Kirito smirked.
"Oh? Since when did you become a hero?"
Then his gaze shifted to Mahito.
"So, Aman," Kirito said sarcastically,
"what's your reason for suddenly supporting him today?"
Mahito stepped forward calmly.
"Making fun of the weak," he said in a cold, steady voice,
"is the work of cowards."
The corridor went silent.
Kirito's face darkened with anger. He clenched his fist and stepped forward—
But Korochi turned sharply to Mahito.
"Wait," he said,
suspicion and confusion in his voice,
"How can you suddenly stand with us? The boy who bullies us every day… is now on our side?"
Korochi narrowed his eyes.
"There must be some trick behind this. You're planning something, aren't you?"
Mahito met his gaze.
"That's not true. I just… understand your pain—and Kento's too."
Kento froze, eyes wide in disbelief.
*The boy who bullied me every day… is defending me?*
Korochi's jaw tightened.
"Shut up. You can never understand our pain."
Kirito raised his hand, ready to strike Korochi—
"Stop."
Mahito stepped between them, voice firm and authoritative.
"Enough. Leave. Now."
Kirito stared for a moment, then lowered his hand and walked away silently.
Korochi watched Mahito carefully.
Still suspicious… but a small spark of trust had formed.
"For today," Korochi finally said,
"you can stay with us. But I'm not fully trusting you yet."
Mahito simply nodded.
Kento stood quietly, eyes shimmering with tears.
A small glimmer of hope appeared in his heart.
That day, Mahito, Kento, and Korochi sat down together for lunch.
Kento hesitated for a moment, looking at Mahito's lunch tray.
"Wow… your food… it's really delicious," he said, eyes wide.
"Maybe… maybe it's because you're rich or something?"
Mahito smiled faintly, a little embarrassed.
"I… I guess that could be it," he said quietly.
After a moment, Korochi leaned closer, his expression serious.
"You know," he said, voice low, "you handled that fight earlier… not carefully enough."
Mahito frowned.
"What do you mean? I just stopped Kirito from hitting you."
Korochi's gaze hardened.
"Kirito's brother… Bugun, he's a gangster. If he ever found out you interfered with Kirito, he'd make sure you got beaten badly."
Mahito felt a chill run down his spine.
Bugun? A gangster?
He swallowed hard, feeling a little nervous for the first time since waking in this new body.
Korochi glanced at Kento and then back at Mahito.
"Understand? Don't mess with him."
Mahito nodded silently, realizing the weight of the warning.
Kento watched quietly, shocked that the boy who bullied him daily had now become his protector.
No one else dared to say a word. The air was tense.
Even in Aman's strong body, Mahito realized that some people and situations carried real danger—and one wrong move could cost him dearly.
The day passed peacefully.
Kento shared his problems quietly—family struggles, money issues, and the daily fear he lived with.
Mahito listened silently.
*Somewhere… this is my own story.*
Korochi, however, continued observing him, still not fully convinced.
But far away, in a small, broken house…
Aman woke up.
He tried to stand—and fell hard to the floor.
Pain shot through his body.
He looked down and screamed.
"What the hell happened to me?!
Later that evening, Kirito stood by the window of a tall building.
The city sprawled beneath him, lights flickering across the streets.
He held his phone to his ear and called out sharply,
"Bugun…"
His eyes glinted with cold determination.
After a pause, he whispered almost menacingly,
"The game… is over, Aman."