Raven stretched his back, feeling the satisfying crack of joints that had grown accustomed to that shitty dormitory bed.
The purple screens had finally faded from his vision, leaving him with the overwhelming reality of his transformed body.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand—an old piece of crap that barely functioned, but it had UPI payment, which was all he needed for now.
"Time to get some clothes that actually fit," he thought, looking down at his shirt that strained against his newfound muscle mass. The fabric looked ready to tear with his next breath.
He slipped the phone into his back pocket and headed for the door. His college bag sat in the corner—he'd need that too.
At least having some savings from part-time jobs meant he could buy a few sets of clothes before figuring out his next move.
As he stepped into the narrow hallway of St. Helena's Orphanage, the familiar smell of boiled cabbage and old wood hit his nostrils.
This place had been his home for twenty years, but now it felt different.
Like he was seeing it through new eyes.
He made his way downstairs, his footsteps echoing against the worn wooden steps. The building creaked around him—fifty years of housing forgotten children had left their mark on every beam and floorboard.
"Where are you going, brat?"
The gruff voice made him pause just as he reached the front entrance. Raven turned around, a chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head.
Old Man Kozlov sat hunched over a small wooden table in what passed for the orphanage's common area.
The guy had to be pushing seventy, with wild gray hair and thick glasses that made his eyes look like bug eyes. But what made Raven nearly burst out laughing was what the old bastard was reading.
There he was, bold as brass, with a porn magazine spread open on the table.
The cover showed some blonde with her tits practically spilling out of a tiny bikini, and Kozlov was studying it like it contained the secrets of the fucking universe.
Even more ridiculous was the scene around him.
Three kids, maybe eight to ten years old, sat at the same table eating bowls of some gray slop that barely qualified as food.
They were completely focused on drawing with broken crayons, not bothering to lift their heads even as their "father figure" openly perused softcore porn right next to their breakfast.
"Never thought I will feel good seeing this place again," Raven thought, watching the surreal domestic scene—especially how, until this age, due to having no resources and even working hard to get a scholarship, studying just with the aim to leave this place and live in his own apartment or afford a good life had made him view this place, which was once his home, a prison.
One of the kids—a skinny boy with dirt-smudged cheeks—finally glanced up from his drawing. "Big bro, shouldn't you be leaving the orphanage and going on your way?"
The casual way he said it, like he was asking about the weather, made Raven give a blank look as nostalgia hit him. These kids had seen so many older orphans come and go that his departure was just another Tuesday to them.
Though the boy said it in a way as if he wanted him to leave, he knew that guy would be the first one to miss him. Or maybe not. After all, they had all adjusted in a way where they knew others were going to leave one after another.
"I'll leave tomorrow," Raven replied, surprised by how attached he suddenly felt to this shithole.
Strange how facing death in another world could make even a place once considered one of the worst feel like home.
Old Man Kozlov's head snapped up from his magazine at the sound of Raven's voice. Those magnified eyes behind the thick glasses went wide as dinner plates.
"It's good to see you've finally grown up," the old man said slowly, his voice carrying a weird note of... pride? Approval? Hard to tell with this crazy old man.
"I just turned twenty years old this year, gramps," Raven shot back, crossing his arms. "What took you so long to notice?"
But as he spoke, his gaze drifted to the magazine in Kozlov's weathered hands. The centerfold was another Asian woman flashing her underboob, nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of her top.
"Kids are watching, gramps," Raven said, nodding toward the three children who were still scribbling away with their crayons.
Kozlov coughed loudly and quickly flipped the magazine closed, his face turning red. But then he looked up at Raven again, and his expression shifted to complete confusion.
"Who are you?" he asked, squinting through his glasses like he was trying to bring Raven into focus.
"It's me," Raven replied, fighting back another chuckle. "Did you forget? Maybe it's your glasses issue."
The kids finally looked up from their drawings, and their reactions were instant and dramatic.
"?!?"
"Woah—!" Three pairs of eyes went as wide as Kozlov's, their mouths hanging open like they'd just seen a ghost.
"Where is our big bro?" the skinny boy stammered, his broken crayon falling from his fingers. "Who are you?"
The transformation was that dramatic.
Where once stood a scrawny, unremarkable college bookworm, now stood what looked like a fucking fitness model.
Broad shoulders, defined arms visible even through his too-tight shirt, a face that belonged on magazine covers rather than in this rundown orphanage.
"At least charm isn't too much," Raven realized, seeing their shocked faces that definitely didn't make their words stick in their throats, giving every assurance that he was not more charming than their minds could process.
"It's really me, you little shits," he said, but there was warmth in his voice, keeping it casual even though his mind seemed so much changed—yet even if acting, he needed to act like his old self, to not just appear but sound strange as well. "Just... hit a growth spurt."
The girl among the three—maybe nine years old with pigtails—pointed at him with a shaky finger. "Big bro got... pretty?"
"Handsome," corrected the third kid, a chubby boy who was staring at Raven like he'd witnessed a miracle. "Big bro got really handsome."
Old Man Kozlov was still squinting at him, confusion written all over his wrinkled features. "Your voice sounds the same, but your face... did you get plastic surgery, boy?"
"Now that I think about it..." It was as if, seated there, due to his mind much more clear rather than enforced by emotions, he recalled that something happened today, exactly on this date. It was this old man getting a heart attack.
And as he recalled why he got one, Raven exhaled and slowly stood, grabbing a piece of bread from the table.
"I'm heading out," he announced, tucking the bread into his jacket pocket.
He turned toward the door, but the sound of car engines made him pause.
Through the grimy windows, he could see several black sedans pulling up to the orphanage.
Expensive cars—the kind that didn't belong in this neighborhood.
"Finally, let's find out about their young miss," Raven thought. He ate the bread, cleaning his hand by rubbing it on his chest as he stood there seeing the car doors slammed shut outside.
Heavy footsteps approached the entrance, and then the front door burst open with a bang that made the kids jump and clutch their crayons tighter.
Six men in dark suits filed into the small common area, their presence immediately making the space feel cramped and dangerous.
They moved with the kind of swagger that screamed hired muscle—broad shoulders, cold eyes, and the unmistakable bulges of weapons beneath their jackets.
The leader stepped forward, a tall bastard with a scar running down his left cheek and eyes like chips of ice.
His gaze swept the room before locking onto Raven with predatory focus.
"You," he growled, reaching into his jacket.
The metallic click of a gun being cocked echoed through the suddenly silent room.
Old Man Kozlov scrambled backward, clutching his porn magazine to his chest like a shield, while the kids huddled together in terror.
The gun's barrel pressed against Raven's temple, cold steel that made his skin crawl.
"Listen up, pretty boy," the scarred thug snarled, his breath reeking of cigarettes and stale coffee. "We heard you've been sniffing around our young miss. Flirting with her, making her uncomfortable... do that next time and you will be ten feet under the ground alive. "