The driver slammed the brakes, but it was already too late. He never expected his clutch to seize up in the express lane or the green light to flash red in an instant.
Crossing the road at that very moment was a tall college student. He wore a lazy mix of casual wear thrown over a black work uniform. Just as the light changed, he lowered his head, adjusting his earphones without a care in the world. But by the time he stepped into the mid-lane, something clicked. Awareness hit.
An office worker nearby dashed forward, yelling, trying to yank him back—but it was too late. The student had delivered himself into the path of an oncoming truck on a road that had been, just seconds ago, perfectly clear.
"Ugggh! A truck? I knew I wanted to commit suicide, but—I didn't mean it literally! I only wrote that in my prayer request because I thought it'd sound edgy and funny, not like a serious cosmic order!"
"HONK! HONK!"
Tyres screeching.
BAM.
"Fuck! It hurts!"
Fae, the 17-year-old student who was hit by the truck, felt his whole body sear in indescribable pain, It didn't take much time for his body to fall limply on the ground; smushed like paste has innards spelt, his eyes turned heavy as they rolled to his back; he did try to keep them open but couldn't bear it anymore, and soon, his consciousness faded away.
"Someone is dying."
"Call the ambulance."
...
"Hwa!"
Fae's whole body jolted as he woke up, breath catching in his throat.
"Was that… a dream?" he muttered, his chest heaving. Sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking into his eyebrows as he sat upright. Something—something—had left him. It wasn't physical, but it felt like a tether had been cut. A strange emptiness lingered in its place, and it made his skin crawl.
He furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of the images still fresh in his mind.
"I remember dying," he whispered. "But… was it just a dream?"
His eyes scanned his surroundings.
This wasn't his room.
Gone were the familiar concrete walls and painted surfaces. Instead, the room was made entirely of worn wooden bricks, the kind that looked like they'd been hand-carved ages ago. Any paint that might've once coated them had long since faded, leaving behind a dull, weathered texture.
The room was clean, yes—but spartan. The furniture looked like it had been repurposed a dozen times over. The air smelled faintly of herbs and smoke. Whoever lived here didn't have much, that much was clear. It was the kind of place you'd expect in a village, not a city. Not his city.
His pulse quickened.
"Where the hell… am I?"
"Someone is dying."
"Call the ambulance."
...
"Hwa!"
Fae's whole body jolted as he woke up, breath catching in his throat.
"Was that… a dream?" he muttered, his chest heaving. Sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking into his eyebrows as he sat upright. Something—something—had left him. It wasn't physical, but it felt like a tether had been cut. A strange emptiness lingered in its place, and it made his skin crawl.
He furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of the images still fresh in his mind.
"I remember dying," he whispered. "But… was it just a dream?"
His eyes scanned his surroundings.
This wasn't his room.
Gone were the familiar concrete walls and painted surfaces. Instead, the room was made entirely of worn wooden bricks, the kind that looked like they'd been hand-carved ages ago. Any paint that might've once coated them had long since faded, leaving behind a dull, weathered texture.
The room was clean, yes—but spartan. The furniture looked like it had been repurposed a dozen times over. The air smelt faintly of herbs and smoke. Whoever lived here didn't have much; that much was clear. It was the kind of place you'd expect in a rural village area, not a city. Not his city.
His pulse quickened.
"Where the hell… am I?"
Of course, Fae didn't have the luxury of time to process everything. Panic had already set in, overtaking any attempt at rational thought that could be had.
'Was I… kidnapped?' That was the first thought that hit him.
No. That didn't make any sense. He wasn't exactly the type to be worth ransoming—no rich parents, no shady connections, nothing.
'There's no merit in kidnapping me…'
But then—the accident.
The truck.
The road and traffic.
'Wait… does that mean it wasn't a dream?'
'Was I really hit by that truck?'
His thoughts spiralled out of control as he tried to piece things together. He raised a shaky hand to his forehead and felt a strange bump— tender and slightly swollen.
'Did I get hit? Am I in the mortuary? Or… did someone save me?'
'Am I in someone's house?'
Yeah… that had to be it. Someone must've found him and brought him here.
"Damn… Now I'll have to pay hospital bills."
He groaned and buried his face in his hands.
'If I knew this would happen, I would've subscribed to health insurance… though that might be pointless in this economy anyway.'
Fae cried inwardly, already imagining a future filled with late shifts, quick cheap meals, and saying farewell to all his games, novels, and "necessary" subscriptions. He'd have to work overtime, juggle school, and somehow still keep up with the self-reformation routine after this accident he'd only just incidentally incurred.
But then, something else hit him.
Something was wrong.
Not just "hospital bills" wrong.
Very wrong.
At first, it was a subconscious feeling, a nagging sense he hadn't been able to pinpoint. But now, thinking clearly for a moment, he looked straight and noticed his hands. They were paler, thinner and longer.
He then looked down and observed that he wasn't wearing anything; he was bare-butt nude with certain parts of his body bandaged and stitched.
His legs on the bed he lay on were wrapped in thick, soft fur sheets like primitive bedding from the medieval age.
"Okay… what the actual—"
His heart skipped a beat while he touched his face—his chin was framed by long, flowing hair. And his usual patchy, unshaven beard stubble? Gone. Completely smooth. Even the shape of his jaw felt… off and very different.
"Hold on—hold on—wait—WAIT—"
Panic. Not the screaming kind. The "spiralling down your own brain…" kind took control. Suddenly, a whole new theory appeared in his mind as he tried making sense of this, and a weary, gripping fear welled within him.
'Hehe... is this... what I think it is?"
"Did I transmigrate?"
"Is this an isekai?"
"No. Wait. Is that even a real thing?"
"Am I dreaming?"
"This isn't fiction."
"Or—what if it is fiction, and I'm just a side character in someone else's dream?"
"OH GOD. WHAT IF I'M THE DREAM?'
He knew many concepts similar to those from novels and media. Some from graphic novels, novels, light/webnovels, and some comics. He knew of the concepts of reincarnation and transmigration, but these weren't from those…
From ancient times to even late modern ages, many religions and prophecies spoke of reincarnation after death or those that spoke of spirits taking control of a body, but though he read of them, these esoteric things didn't seem feasible…
But now, were the sciences wrong?