I'm Kri B. Shang. Seventeen years old. Invisible to the world.
School isn't where I learn—it's where I survive.I drift through the halls like a ghost. No one sees me. Except the ones who want to hurt me.
Academics? I try. But lectures blur into white noise, and my grades reflect the emptiness inside.Sports? I'm the kid who gets hit with the ball, not the one who throws it.Friends? None. Just silence. Just isolation.
And then there's Tatsuki. The school's apex predator.He doesn't bully for reasons—he does it because he can. Because people like me don't fight back.
Every day, I sit alone at lunch, picking at cold food while laughter echoes around me like a language I never learned.Most days, I wish I were someone else. Stronger. Smarter. Worth something.
Lately, though, a strange thought creeps in:What if this isn't the end of my story?
Present
The wind is gentle.
I stand on the 15th-floor terrace of the school building. The setting sun paints the sky in warm golds and soft purples. For a fleeting moment, the world feels... quiet.
"What a view," I whisper, letting the breeze wrap around me like a blanket I never had.
Then I hear it—footsteps.
My body tenses. I already know who it is.
Three boys step onto the terrace. Tatsuki leads them. That smug walk, that cruel grin—it's him.
"There you are, Shang," he says, voice dripping with mockery. "Our favorite punching bag."
My stomach twists. I step back—straight into the railing. Nowhere left to run.
"Come on, we're just having fun," he smirks.
The first punch lands. Hard. My knees buckle.
They laugh. Another hit. A kick to the ribs. I collapse, the cold floor pressing into my skin, the warmth of the sunset now a cruel contrast to the pain.
"Stop!" I cry out, voice cracking. "Please, I'm sorry! I didn't do anything!"
Tatsuki crouches, breath hot against my ear."Exactly. You didn't do anything. You never do."He grins. "That's why it's fun."
I don't know what snaps inside me. Maybe it's rage. Maybe it's that flicker of defiance I've been clinging to.
I swing.
Bad move.
Two of them grab me and slam me against the railing. The metal groans. The wind howls. I look down—fifteen stories. Nothing but sky and concrete.
"Let me go!" I shout, struggling—but they're too strong.
One push. One slip.
Time stops.
My feet lose grip. My body tips.
And I fall.
The world spins.
Sky above. Concrete below. Wind tearing at my skin.
For a heartbeat, I feel weightless. Then gravity yanks me toward the earth like a cruel joke.
I think of Mom.
Her laugh. Her hugs. The warmth of her hands brushing my hair as I cried myself to sleep. She was the only person who ever made me feel human.
I think of all the things I never said. The people who never cared. The pain that never stopped.
Then—impact.
A sickening crunch. White-hot pain. Then… silence.
I'm lying in a pool of blood. Sirens in the distance. Screams.
Faces gather around me, blurred and pale. Some stare in shock. Some cry. Phones hover. No one moves.
I can't move.
I can't feel.
"I guess this is it," I think. "Maybe... that's okay."
My life—seventeen years of being invisible, unloved, broken.Maybe this is what I deserve. A tragic ending to a life barely lived.
Tears slide down my cheeks.
"Mom... wait for me," I whisper. "I'm coming to see you again."
The cold seeps into my bones.
And then—
Darkness.
Not cold. Not hot.
Just... nothing.
A peaceful void. No pain. No fear. Just endless black.
And then—
Light.
A warm, golden glow pierces the void. I hear a voice—feminine, urgent. Another follows—deep, calm.
I try to move, but something's wrong.
My arms are tiny. My legs… short?
"What…?"
Two figures hover above me. A man and a woman. Their language is foreign, but their faces radiate love.
The man lifts me effortlessly."What the...? I'm 63 kilos—wait. No. I'm not anymore."His voice is soft. "Our baby boy is quite handsome."
"Indeed he is," the woman smiles.
Baby?
No. No way. Don't tell me—
I look down at myself. Tiny fingers. Soft skin. My mouth won't form words.
"I've been reincarnated," I realize. "Into another world. Into a baby's body."
The man gazes at me."Aries," he says, eyes shining. "We'll name him Aries."
"Aries Valemont," the woman echoes, as if speaking destiny itself.
Their language doesn't make sense. But somehow, I understand them. I feel their love.
A little girl peers over the crib.
"Is that my little brother, Dad?"
"Yes, sweetheart," the man says warmly. "That's your baby brother."
She claps with excitement. Her smile... it's pure.
I lie in the woman's arms—my mother now—and something strange happens.
For the first time in years... I feel wanted.
I feel safe.
This life won't be like the last.
This time, I'm not starting from nothing. I have a family. A name. A chance.
Maybe this time, I can become something more.