Ignoring the pain and odd sensation he felt, he quickly ran towards the smaller and closer door of the two in the room, and immediately, without wasting another second, he swung it open and then took a deep sigh.
"Yup! It's definitely what I think it is!" he exclaimed as he stepped forward towards the rectangular mirror that hung over the washbasin.
His eyes locked onto the mirror, its surface reflecting brightly under the daylight, and while he continued staring at his own image, a smile slowly crept up on his face, then a curse slipped out, his hands tracing his face and body in a scanning motion.
"Damn! I am handsome!"
But stopping midway through, he paused, taking in another deep breath before breaking into a giggle.
"Hahaha! I have transmigrated into another world!"
He touched his face, chest, stomach and legs and then briefly ran his fingers through his matted hair. Each feature, in every fraction of their details, was different from what he could remember—since the last time he looked into a mirror, he clearly had a taller frame. Meanwhile, his build, though slender in mass, couldn't compare to the half-assed bulkiness he had carried before.
His long thick hair, which for the past twenty-plus years had been brown, was now a vibrantly dull ash grey; his pupils, which as far as one could recall were formerly tinted brown, had also changed to a complexion of dark deep orange, more commonly known as amber eyes'—they were a shade of brown with a golden or reddish-orange tint, almost appearing golden.
His sword-like eyebrows, thin nose and sharp jawline made his face look like that of celebrities and models, even though it was a little bruised.
'But why am I bruised?' He thought.
Still nude and facing the mirror, a cold chill wafted over him. Turning to his right, he noticed the windows of the bathroom were wide open.
The bathroom itself was humble and primitive but strangely refined. The rectangular, chipped mirror was nailed above a clay-moulded basin. To the side, demarcated by a knee-level partition, was a sectioned bathing area. Within it sat a hand-carved, tub-like shape moulded over a plastered stone floor, cleaner than anything he had at home or possibly ever would. It looked handmade, ancient… yet better.
Beside the tub, forming an L-shaped path that led around the corner and was closed off by another small partition, was a toilet. Though made of clay—as seen from its brownish-red texture—the scent that met him as he took in another breath was cleaner, sharper, and fresher than any of the modern, supposedly sanitised places he had visited in his former world.
The air itself felt… alive.
There was something distinct about it—from the freshness that registered in his lungs to the phantom sensation lingering at the back of his mind, one that told him this wasn't just another place. The stale, heavy feeling of polluted air? Gone. It was like his entire respiratory system had been detoxed the moment he breathed in.
There was no doubt about it.
He had entered—or rather, transmigrated—into another world, one way or the other.
Turning back to the mirror in front of him and scanning his body, he realised something.
"This is someone else's body."
'I entered—no, I took someone else's body and replaced them.'
'Someone else's child…'
He laughed again and, after taking another deep breath and briefly brushing over those thoughts, he returned to the room and sat on the ground with a puzzling look on his face, with a mind that generated more questions than he could answer.
'Are they the only ones in this place—living alone, or is it with a family?'
He tried something he had seen several times in novels and comics, attempting to recollect past body memories, but there were no previous memories, no knowledge before this. His mind was empty, except for everything from his life.
There were also no books around, as he searched briefly—no paper, scrolls, or even a jotting; there was nothing.
He laughed loudly and, after taking another deep breath, he returned to his room and sat on the ground with a puzzling look on his face.
"Hmm, should... I?"
"But according to the script, now is the time for someone to enter, be it friend or family... but could the previous person be a loner!?"
His thoughts wandered as he walked around the room and waited.
…
5 minutes passed
...
10 minutes passed
...
30 minutes passed
...
90 minutes passed...
His excitement dimmed down… No one had entered or tried looking for him; it was clearly midday as the sun shone high.
He knew he had stayed here for over two hours, and with the periodic thoughtless laughs he made, someone should have checked up on him—
"Someone should have checked up on me… Rather, my predecessor and with the laugh and all"
'I remembered my mum doing the same when my elder brother laughed like this.'
These were actions his parents and siblings did well enough; his elder brother in the previous world laughed awkwardly sometimes for no apparent reason. But here he was, waiting for it to happen and reflect.
…
Time passed, and nothing happened…
Finally, Fae gave up on waiting for someone and decided it was best he step out of the room and see if he lived alone or with someone.
*Growl*
Just as he was about to leave the room, his stomach growled loudly, snapping him back to the present. Only then did he realise how hungry he truly was.
Looking around, his eyes landed on a table nearby. Next to a pair of red candles—half-melted from previous use—sat a beautifully crafted calabash bowl. Inside were several peach-like fruits, their colours a vibrant blend of red fading into soft pink.
He picked one up, studying it closely. The fruit had an odd shape—almost like an avocado, but with a crown and stalk that ran down toward its center, shifting in colour from yellow to red, much like a McIntosh apple.
It shouldn't be poisonous... it's in my house, after all.'
Still unsure of what kind of fruit it was, he hesitated. The bright colouring made it hard to tell whether it was safe to eat—but hunger won. He took a small bite.
The taste hit him immediately—sour, crisp, and strangely familiar, just like a McIntosh apple. Finding it delicious, he quickly finished the rest, devouring all the fruits in the bowl without a second thought.
Though the portion was small and didn't completely satisfy his hunger, it was enough to ease the worst of it.
However, if he learnt that what he just ate was equal to 2 days' meals of his predecessor, he would not complain about not being satisfied at all.
*Knock* *Knock*
Coincidentally, just as he finished eating the last of the fruit and having dressed into one of the few pieces of clothing he'd found in the cupboard, a knock echoed through the house. It was sharp, harsh—condescending. The kind of knock that reminded him of his father coming home tired and irritated after a long day at work.
Without thinking, he rushed out of the room, a flicker of something in his chest. Was it his predecessor's parents?
But before he could reach the door—before he could even finish the thought—
Smash!
The door burst open with violent force, slamming against the wall as three rough-looking men stormed into the room.
'Why even bother knocking if you were just going to kick it open…' Fae thought bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his head lowered. But he knew better than to voice the sarcasm. Now wasn't the time for questions.
He was getting robbed.
"Have you decided to come with us?"
The question came from one of the men—a tall figure with a deep, jagged scar running down his face. Fae instinctively pegged him as the leader.
"…"
Fae looked up slowly, taking a deep breath. He didn't speak, but he met the man's eyes head-on, his expression calm, unreadable. There wasn't a flicker of fear in his gaze—only a growing swirl of questions about his current situation... and the one he'd inherited.
The scarred man frowned and glanced sideways at his companions. They, too, wore uncertain expressions.
He turned back to Fae, raising a brow.
"I said—have you decided to come with us?" he repeated, his voice firmer now, edged with rising irritation.
"Ehmmm… Of course!" Fae answered quickly, flashing a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.