Screams and applause thundered through the grand hall. Cameras flashed. Reporters swarmed me like vultures, each desperate for a soundbite, a smile, anything. They didn't even pretend to respect personal space—how ironic for a "secular, civilized society" that prided itself on progress. First-world manners? Please.
As I stepped onto the stage—an honor I'd never imagined—I muttered under my breath:
"Companies are already calling, back-channel requests to build nuclear plants from my designs… even though I haven't published a word. Unless someone digs up my hidden papers."
I'd gone "old school" on that—buried every last blueprint in the depths of an abandoned well in Sudan. Crazy, right?
Even if the world were collapsing, I thought, people would still claw for profit.But why?Money doesn't last forever.
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers:
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our guest of honor—the man whose work will power our future…Steven Clark!The visionary who unlocked limitless, clean energy for generations to come!"
I forced a polite smile as the crowd applauded. Leeches, all of them—glued to me for favors, for influence. I half expected an assassin's blade. You know, just routine at this point.
From the corner of my eye I saw him: a towering figure in a black suit, easily 6'5″ with long, dark hair and a faint swirl of expensive cologne drifting around him. He approached, award in hand—a sleek crystal statuette etched with my name.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the recipient of tonight's Global Innovation Prize… Steven Clark!"
My chest tightened as I took the award. Raising the microphone, I forced a polite smile and spoke into the hush:
"Thank you. Tonight, I'm humbled to stand here before you.Science is not some lofty idol—it's a tool to explore the wonders created by God.We must be grateful for the life and opportunity He's given us, for without His grace, none of this would exist."
I blinked in surprise. In the front row sat Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and—of all people—Kim Jong Un, their eyes fixed on me as if I held their futures in my palm.
Well, I thought, looks like the world's real power brokers want a piece of this.
If only I could tear myself away from politics long enough to build something that truly mattered…
Magic.Man, magic would've been great—just like in the anime and manhwa I used to binge. It's been a while since I read any. Maybe I should go back...
Anyway, as you'd expect, I gave one hell of a speech—two hours long, just to piss off a few bloated egos in the front row. Petty? Maybe. Satisfying? Extremely.
As I finally wrapped things up and turned toward the back exit, a wave of reporters surged forward, desperate for one last scoop.
"Sir Steven—!" one of them called out. A woman with perfectly curled hair and a rehearsed voice. "We had a question—when will you be revealing your research to the public?"
Everything froze.
My footsteps, the hallway chatter, even the security guard mid-chew on his gum. The silence was thick.
I turned my head, slowly, and gave her a crooked, violent smirk.
"Don't worry.Science isn't meant to be monopolized.It's meant to be shared—spread wide, to reach new minds… whether they deserve it or not."
What a stupid question.
Of course I'm not revealing it.I'd rather die with the knowledge locked in my skull than hand it to vultures in suits.
I only did this—all of this—because I love science. Because I needed to understand the shape of reality... and the limits of the human mind.
What if magic was real?
Would it follow the laws of physics? Or rewrite them entirely?
I didn't linger on the thought. I just slipped through the back exit, down the corridor, praying—just once—I could walk away without being stopped.
Naturally, I was wrong.
At the end of the hallway, standing like a final boss before the exit sign, was Elon Musk himself.
His suit was rumpled, his hair looked like he combed it with a balloon, and he wore that trademark confused half-smile—like he wasn't sure if he was in a tech summit or a Pokémon convention.
He stuttered a bit, doing that Elon thing, before speaking.
"Uhh, Steven, hey—so… nuclear fusion, huh? That's, um, that's big. Like, really big.I've been thinking… what if we like, uh, use that tech to, um, power Mars colonies? You know, clean radiation—space juice, basically."
He blinked, paused, and pointed at the award in my hand.
"Also, that trophy—do you think it could, uh, double as a power cell? Just a thought."
I stared at him.
"Elon, for the love of quantum symmetry—no."
And with that, I pushed past him.
Of all the idiots who could've stopped me… he had to show up.
Not that I have anything against Elon—it's just that I've never needed his help. And frankly, I'd prefer not to be roped into one of his half-baked Mars fantasies.
Mars? Please.
Give me a fraction of his funding and I could build a better company than SpaceX in my backyard. It's not about capability—it's corruption. Profits. Greed. That's what plagues the human mind.
Tragic, really.
Not for me though.
I finally made it to my Toyota Camry—yeah, I know. Old car. Outdated model. But people forget: scientists aren't the rich type. Not the real ones, anyway. We pour our souls into research, not revenue.
Just as I slid into the driver's seat, the sky darkened. Clouds rolled in, heavy and ominous, like a warning whispered through the atmosphere.
Then came the rain.
Hard, sharp, soaking rain.
Perfect.
I exhaled as the drops slammed against the windshield, drowning out the static of the world. At least I made it inside just in time.
Now it was time to head home.
Not like anyone was waiting for me there. No wife, no kids. Just silence and a fridge full of experiments, leftovers, and a disturbing amount of energy drinks.
What should I watch tonight?Maybe binge something. Cool off. Reset before another drag of a day pulls me back into the spiral.
Nights were strange like that.
They're the pause button between two exhausting, torturous stretches of life.A breath between storms.
And tonight...Felt like something was changing in that breath.
About a mile out from the convention center, that same thought snuck back into my head—uninvited, like a rerun on a broken TV.
What if magic was real?
Not stage tricks. Not illusions.Actual, real-deal, law-bending magic.How would it work? Would it follow physics? Or rewrite the very rules we thought governed the universe?
I shook my head.
No use entertaining it, I told myself.It's not like I'm gonna get hit by a truck and transmigrate to another world or some cliché like that.
Right?
...Right?
Let's not jinx it.I hate those types of stories anyway.Seen 'em too many times in anime.
Guy dies → wakes up in a new world → becomes the chosen one → and somehow all the girls want him.
Pfft. Unrealistic.
I adjusted the rearview mirror. My eyes met my own reflection, tired and skeptical. I looked like a man who had seen the end of the world and decided it just wasn't worth the paperwork.
Just another day.
Just another drive.
Just another— What the hell is that?!
Something blurred across the sky—fast. Too fast for anything man-made.
The car shook. The streetlights flickered.
As I turned the wheel to make a right—just inches from the corner—
BAM.
Headlights.
Too close.Too fast.Too wrong.
"What the—!?"
A truck—a goddamn truck—barreled straight down the wrong lane like it had a personal vendetta.
The very trope I jinxed, the very cliché I mocked just minutes ago—Truck-kun.
And this bastard wasn't swerving.
No brakes.No hesitation.It was aiming for me.
CRASH.
Metal screamed.Glass shattered like gunshots.Time folded in on itself.
I remember the force hitting me first. Not pain. Just pressure. Like the world itself sucker punched my soul.
I remember the windshield exploding in a thousand shards of burning light.
I remember silence.Then sound.Then blood.
Lots of blood.
I couldn't breathe. My lungs were full of glass and fire.
Sirens wailed in the distance, but my ears were already tuning them out.
This... this wasn't an accident.
People were shouting around me, blurred faces moving like ghosts through smoke. Phones out. Cameras flashing. Of course.
Some were trying to help.Others just stared.
Paramedics finally pushed through the chaos.
One of them cursed under his breath as he saw me.
"We need pressure here—he's losing too much! Get the defib ready!"
I could feel it.Life slipping away like sand through cracked fingers.
A reporter muttered behind the line, "Was this a hit job? Or just a freaking accident?"
Neither, I wanted to say.It was Mr. Truck-Kun... and he never misses.
I coughed.
Blood painted my lips crimson.
Above me, the sky churned. Clouds twisted tighter, collapsing in on themselves like a closing fist.The darkness deepened, swallowing even the streetlights.
As I faded away—like the clouds thinning after a storm—I thought to myself:
Man... I wish I had lived a decent life. A life with a family that cared, a world that truly appreciated my knowledge, my value.
Or maybe that was the point.
Chasing after human praise, after shallow recognition... it's nonsense.
Thank God I believed in Him.Not science, not people. Just Him.
If I were to live once more... maybe a world of magic would've been better.At least there, the laws are known to bend.
I drifted off—away from the United States, away from Africa, away from Europe.I died.Just like any other sentient being.No matter who or what you are... everything is predetermined by God.
As everything turned dark, I whispered to the silence:
I guess conscience doesn't die with you... or am I not dead yet?
Suddenly—screams.
Yelling. Loud. Sharp. Piercing.Voices rising like alarms in a world I didn't recognize.
I woke up—flat on the floor, lying stiff like a corpse.
Am I...?
I blinked. Looked around.
I was in a classroom.Wooden floors. Strange lighting. Uniformed students. Ten at most. Ages between twelve and sixteen. All staring at me like they'd just seen a ghost—or a miracle.
Weird…
I slowly sat up.
"Did I just… transmigrate?"