The first thing Noah Reed felt when he woke up… was warm.
Soft.
Wrapped up in a cocoon of heavy blankets that smelled vaguely like laundry detergent and teenage boy.
For one brief, fuzzy second, he thought, Maybe that truck thing was a dream.
Then he opened his eyes.
The room he was in was both familiar and completely alien.
A cracked window let in pale morning sunlight, throwing lazy beams across the walls.
Movie posters and random stickers were haphazardly slapped onto the peeling paint.
And the floor…
The floor was a battlefield.
Socks, shirts, an old pair of sneakers, even a random backpack sat scattered everywhere like casualties of a particularly violent tornado.
Only the bed itself was untouched and pristine.
Like a king's throne in the middle of a war zone.
Noah stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, letting it all sink in.
'Disorganized as hell,' he thought. 'At least that part's consistent.'
He sat up slowly, the blanket sliding off his shoulders, and rubbed at his face.
'Okay… not dead anymore. Good start.'
Before he could stand, a loud thump sounded at the door, followed by a muffled curse.
"Noah! Get up!" a woman's voice called through the wood, strained with effort.
The door creaked open halfway, as if something was blocking it — probably the laundry mountain — and a hand shoved through the gap, waving frantically.
"You hear me? You need to get ready! We're driving to your aunt's today, remember? New city, new school, all that important life stuff?"
Noah blinked.
Right.
It was coming back to him now.
He wasn't Ryan anymore.
He was Noah Reed — a college kid, freshly accepted into a university across the state.
His mom had decided it was better for him to move early, stay with his aunt for a month, and "get used to the neighborhood" before the semester officially started.
Today… was moving day.
And judging by the mess around him, past-Noah hadn't exactly been planning ahead.
The woman outside the door — his mom, he realized with a weird little jolt — sighed loudly.
"And why is your room still a disaster? We're leaving in like an hour! I swear, if you make us late—!"
'Yup,' Noah thought grimly. 'Definitely a mom.'
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing as his foot landed in something suspiciously sticky.
"Coming!" he called out, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end.
There was a final huff from the hallway, then the sound of retreating footsteps.
Noah stood up fully, wobbling slightly.
His body felt… different.
Not in a bad way.
Just newer.
Smoother joints.
More energy.
Less of the lingering aches he'd gotten used to in his old life.
He shuffled over to the tiny cracked mirror hanging over a battered dresser and studied his reflection.
Light brown hair, messy and sticking up in every direction.
Sharp jawline.
Kind of slim, but with a little definition under the baggy T-shirt.
Not bad, honestly.
He looked like a guy who could land in the "handsome but needs to get his act together" category.
'System really wasn't kidding about giving me a decent appearance upgrade,' He thought, turning his head side to side.
A tiny ping sounded in his head.
[SYSTEM NOTICE:]
[Daily Motivation: "Looking good is half the battle. Looking confident is the other half. You're halfway to success!"]
Noah squinted at the invisible pop-up, then waved it away like a bad infomercial.
One disaster at a time.
He stumbled through the room, grabbing random clothes and stuffing them into a half-open duffel bag.
T-shirts, hoodies, jeans — who cared if they were folded?
Not him.
There was a knock on the door again, gentler this time.
"You need help packing?" his mom called.
"No! I got it!" Noah yelled back, wrestling a stubborn sneaker free from under the bed.
There was a beat of silence, then a soft chuckle.
"Alright, Mr. Independent. Breakfast's ready when you're done."
Noah paused, blinking.
It hit him, in a slow, creeping way — the warmth behind her words.
The kind of easy, casual care you only got from someone who actually loved you.
In his old life, Ryan had grown up mostly alone.
Busy parents, distant relatives, the usual.
Here… it was different.
Even if the room was a mess and the day was already chaotic, there was something solid and comforting underneath it all.
Maybe this life won't be so bad after all, he thought, shouldering the duffel bag.
…
Ten minutes later, he stumbled into the cramped kitchen, trying not to trip over the boxes piled up near the front door.
His mom stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand.
She looked younger than he'd expected — maybe early forties, if that — with dark hair tied up in a messy bun and soft lines at the corners of her eyes from years of smiling.
She also had massive tits!
"Sit," she said, without looking.
Noah obeyed automatically, sliding into a chair at the tiny round table.
A plate of pancakes landed in front of him a moment later, along with a glass of orange juice.
He stared at the food like it was a trap.
His mom noticed and laughed.
"Eat, Noah. It's not poisoned."
Noah grabbed a fork and dug in gratefully.
After a few bites, he glanced up.
"Uh… about my room…" he started.
She waved a hand dismissively.
"I'll deal with it after you're gone. Just focus on settling in with your aunt, alright?"
Noah nodded, swallowing another mouthful.
Right.
His aunt.
New city.
New college.
New life.
And somewhere along the way, apparently, he was supposed to "bond" with lonely, beautiful older women to level up.
You know, totally normal college student stuff.
Noah sighed.
At least he wasn't starting completely from scratch.
By noon, the car was packed.
Suitcases, boxes, a battered laptop bag — everything he owned, crammed into the backseat of a dusty old sedan.
Noah hugged his mom awkwardly at the curb, trying not to get choked up.
She squeezed him tight anyway.
"Call me when you get there," she said, pulling back to fix his hair with a spit-dampened thumb.
"Mom, stop," Noah muttered, but secretly, he didn't mind.
She smiled and stepped back, waving as he slid into the passenger seat.
The driver's door opened, and a tall woman with sharp cheekbones and wild auburn hair leaned in.
"Ready to hit the road, kid?" she said, tossing him a grin.