"Bang!"
With the sound of impact, Kira only felt himself flying into the air.
Fatigue, blurred consciousness, and before he could feel any pain, darkness enveloped him.
"Hmph! Inhale, exhale, inhale... exhale~"
Kira suddenly sat up, breathing heavily, gasping for air.
Am I dead?
This question echoed in his mind.
As his thoughts returned, his brain gradually cleared.
The question then directly dissipated.
He could clearly feel that he was alive, not in a daze but fully awake.
Kira looked around; he was covered by a dark gray blanket.
Although he had just woken up with a start, there was no pain in his body, only a slight feeling of fatigue.
No, Kira didn't think his previous clear experience was a dream.
He had indeed been walking on the road and was hit by a dump truck, sending him flying.
That couldn't have been a dream; it was too real.
Even if it was a dream, taking a step back, he shouldn't be here.
This was a tent, with something like an oil lamp hanging above, but it seemed to be an electric light inside.
If it wasn't a dream, he should be at home.
If he was indeed hit, then he should be in a hospital.
But he wasn't here, in a tent.
That meant he was dead, and this was... the world after death?
Or had he transmigrated?
Although this possibility was extremely absurd, he had, after all, read too many similar works.
It was hard not to think in that direction.
Kira was about to reach out his hand to examine himself.
Suddenly, a slightly mature voice came from beside him.
"You're awake."
Kira sharply turned his head to look.
There had actually been someone beside him the whole time; perhaps it was because they hadn't made a sound before, or perhaps he was a bit dazed, but he hadn't noticed them.
This was a man probably between 30 and 40 years old, with slightly dark skin and a somewhat unkempt appearance, with half-shaved stubble visible.
He was wearing a thin white tank top, sitting casually cross-legged beside him.
In front of him, there was also a laptop that looked somewhat excessively bulky.
He held a razor in his hand, his brown eyes keenly fixed on him.
He seemed to have just shaved halfway, casually flipping the mirror in front of him to the side.
His gaze was on him, but the razor in his hand didn't stop, continuing to shave the stubble from his chin.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Kira, who had been observing, snapped back to attention and quickly nodded.
His gaze involuntarily drifted to the mirror beside him; due to the angle, there was just enough reflection to draw his attention.
Although the mirror was small, he could clearly see most of his face in it.
His body involuntarily twitched, his heart began to beat faster uncontrollably, and his hand instinctively went to touch his face.
Because the face in the mirror was not his own, nor was it a face he was familiar with, but a strange one.
When a person looks in a mirror and sees a face they don't recognize, it's like a scene from a horror movie; a moment of shock is inevitable.
His expression also changed drastically, uncontrollably.
"What's wrong? Do you need to rest a bit longer?"
The voice pulled Kira out of his fright.
He then came back to his senses, suppressing the discomfort in his heart, and said with a pale and troubled expression, "Sorry, I feel a bit off, hazy."
The man nodded, his chin now clean-shaven at some point, and he casually tossed the razor aside.
He opened his mouth and said, "It's normal. After all, when I found you at the bottom of the cliff, you were covered in blood."
As he spoke, he raised his chin.
Following the direction he indicated, in a corner of the tent, there was a pile of clothing.
Under the light, it was clearly visible that the clothes were stained everywhere with dried blood, as well as grass and mud.
Kira unconsciously fumbled over his own body.
He confirmed once again that this was not his body.
Then he discovered that there were no wounds on his body, and his body didn't hurt.
At least with such a brief check, there wouldn't be wounds that bled so much.
Not my blood? Or did transmigration and possession heal the wounds on this body?
Or did this person in front of him heal his injuries?
Is it that fast?
On second thought, since transmigration was possible, it didn't seem strange to have medicine that could instantly heal external injuries.
But the problem was, the environment of this tent didn't look much different from the era he lived in, perhaps a bit more retro.
Not to mention, the man in front of him had distinct Asian features.
Of course, it was also possible that the man in front of him was a retro enthusiast.
A strange environment, a situation similar to transmigration, possessing a strange body.
All of this pushed Kira's alertness to the extreme, his brain constantly working rapidly.
It could bring useful information, but it also brought some useless wild thoughts.
Coupled with various emotional impacts, he now seemed to an outsider to still be in a dazed state, his expression constantly changing, his whole reaction incredibly slow.
Perhaps because of what just happened, this time the man didn't urge him again but just watched Kira, observing him thinking about something.
As if seeing what Kira was thinking, he suddenly spoke again.
"It looked dangerous, but you didn't have any wounds on you, you just fainted."
"Ah, is that so? That's really good."
Kira didn't know what to answer.
He completely hadn't figured out where he was, what state he was in, or what his name was.
And there was a stranger beside him who had saved him.
He had no idea how to start a conversation.
"By the way, what's your name?" the man suddenly asked.
This question immediately stumped Kira.
Kira opened his mouth.
The person seemed to see his difficulty and added, "Oh, by the way, these are the identification and wallet you had on you. You've been unconscious for two days, so you must be hungry. Do you want something to eat?"
Kira reached out and took them, then nodded, smiling somewhat miserably, "I'm almost out of strength now, my head is dizzy from hunger."
"Haha, I thought so too, but since you've been unconscious for two days, you can only have some porridge. It's not because I'm stingy, haha."
He stood up and laughed, his smile looking somewhat hearty, and he himself seemed very easygoing.
Kira then noticed that the man's physique looked very well-proportioned; he couldn't be called small, but he couldn't be called burly either.
On his balanced body, relatively distinct muscle lines could be seen, but they didn't appear overly prominent or exaggerated.
The first impression he gave was one of balance and stability.
Speaking of which, Kira only now realized that the man looked somewhat unkempt; if he hadn't just shaved, the unkempt, casual feeling would be even more pronounced.
He was wearing work pants and thick-soled Martin boots on his lower body, and he lifted the tent flap and walked out.
After the man left,
Kira finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He quickly checked the identification bag in his hand.
What kind of writing is this?
The first problem he encountered immediately stunned him.
The font was like a combination of circles and horizontal and vertical lines, formed with black dots at different positions. The strokes were extremely simple, and it looked more like simplified icons than actual writing.
He couldn't recognize it at all.
Just as he was thinking this, he seemed to be able to understand the meaning expressed by the font.
His thoughts gradually cleared.
Some fragmented things appeared in his mind.
It turned out that he was also named Kevin.
Kevin Carpenberg.
As his emotions calmed, he realized how bad his performance had just been.
"But given my situation, such a performance should be normal, right?"
From the simple fragmented memories, he sensed something was amiss.
...
"His behavior just now... was truly abnormal to the extreme."
The man was squatting beside a small stove, staring at a small pot placed on it.
Inside, a liquid like rice porridge was boiling.
He had a cigarette lit in his hand.
He stared at the burning flame in front of him.
In his mind, he recalled the series of events inside the tent, from the moment Kevin woke up.
Everything seemed very, very abnormal, so what exactly was going on with him?
"I personally killed him."