Inside a large gym, a crowd gathered around a body lying on the floor.
"Is he okay?"
"Damn, did you see that? He got rocked so hard."
"Hahaha, that's what he gets for staring at that girl's ass."
"You were looking too—admit it."
"Someone should call an ambulance."
"Wait—look, he's waking up."
Rowan opened his eyes slowly. Faces stared down at him. He saw bright lights, workout machines, and water bottles scattered nearby.
'Wait… why am I not dead?'
The last thing he remembered was being burned alive by those men. He could still feel the phantom heat on his skin.
He pushed himself up on his elbows. The crowd stepped back slightly. He looked around, a high-ceilinged hall, mirrors, treadmills, people in athletic wear.
'Am I famous or something?'
Just as he thought that, a sharp pain shot through his head. Images and feelings rushed into his mind. A different life. A different Rowan.
'I… transmigrated? Or did I inherit the memories of a famous wife and mother-fucker?'
He sat there, confused. Two sets of memories clashed in his mind. One was of a world with magic and jealous husbands. The other was of this world, poverty, some kind of machines, and a man with a dumbbell.
'So who's in control? Maybe we merged—and that's why I feel like his life is my life… even though I don't know which life I'm talking about.'
But the identity from the magical world felt stronger. More vivid. More real.
Looking around again, he understood why everyone had gathered. Before their souls merged, this Rowan, a "personal trainer", had been training a woman for the past week. Today, her boyfriend came in angry. He accused Rowan of touching her inappropriately.
While Rowan tried to reason, the man was on a different timing. He grabbed a dumbbell and swung. The impact was the last thing this body remembered.
'Man… it seems even in this life I can't escape jealous men.'
He shook his head, a small smirk forming.
'I mean, if you have a beautiful woman, of course I want her too. Why would you assume you're the only one who can see her beauty?'
Slowly, he got to his feet. The crowd watched, some concerned, some amused.
"You good, man?" someone asked.
Rowan nodded. "I'm fine."
But inside, he wasn't fine. He was two people in one body. And both of them had the same problem.
' Jealous men'
The crowd dispersed slowly, people returning to their workouts or glancing back occasionally. One man stayed, John, the manager. He gestured toward his office with a short nod. "Come with me."
Rowan followed, his steps heavy but steady. Inside the office, John gestured for him to sit before closing the door behind them. The room was small, cluttered with papers, trophies, and a few framed photos of the gym's early days. John took his seat across from Rowan, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the desk.
"Look, Rowan," John began, his tone firm but not unkind. "I like you. I knew your father, that's why I helped you. But you've got to work with me here. This is the third complaint about you."
He held up a hand, counting them off. "The first was from a client saying your teaching was inconsistent and, honestly, terrible. The second, you caused a client an injury. And now this." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "You can press charges on the guy, what he did was wrong. But we need to talk about your position here."
Rowan listened, his face neutral. 'This is why I don't like owing people,' he thought. 'But damn… how does someone be a personal trainer and suck at it? And injure people?'
John leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. "So here's what I'm going to do. I'm removing you from the website, no new clients. And for now, you'll only train men. I know it's harsh, but it's not permanent. Show some improvement, and we'll see how this goes."
Rowan nodded. John was a good guy. When Rowan lost his parents in the accident, John had been there for him. He'd given him a job when he had nowhere else to go.
'He's trying to help,' Rowan thought.
"What do you think?" John asked, watching him carefully.
"Yeah, that sounds fine," Rowan replied, his voice steady.
John nodded, relief flickering across his face. "Good. Let's make this work."
Rowan stood, offering a small nod of gratitude before heading back into the gym.
'Only training men,' he thought, shaking his head. 'Guess I'll have to figure out how to be better before I can figure out how to be the best. '
But inside, something stirred, a familiar itch. The kind that had gotten him into trouble in both of his lives.
'Well,' he thought, a small smile tugging at his lips, 'we'll see how long this lasts'
Rowan stood up and walked out of the office. The gym was alive with the sound of weights clanging and treadmills humming, but as soon as he stepped into the open, heads turned. Eyes followed him, curious, judgmental, some almost smug.
He could already guess their thoughts.
'He's fired.'
And they weren't entirely wrong. Being taken off the website wasn't a full termination, but for a personal trainer, it might as well have been. Without clients, there was no money. Without money, there was no job.
He felt the stares as he walked through the gym. The whispers were quiet but loud enough to carry.
"Did he get fired?"
"Probably."
"Serves him right."
"He's always been a liability."
Rowan kept his head up, his face neutral. He didn't owe anyone an explanation.
He grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped his face, more to give his hands something to do than because he needed it. He glanced around the gym. Some people quickly looked away when they noticed him watching. Others didn't bother hiding their curiosity.
The reality was sinking in.
Being taken off the website meant clients couldn't find him. And without clients, he couldn't make money. John had given him a lifeline by letting him stay on to train men, but it was a thin thread.
Rowan exhaled slowly, tossing the towel into the laundry bin.
'Guess I'll have to figure something out,' he thought.
But as he walked out of the gym, he felt the seeds of an idea forming, a plan that might just turn things around.
Or blow up in his face.
Either way, he wasn't done yet.