"Is this... transmigration?"
The words hung in the stale air of the small room. Shin sat on the edge of the rickety cot, his mind racing. He had spent his fair share of nights reading stories like this. Usually, the main character was someone who had nothing to lose. They were often overworked, lonely, or struggling to survive in a harsh modern world. But that wasn't Shin.
His life had been perfect. He had a high-paying job that he managed alongside his college courses. He had a solid group of friends and a future that looked bright. Everything was going according to plan.
His thoughts immediately drifted to Rihanna. He could still feel the phantom sensation of her presence in the car from the day before. They had so many plans. They were supposed to go to that new restaurant downtown next weekend. They were supposed to graduate together.
'What happened after I fell asleep?' he wondered.
Did his heart just stop? Did my body just disappeared? The idea of his body being found was sickening. He pictured the police tape and the sirens. He pictured his parents getting the phone call. Most of all, he pictured Rihanna.
'She's going to think I just disappeared. Or she's going to find out I'm dead.'
The thought sent a sharp pang of grief through his chest. It wasn't fair. He hadn't asked for a new start. He didn't want a fantasy world. He wanted his sports car and his comfortable bed. He wanted the life he had worked so hard to build.
Shin forced himself to stand up. His new legs felt thin and a bit shaky. He moved toward the only source of light in the room. It was a small, narrow window with a wooden shutter that creaked when he pushed it further open.
He leaned out slightly and his breath hitched.
The view was something straight out of a history book or a high-budget fantasy film. There were no paved roads or streetlights. Instead, he saw narrow, winding paths made of uneven cobblestones and packed dirt. The buildings were clustered together in a chaotic fashion. They were built with heavy timber frames and white plaster that looked weathered by years of rain and soot.
Many of the roofs were made of thick, yellow thatch. Others were covered in dark, slate tiles that looked heavy and moss-grown. Smoke drifted lazily from stone chimneys, filling the air with the scent of burning wood and coal. He could see people moving below. They wore simple, drab clothing in shades of brown and tan. There was a merchant pulling a wooden cart, the wheels rattling loudly against the stones.
It was undeniably medieval. There was a lack of symmetry that felt both charming and terrifying. The grime on the windows of the neighboring houses was real. The smell of livestock and woodsmoke was heavy in the air.
Shin stepped back from the window and caught his reflection in a small, cracked piece of polished metal hanging on the wall. He stared.
He wasn't the blonde, 6'4" athlete anymore. This new body was much shorter. He guessed he was about 16 years old now. His skin was pale and clear, giving him a bit of a "pretty boy" look. But the most striking change was his hair. It was no longer golden and short. Instead, it was a deep, jet black. It fell all the way down to his shoulders in slight waves.
"I guess I'm still a pretty boy here too," he whispered to himself.
He tried to find a silver lining. At least he wasn't ugly. But he was clearly poor. He looked around the room again with a more critical eye. The furniture was minimal and cheap. The floor was just cold stone and dirt. He was definitely a commoner in this world.
'This is a classic trope,' he thought. 'The high-born soul in a low-born body.'
He noticed a small wooden structure in the corner. It looked like a very basic version of a closet or a wardrobe. The wood was dark and smelled faintly of cedar and old dust. He walked over and pulled the door open.
Inside were a few sets of clothes. They weren't silk or high-quality cotton. They were rough, heavy tunics made of linen or wool. Most of them were a dull, muddy brown or a faded charcoal gray. They looked well-worn and had patches in several places.
Shin reached out and grabbed one of the tunics. As he pulled it closer, a wave of a foul odor hit him. It was a mix of stale sweat, damp earth, and something sweet and rotting.
"Ugh, what the hell?"
He nearly gagled, holding the garment at arm's length. Back in his old life, he was meticulous about his hygiene. He used expensive colognes and never wore a shirt twice without washing it. This smelled like it hadn't seen soap in months.
'I really am in poverty,' he realized with a grimace.
He tossed the tunic back into the closet and looked deeper into the shadows of the small wardrobe. Hidden behind a stack of folded cloths was something thin and long. He reached in and pulled it out.
It was a piece of dark, polished wood. It was about twelve inches long and tapered slightly toward the end. It felt warm to the touch, almost as if it had a faint pulse of its own.
Shin stared at it, his heart skipping a beat.
"No way..."
He gripped the handle. It fit perfectly in his palm. In his world, a stick was just a stick. But in a place with buildings like the ones outside, a wand meant only one thing.
"Is magic actually real here?"
He felt a spark of genuine excitement for the first time since waking up. He looked at the simple wooden tool in his hand. If magic existed, then maybe life in this world wouldn't be that bad.
"I mean, it's a fantasy world! There has to be magic!"
He held the wand out in front of him, wondering if he was supposed to say a word or just feel something, he stood there in his smelly room.