"Ugh, my head is killing me."
I woke up with a pounding headache, like a chorus of bells ringing inside my skull. Slowly, the pain started to fade. I blinked my eyes open and realized I was in a car. My head was resting on the steering wheel, which was smeared with blood. I touched my forehead and found blood there too, but thankfully, it had stopped bleeding.
I looked around and saw that the car had smashed into a tree. The front was crumpled up like an accordion. I managed to get out of the car, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me. The car was mostly off the road, surrounded by thick trees. Skid marks on the road showed where I had lost control and crashed.
But something didn't add up. The last thing I remembered was going for a walk. How did I end up in a car crash in the middle of nowhere?
"Aah."
Another sharp pain shot through my head, bringing back a memory. I vaguely remembered crossing the street and getting hit by a truck. I should be in a hospital, not standing next to a wrecked car. That truck hit me hard enough that I should be dead. Yet here I was, somehow alive.
I checked for injuries. Other than my throbbing head, I felt fine. No broken bones, no other wounds. The head injury seemed to be from banging my head on the steering wheel, not from a speeding truck. I also didn't feel any other pain, reducing the chance of internal injuries. However, I decided a thorough checkup in a hospital was necessary.
Briefly, I entertained the possibility that someone had pranked me. But who would do that? I didn't think there was anyone close enough to me who would go to such lengths.
I checked my pockets for my phone, only to realize that my clothes were not mine. I didn't remember ever buying these clothes. In one of the jeans pockets, I found a phone—an unfamiliar model. Despite not recognizing it, I unlocked it with surprising ease, as if I had done so thousands of times before. Shrugging off the strangeness, I checked the call history—unfamiliar names filled the list. Then, I scrolled through the phonebook, but not a single name was recognizable to me.
I scrutinized the phone model again. I'd never heard of that phone company. Similarly, I examined the car, only to discover it belonged to a manufacturer I had never heard of either.
Considering all the evidence before me, along with the unnerving ease with which I unlocked the phone as if it had already become muscle memory, I entertained another possibility, the most unlikely but strangely plausible: I died and I reincarnated. Fuck you, truck-kun.
As if to affirm my hypothesis, my headache flared up again, and a flood of new memories filled my mind. Memories that weren't mine but felt like they belonged to me now. The pain that had subsided suddenly returned, only to vanish again after a few seconds.
"So, your name was Dante Wraith," I muttered to myself. Since this was my new life, I accepted this new identity. My old self died in the truck accident, along with my old name and identity.
Dante Wraith, like me, was an orphan. The orphanage supported his schooling, but after graduating, he, too, had to bid farewell to its care. Despite his humble beginnings, he excelled academically and earned a small scholarship to a community college. Juggling multiple part-time jobs, he managed to complete his education.
With dreams of becoming a famous private investigator, Dante opened his agency. He envisioned solving high-profile cases for wealthy clients and amassing a fortune. However, reality proved harsher than his aspirations. In a bustling city filled with countless private investigators, gaining recognition was no easy feat. Most clients preferred established PIs with proven reputations. As a newcomer, Dante struggled to attract clients.
For two years, Dante solved a mere five cases, all of which involved locating lost pets. These cases brought in little more than chump change. To make ends meet, he had to continue working part-time jobs, leading many to assume his main occupation was that of a pizza shop waiter.
But Dante's luck finally changed when he hit it big—though ironically, it was with a lottery win. On a whim, he purchased a ticket and struck gold, winning a staggering $200 million. After taxes, his bank account swelled by $135 million.
With this windfall, Dante decided to leave the bustling city behind and seek a fresh start in a small town. He believed that in a less competitive environment, he'd have better chances of landing lucrative cases. Unconcerned about the potentially smaller client base, he knew he could live comfortably with his newfound wealth. PI work would now be more of a pastime than a means of survival, though the prospect of fame still appealed to him.
After finalizing the purchase of a two-floor villa in Springwood town and tying up loose ends, Dante bid farewell to his agency and departed the city. Tragically, his journey was cut short by a fatal accident midway, claiming his life on the spot.
"Poor guy," I murmured. "Don't worry, I'll take over for you. From now on, I am Dante Wraith."
"I won't let your money rot in your bank account," I added with a smirk.
Yet, I couldn't shake off my dissatisfaction with one glaring fact: protagonists in stories often reincarnate into thrilling worlds of cultivation, magic, or fantasy. So why was I reincarnated into a mundane world?
As I delved into my new memories, I discovered that while this world resembled my previous one, it wasn't a parallel dimension. It was vast, with a population exceeding 50 billion, and its countries were significantly larger. Even seemingly "small" towns like Springwood surpassed the size of some mid-sized cities from my previous life.
Despite my disappointment, I refused to dwell on it for long. After all, I was already grateful for the second chance at life I'd been given. Besides, I had no desire to confirm whether a third chance awaited me in a fantasy realm—I was content with what I had.
With my newfound wealth, I could fully embrace my new life. As a fan of anime, comics, and games, with a particular passion for mystery, I found myself drawn to the idea of becoming a private investigator.
"In this life, I will find joy," I declared with determination. "I'll carry on Dante's work as a private investigator, and who knows? Maybe I'll even become a renowned one."
A sudden alert interrupted my thoughts.
[Ding]
'What the…'
[System Installation Complete]
[Welcome to the Private Investigator System]
'The fuck?'
Then, like a surge of electricity, new information flooded my brain—a basic introduction to the system. It seemed that upon fully embracing my new identity, the system had been installed. Its purpose was to help me become the best private investigator in the world.
Excitement coursed through me. Finally, something beyond the ordinary—though, of course, being reincarnated wasn't exactly normal to begin with. What had initially been a mere interest transformed into a burning ambition. With the aid of the system, I had the opportunity to achieve worldwide recognition.
"Alright, let's start with a modest goal: becoming a world-famous private investigator."
"System, show me my status."
[Name: Dante Wraith
Title: None
Skills:
Driving - Lv 15
Investigation - Lv 5
Close-combat mastery - Lv 3
Light Firearms mastery - Lv 3]
The skill levels ranged from 0 to 100, with 0 indicating only superficial knowledge and 100 representing peak proficiency. No wonder Dante had only landed cases involving missing pets. With a mere level 5 in Investigation, he was barely a rookie. His close-combat prowess likely stemmed from a few scuffles, while his proficiency with light firearms was probably the result of some basic shooting classes.
After reviewing my status, I closed the display and returned to the car. Thankfully, it started, albeit with some strange noises. I hoped it wouldn't break down before reaching town. Reversing the car, I maneuvered it back onto the road and set off toward Springwood, relying on my memory to guide me.
After the initial excitement of my reincarnation and the revelation of the system had faded, I found myself contemplating something crucial—something I should have considered earlier: how I died.
From my memories, I knew it was an accident, but the circumstances were peculiar. As the previous owner of my body drove the car, someone suddenly appeared in front of it. I initially dismissed the person as one of those individuals who, after failing to hitch a ride, would recklessly stand in front of any passing car to force it to stop.
But this person's sudden appearance startled Dante, causing him to swerve and lose control, ultimately crashing into a tree by the roadside. The incident might have frightened that person causing him to flee the scene, as technically, he was the catalyst for the accident.
That person likely didn't even bother to check if Dante was alive. Dante should have still been alive at that point; he likely succumbed to excessive blood loss. If that person had called an ambulance, Dante might have survived. If I ever encounter him in the future, then he better be ready to face consequences—perhaps a few broken bones or more depending on my mood.
I decided to first go to the hospital before going to my villa to finish the rest of the formalities. The pain I experienced upon waking up was due to the head injury from the accident. However I believed that I should be mostly healed by the system as I no longer felt much pain, and when I checked the wound on my head, it didn't look serious—nothing more than a superficial wound.
As I drove, my phone began to ring incessantly. It was Tim from the packers and movers company I'd hired to handle my relocation.
"Mr. Dante, where are you? We've been waiting at your house for three hours; you should have arrived before us. I've called you multiple times," Tim said with a blaming tone.
I glanced at my phone and noticed 13 missed calls from Tim and 11 from Alicia, the lady from the property dealer company who facilitated the sale of my house. She would likely be there for the final handover. I had seen these missed calls earlier, but lacking Dante's memories and context, I had dismissed them. Now, with his memories, I understood their significance.
"Sorry, Tim, but I was in an accident. I was unconscious for a while, but I've just regained consciousness and am now on my way to town. I should arrive in about an hour," I explained, my voice carrying a hint of apology.
"Mr. Dante, are you okay? You should have called for an ambulance. Do you want me to call one for you?" Tim asked, sounding worried.
"Thanks, Tim, but I feel well enough to drive back myself. However, I will be stopping by the hospital first to get patched up before heading to the house," I replied, thankful for his concern.
"Of course, Mr. Dante, take your time. We understand. I'll inform the team and Ms. Alicia," Tim offered.
"Thanks, Tim." With that, I ended the call.
As I hung up, I couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. The concern from a stranger like Tim was comforting, yet the chaotic turn of events since my reincarnation weighed heavily on my mind. I took a deep breath and refocused on the road ahead, determined to make the most of this second chance.