Bed creaked, while the sunlight passed through the window showing a person who was adjusting his position in order to sleep was in plain sight.

"This bed is impossible to fucking sleep." He cursed while moving around to find a better position to sleep.

"No fans, and AC. No TV and series.Fuck, life suddenly goes hard mode for me. And this weather is too damm hot!" He sat up from the bed and walked to the wardrobe, pulled his clothes out from the wardrobe and put the clothes at the window to block the sunlight.

"There's not even a piece of glass in this place, what kind of backward world have I transmigrated to."

Picking up a mug from the table that was closed to the window before sitting down on his bed, he looked at his own reflection on the water and couldn't help but feel lucky that atleast he look better than before.

Black hair, gold eyes, and pale white skin is what he saw on the reflection. However, there's not much visible muscles on the body and the body is not tall that he want it to be.

"I guess there's always a tradeoff." He muttered secretly before he sorted out his memory.

Rig Farldun, a wild trainee mage who performs magic on the streets and bars in order to get enough money to be able to attend Graydenberk, a magician school which was—however considered as the worst magician school on the land of Vroth.

But as the wise men say, the likelihood on the chances of getting a job will depend on your diploma and certification. No matter how backwards the world is Graydenberk still atleast guarantee that he would have a good life in the long run.

However, even if Graydenberk was the worst school on the land of Vroth but its tuitions for students were just too dam high. Where you can just use the tuition fees for the school to lives as a king for rest of your lives comfortably.

But Rig Falrdun did not think so, he wanted more than money. He wanted fame and power and that was why he work his ass off everyday in the bars and streets.

And that was the main reason why Rig Farldun was lying on his bed —death.

He just worked too hard.

A transmigrator sighed at the memory of the original owner. He took a sip of the water then put the mug back on the table before lying on the hard rock bed amidst of his drifting thoughts.