Chapter 1: Transmigration
The weight of the day's exhaustion bore down on him as he stumbled into his apartment, barely managing to kick off his shoes before collapsing onto the bed. His mind swirled with the remnants of lectures and assignments, but within moments, sleep claimed him.
It felt like the most peaceful slumber he'd had in years—deep, warm, and strangely comforting. However, when he opened his eyes, the familiar sight of his cluttered room was gone. Instead, an unfamiliar ceiling loomed above him, and the soft sounds of sobbing reached his ears. Confused, he blinked, trying to make sense of the situation.
In his blurred vision, a man and woman stood over him, their faces streaked with tears. They were crying, yet their expressions were filled with an odd combination of sorrow and relief. What the hell was going on? He wanted to ask, but the words didn't come out as expected. Instead, a high-pitched, incoherent sound—a baby's cry—escaped his lips.
His heart raced. He looked down—or tried to—but his body felt strange, small, and weak. Panic surged as realization dawned. He was in a baby's body.
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(Shift in Point of View)
The couple had been elated when their long-awaited child was born, but that joy had quickly turned to sorrow. The midwife's expression had fallen, her hands cold as she inspected the baby, her voice whispering words no parent should hear: "He's not breathing."
Grief consumed the mother, her heart shattering as she held the still form of her child in her arms. The villagers, having gathered to celebrate, slowly trickled away, leaving the couple to mourn in the quiet isolation of their home.
Hours passed. As the first rays of dawn broke through the shutters, something miraculous happened. The baby's chest rose with a shallow breath, then another. His eyes fluttered open, and a soft, almost curious noise escaped him.
The mother gasped, her tear-streaked face lighting up with disbelief. She clutched the baby close to her chest, kissing his tiny face, too overwhelmed to speak. The father, equally overcome, knelt beside them, his arms wrapped around them both.
In their overwhelming joy, they failed to notice something strange: the child had made no real cry, only soft, almost thoughtful sounds. But in their bliss, they cared for nothing except that their child had returned to them.
And so, the story of the transmigrated soul began—reborn in a body that was never meant to live.
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