The year is 2042. Humanity has made incredible strides—AI that can outthink the brightest minds, renewable energy keeping our cities alive, and even the first steps on distant planets. But some fields still can't seem to budge. Quantum Mechanics and Wave Theory? Stubborn as hell. No matter how far we push the boundaries of technology, those two stubborn concepts still refuse to give us a solid answer.
I'm Ryo Kakashi, 26 years old, and I lead a team of researchers at the Institute of Science in Tokyo. It's the biggest, most prestigious place in Japan, and for good reason. I've dedicated my life to understanding the very fabric of reality, and lately, that obsession's been gnawing at me. I'm what people call "gifted." They say I'm a prodigy, that my mind works at a pace that borders on the superhuman. And maybe they're right. I've always been able to process problems faster than anyone else. My academic career? It was a blur. I zoomed through it all—early studies, doctorate, research breakthroughs—before most people had even figured out their specialties. It was never really a choice. It's just who I am.
But with great ability comes an equally great flaw. I don't know how to stop.
My mind craves discovery. I can't let go of a puzzle until I've solved it. That's why I'm in this state. The past few weeks? I barely slept. Two hours, maybe three a night. And that's on a good day. The theories I've been working on have consumed me, and I can't turn them off. I haven't even realized how much time has passed until it's too late.
Today's supposed to be the last day before the holidays begin. You'd think I'd be ready for a break, but no. I'm still lost in my work. The theory I'm working on could change everything—the very foundation of how we understand particles and wave functions. The way a particle's wave function connects to its physical properties. What if we could manipulate that? Imagine the breakthroughs. But even though I can see the pieces, they don't quite fit. Not yet.
My mind races. It's all I can think about. It's all I've been thinking about for the last two weeks. And now? Something's wrong.
I'm sitting at my desk, staring at the screen, but the numbers don't make sense anymore. My hands feel like they weigh a ton. My vision blurs. I can't focus. The equations are swirling, mocking me. I force myself to look closer, but my body betrays me. My breathing grows shallow. The air feels thicker, suffocating.
I need to finish this. I just need to…
And then, everything goes black.
I don't know how long I was out. A second? A minute? An hour? Time means nothing anymore.
The first thing I hear isn't my own thoughts, but a voice. Cold, clinical.
"Ryo Kakashi, 26 years old, lead researcher at the Institute of Science, Tokyo. Cause of death: exhaustion from prolonged overwork."
Exhaustion? Really? I want to laugh at the absurdity of it. But I can't. I can't even move.
Another voice, this one rougher, more… human, joins in. "Another victim of the grind. Tragic. The guy was a genius, but even geniuses have limits."
Genius, huh? What good did it do me?
I try to speak, to scream, to ask what's going on. But my mouth doesn't move. No words come. I can't even form a thought in this place—this void. Just silence. And the voices slowly fade, leaving me alone with the endless blackness.
I don't know how long I drifted in that empty space, floating. Time is meaningless here, and yet, I feel something… pulling. A weight, a force. Something's happening.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, I open my eyes.
Where am I?
I blink, trying to make sense of the light, the strange feeling beneath me. The softness of the bed. The air smells different—fresher, yet unfamiliar. My head feels heavy, my body too weak to move. But there's something… something odd.
I can hear voices.
"Leo Heisel..."
A woman's voice. Soft, warm, but strange. I try to focus, but my mind is too fuzzy.
"Leo... Leo Heisel."
They're saying my name. But why? Who are they? Who is this Leo Heisel?
I try to move, to make sense of the world around me. But it's hard. My body doesn't want to cooperate. My arms feel stiff, my fingers too small. Am I… a child?
Panic bubbles in my chest, but I can't understand the voices around me. The language is foreign, strange. Nothing they say makes sense. My mind is too slow, too new.
And yet, they keep calling me Leo. It rings in my ears. The name. My name?
I squint, trying to focus on their faces. There's a man, tall and broad-shouldered, and a woman, her face soft with concern. They lean over me, whispering things I can't make out.
I don't know what they want from me.
I try to speak, but no words come out. Only soft sounds, the kind you make when you're a baby. Everything feels… disconnected.
A wave of exhaustion crashes over me. I'm overwhelmed, confused. Who am I? Where am I? And why does it feel like my mind can't wrap itself around the simplest of thoughts?
Then, it hits me—my parents.
I barely remember them. They were killed in an accident when I was five. But now, there's no trace of them. No memories. No familiarity.
I try to hold onto those fragments, but they slip away from me, just like everything else in this strange place.
I hear it again, the word—"Leo."
It's my name. But how can it be? How can I be someone else?
My breath catches. I want to cry out, but I don't even know how. All I can do is lie there, helpless, as the woman whispers something I still can't understand.
I've been reborn into a world that isn't mine. Into a body that isn't mine. And I don't even know what that means yet. I can't remember anything about this world. Not yet.
But I do know one thing—this life, this second chance, might be more than I ever could have imagined. Even if I don't understand it right now.