Fang Quan lounged in his dorm room, controller in hand, the faint glow of the TV casting shadows on his messy floor. The screen flashed GAME OVER for the third time, but he barely noticed. His mind was already elsewhere—thinking about the new release dropping today at the game store. He glanced at the time.
"Class starts in ten minutes… eh, it's just calculus." He stretched lazily, yawning. "Who needs calculus when you have hand-eye coordination like mine?"
Skipping class wasn't a decision—it was a lifestyle. Fang Quan had mastered the art of avoiding effort. He could come up with excuses that ranged from brilliantly convincing to embarrassingly stupid, depending on how motivated he felt. Today? He wasn't feeling particularly inspired.
Standing up, he threw on a hoodie, not bothering to check if it was clean. "The store's only a few blocks away. In and out, back before anyone notices I'm gone. Genius."
The streets were busy with afternoon traffic, but Fang Quan weaved through the crowd like a man on a mission—or at least like a guy with zero concern for personal safety.
"I'll get the game, come back, and maybe… nah, I won't study." He grinned to himself, imagining how much better his day was going to get.
Then it happened.
One moment he was stepping off the curb, the next—blinding headlights, the deafening screech of tires, and time slowing to a crawl. As he flew through the air, everything seemed unreal. But what froze him wasn't the impact or the pain.
It was the rat.
Standing on the sidewalk, watching him with its beady little eyes, whiskers twitching. And then—impossible, ridiculous—it grinned.
"Is that rat… smiling at me?" Fang Quan muttered as the world faded to black.
His last thought before everything went dark?
Maybe I should've gone to calculus after all.
Fang Quan expected to wake up to the blaring sounds of hospital monitors, maybe even the scolding of a nurse for being so careless. Instead, what greeted him was the sour stench of damp earth and a suffocating darkness. His eyes fluttered open, but instead of white hospital walls, he saw the jagged outline of stone tunnels stretching above him.
"What the…" he groaned, trying to sit up. But something felt wrong—very wrong. His limbs were short, stubby. His fingers… were gone. No, replaced by claws. He glanced down and saw gray fur covering his entire body.
"No way." His voice, shrill and unfamiliar, echoed through the tunnels. He scrambled to his feet—or rather, his paws—and stared at the reflection in a nearby puddle. A beady-eyed rat stared back, its whiskers twitching in panic.
"This… this isn't real," he whispered, trembling. "I'm a rat. I'm a freaking rat."
He sat back on his haunches, paws trembling as he tried to think. "Okay, Fang Quan. This is a nightmare. A really, really weird nightmare. Just wake up. Wake up!" He smacked himself across the face with a paw.
Nothing.
A voice from behind startled him. "Stop hitting yourself. It's embarrassing."
Fang spun around to see a rat—a much bigger one, with a scar across its face—eyeing him with mild amusement.
"I—I'm not a rat," Fang stammered. "I'm human. I don't belong here!"
The scarred rat laughed, a rough, scratchy sound. "Right. And I'm the Emperor of Cheese. Face it, kid. You're one of us now."
"No. No, I refuse." Fang's mind raced, desperate to find a way out of this nightmare. "There's gotta be a loophole. Maybe if I find some ancient rat scroll or something, I can reverse it."
The scarred rat raised a brow. "Ancient scroll? You've been watching too many cartoons."
Fang scowled. "What do you know? You're just a rat."
"And now," the scarred rat said with a smirk, "so are you."
Fang slumped down, paws over his face. "This can't be happening."
But it was. And deep down, he knew it.
The scarred rat shook his head, chuckling softly. "You're just like the rest of the newcomers. Always panicking, always thinking it's some kind of mistake." He narrowed his eyes at Fang Quan, his whiskers twitching in amusement. "But this is what happens when humans disrespect rats. You get punished."
Fang blinked, his heart thudding in his chest. "Punished? For what? I didn't do anything!"
The older rat scoffed, turning around and flicking his tail. "Sure, you didn't. Just like the others. Come on, follow me. I'll explain everything on the way."
"Wait… you know how I can get back?" Fang scrambled after him, paws slipping on the damp stone floor.
"Maybe," the scarred rat said, his voice nonchalant. "But it won't be as simple as you think. If you want to return to your precious human life, you'll have to earn it."
Fang's ears perked up. "Earn it? How?"
The rat glanced back with a toothy grin. "Patience, newbie. First, you need to understand the rules." He led Fang through a winding tunnel, the walls damp and cold. Water dripped from above, and the smell of mildew made Fang's nose twitch in disgust.
"I hate this already," Fang muttered, trying to avoid stepping in the filth. "I didn't ask to be part of some twisted rodent punishment program."
The older rat stopped in his tracks and looked back at Fang, his sharp eyes glinting with an odd mix of amusement and something else, something that hinted at centuries of frustration. "You're not the first human to end up here, you know," he said, his tone turning serious. "In fact, every human who's ever ended up in this… situation, was sent here with the same purpose."
Fang's ears perked up, confusion wrinkling his brow. "Purpose? What purpose?"
"To settle the hatred between humans and rodents," the older rat said, his voice cold and bitter. "It's been the mission for centuries. Yet, so far, none of you have managed to accomplish it."
Fang blinked, struggling to process the words. "Settle the hatred? But… why me? Why send me?"
The scarred rat's eyes softened, a rare glimpse of something human flickering through his gaze. "Because, like the others, you're a part of a bigger plan. You humans hate us. You fear us. And we've spent generations trying to show you that we're more than just pests. But the cycle continues."
Fang felt a knot form in his stomach. "Wait… so, every human who ends up as a rat has to do this? Has to somehow fix things between humans and rats?"
The older rat nodded, turning to lead Fang further into the winding tunnels. "Exactly. But none of you have ever succeeded. The hatred runs too deep. Too ingrained in both species."
"Why haven't they succeeded?" Fang asked, walking beside him now, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on his small rat body.
"Because none of you truly understand. You think we're just vermin, scurrying around in the shadows, waiting for scraps. But the truth is, rats are survivors. We've lived through centuries of persecution. We're smarter than you think. And until you realize that…" The rat let the sentence hang in the air, his voice tinged with something darker. "You'll never understand why we do what we do."
Fang's mind raced. "You're saying… this isn't just about being a rat. It's about changing how humans see you? How you see humans?"
The older rat stopped and turned, his expression serious now. "Exactly. The hatred isn't one-sided. It's mutual. The humans who end up here must learn the truth about rats—about survival, about sacrifice, about what it means to be a part of a world where you're always hunted, always feared. Only when you understand that, will you be able to bridge the gap."
Fang swallowed, his thoughts spiraling. "And if I can't? What happens to me?"
The older rat gave him a grim look. "You stay here, just like the others. And like them, you'll fade into legend. Just another failed human, lost to the rats forever."
Fang's mind raced. "I don't want that. I don't want to be rat, I'm a computing major, I have college."
The older rat's lips curled into a slight, sardonic smile. "Then start learning, kid. There's a revolution coming. And if you want to get back to your human life, you'll need to choose a side. The rats are done hiding."