My head... it hurts!
I shouldn't have drunk that last bottle...
A searing pain, a jagged rip in his skull, was the first thing Ethan registered. His head throbbed with brutal pain, unbearable.
He groaned, the sound swallowed by a thick fog of disorientation.
Slowly, agonisingly, he prised open his eyelids.
Blurred crimson swarmed before his eyes, slowly resolving into a clear view of blood.
Blood.
So much blood.
A crimson river flowed down the chipped, rusty surface of a desk – a desk that looked like it hadn't been cleaned for decades. His vision began to sharpen, revealing the source of the carnage: his own head.
The pain intensified, a fresh wave of nausea overwhelming him.
A gaping wound, ragged and deep, marred his temple. It looked... punched-out. Like something had been brutally driven through his skull. The metal glint of a stapler, lying discarded in the crimson pool, confirmed his horrifying suspicion.
Was I murdered? How could I have survived this... My head!
Ahh!
He tried to sit up, but the searing pain shot through him, forcing him to collapse back to the ground, sending the wooden chair tumbling over to his side.
Amidst the blood-soaked chaos, a small, crumpled yellow note lay on the table, its edges stained a dark, sickening red. He slowly stood up from the ground, placing a hand on the desk to steady himself.
Then, he noticed the note. He could make out the spidery scrawl of writing, but the throbbing in his head prevented him from deciphering the message. The blood, the pain, the note... everything was a dizzying kaleidoscope of confusion and terror.
"Where in the name of my holy priest designer's cross am I? This isn't my room! Have I been robbed?"
Ethan looked around the room, confused about where he currently was. The room was a squalid London flat, bathed in the harsh, pale light of a single grimy window. Dust motes swirled in the sunbeams slicing through the grime-coated pane.
Peeling yellow paint and nicotine stains scarred the walls. The floor was cheap linoleum, littered with crumpled papers and takeaway containers. A broken armchair and a side table were on one side.
On his part, he seemed to have been savagely attacked. The stapler that lay discarded beside the crimson pool spreading across the desk could possibly be the murder weapon. The gaping wound in his temple, the sheer volume of blood... it was a miracle he was still alive.
His head screamed in protest with each shallow breath.
Then there was the location. This isn't his apartment. This is a dingy, squalid room, far different from his comfortable flat in Adelaide, Australia. The place reeked of poverty and despair!
He staggered back, his hands flying to his head, his fingers slick with blood. The pain was blinding, like a pulsating inferno behind his eyes. Panic began to set in.
Attacked, left for dead in a strange, unfamiliar room..
Slowly, the pain diminished, and he could feel his skin twitching and tightening as blood loss decreased. The gaping hole in his temple began to heal, the edges knitting together as if pulled by invisible threads, the crimson flow slowing to a trickle before ceasing entirely.
He touched his head, noticing no protrusion.
"What just happened? Did I just get healed? Am I actually in heaven?" Ethan mused, pondering deeply before shifting his realisation. "No, no! This can't be heaven; this is surely hell! This room seems to be my jail, and I'm simply serving punishment... that's it!"
Ethan heard the honking of cars outside, distant but clear. He quickly opened the window fully, allowing sunlight to flood in and brighten the room. His eyes rolled to the note left on the desk, which he picked up to read in an attempt to confirm what was currently happening.
The short note read: "Hello, transmigrator!"
Ethan paused for a moment, placing a hand on his temples. The pain and wound had mysteriously vanished!
"What...? Transmigrator? Me? Like my soul has been transferred to another world, different from Earth...!!!?"
He continued; only one paragraph remained in the note.
"...And so it begins. Your main goal is clear and simple: Achieve the dreams of Finn, the previous owner of this body. Only then can you return to your world. Sadly, you have no choice...."
Ethan scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Is this some sort of short-term prank? Seriously, guys, I'm not a fan of jokes like this... I seriously love webtoons, but this has gone too far. Let's get back to reality... uhn?"
He looked around the room, searching for any props or hidden cameras. None could be seen from his vantage point.
Suddenly, a new sharp pain shot through his head.
"The heck!"
Memories began rushing into his mind, and the pain intensified as more came flooding back, as if he were a patient suffering from amnesia now regaining his memories.
The body belonged to Finn Everyl, a young citizen of London, orphaned after the disappearance of his parents. He was left with only his uncle, who was currently working and living abroad, ensuring to send a monthly allowance of £1,000 to help him make ends meet.
Finn was formally a student at the Range Academy, who had recently transferred to the Luxurious Mixt Academy of Magic due to a controversy at the former institution. He was fortunate to have been accepted because a free scholarship event for both magical and non-magical students was being held at that time, allowing 40 middle-class and low-income citizens into the prestigious academy.
The circumstances surrounding his parents' demise remain a mystery; they simply went missing, so it was never confirmed whether they were dead or alive.
Finn was a struggling, active student, aged 18 in the current year.
A brilliant yet introverted teenager, he had no relationships with strangers and could not afford a better home, having to settle for what his entire allowance could provide: a room in Hackney, costing £50 a week, adding up to £200 a month. The rest of his allowance went towards food and other necessities.
His current landlord was a nice man who demanded nothing from him as a teenager; he was the one who had even gone out of his way to find information about the scholarship and report it to Finn.
Finn was devoid of magic and did not come from a family of witches, wizards, beastmen who could take human forms, shape-shifters, vampires, werewolves, or any type of magical beings that were considered fantastical in the real world, but existed here as actual beings apart from humans.
He was to resume at the academy today, Monday, 11th June.
In this world, magic existed, and it was considered an alternate Earth with multiple differences from the original one where Ethan came from. The situation was indeed mysterious, as it seemed someone was involved in his transmigration.
Turning his gaze to the ground once more, he saw a smartphone. The screen was slightly cracked and smeared with blood. This indicated that the assailant must have struggled to kill Finn, and unfortunately, had been successful. The previous owner of the body had tried to resist but failed; his memories were broken and incomplete.
The murder itself was a mystery, as was the identity of the person who had left the note. But it certainly might have been the killer.
Ethan, 22 years old and previously a new recruit in the police force of Adelaide, had gone out to celebrate at a club. After consuming a lot of alcohol, he passed out on a club seat and now found himself here, upon opening his eyes.
He picked up the phone, wiped the blood off the screen with his hands, and caught a clear view of his new self through the display.
A frail-looking young man stared back at him: dark hair, soulless brownish-dark eyes, and a tall figure standing at 6'1".
He looked as though he could die at any moment due to obvious signs of malnutrition. He wore a white singlet, now stained with blood.
"So... I'm going back to experiencing life as a teenager in high school, not just any normal one, but a magical one filled with rich brats and all sorts of social hierarchies, where I'm meant to rise to the top from being penniless... This sure seems like a captivating autobiography..."
"Finn Everyl... Finn..." Ethan echoed, staring at the figure reflected in the phone's screen.