Isn't it weird how so many versions of you exist in people's minds? Some know you as the shy person who doesn't talk, some see you as the annoying person who won't shut up, some see you as cold and mean, and others find you caring and kind. The gist is that the person you think of as yourself exists only for you. Every person you meet, have a relationship with, or make eye contact with creates a version of you, and there are a thousand different versions of yourself out there in people's minds. I am not a philosopher or anything, but when people already have preconceived notions about you from your first encounter, it can be bothersome, and I am talking from experience.

After returning from another repetitive day at school, Kyler walked a few blocks toward his house after being dropped off by the bus. His weekdays were a monotonous routine: wake up, go to school, finish school, watch TV, and repeat. He was the definition of a loner. Whenever someone tried to talk to him, he gave short responses and avoided further interaction. At lunch, he sat in secluded spots specifically to avoid people.

Kyler had grown up without any major troubles. His parents were perfectly balanced—not too strict, not too lax. Because of this, he became the epitome of an introvert. He wasn't forced to go out often, and when he was, he always brought along a distraction, whether it was his phone or a book. He never had homework because he always finished it at school. Despite never studying, he consistently earned high B's, so there was never a sense of stress. He avoided anything that seemed like hard work. As a result, he had no hopes, dreams, or anything to look forward to. His parents told him to find a job, but he couldn't find anything he wanted to do.

Despite this, the strange thing was that Kyler was extremely competitive. Whether it was sports or video games, he always put his all into the game. As he walked up the stairs to his bedroom, his mind was tired and blank. He did a slow saunter to the foot of his bed. Closing his eyes, he held out his arms horizontally and prepared to flop onto his bed. But as he fell, a sudden sense of panic gripped him. In his head, it felt like he was falling for an eternity as a sudden crack in space opened. Bludgeoning pain shot through his lower back, and then everything went dark.

I woke up in a cold sweat, not knowing why I suddenly felt pain all over my body. I was in a room that could only be described as royal, with lavish decorations like sculptures and paintings placed all around. Beside me, on the bedside table, there were flowers and fruit, such as grapes and things you would see in an ancient Greek movie, as well as a hand mirror and sunglasses, which seemed really out of place for the genre. On the right, half on the bed, a young man with yellow-blond hair was drooling in his sleep, dressed in a white shirt embroidered with gold sleeves. He was so handsome that he could have been a supermodel. He had a good jawline and sharp features. I was so confused that I let out a weird noise from the back of my throat that can't be described.

Immediately, the young man shot up straight like a spring. He started making a bunch of excited noises that sounded like gibberish to me, but from what I could understand, he was thrilled that I was awake.

…

After I didn't say anything and just stared at him blankly, Blondie seemed to remember something and looked at me with an expression of sadness. His face was filled with sorrow, but he forced a smile and handed me a piece of fruit from the bedside table. It looked like it was an apple, then he quickly and quietly walked out.

It was only then that I tried to make sense of my situation.

"Okay, I am currently in a fancy room that is not mine, with someone in 1700s-looking PJs who doesn't speak English," I narrated to myself.

"What the hell happened?" I muttered out loud.

I tried to get up from the bed, but my legs wouldn't move. That's when I started to panic.

"I am dreaming. I am dreaming. I am dreaming. I am dreaming," I repeated to myself.

Unless this is some manga-type shit, I am definitely dreaming. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized this wasn't a dream for two reasons. First, everything I was seeing and feeling was too real. Second, when you realize you are in a dream, one of two things happens: you either wake up, or you can use your imagination to do whatever you want, and clearly this was not my preferred fantasy.

"So… this is real, not a dream," I said firmly. But how did I get here? When I was unconscious, I tried to recall my last memories—I went to fall on my bed, then…

It clicked. I was falling for too long and felt a lot of pain in my lower back. I tried to get out of bed and couldn't move. My legs wouldn't move. It was then that I felt the most fear I had ever experienced in my entire life.

"Am I paralyzed from the waist down? And if so, how did I injure myself?" I asked myself aloud. I reached beneath the covers with my right hand and squeezed my thigh. I felt nothing.

Just before I could start crying, I heard a voice inside my head.

"Oh, you are finally awake."

My mind suddenly blanked. "What are you?" I shouted out loud, my voice tinged with fear and anger that I didn't know I had. It sounded almost subconscious.

As soon as I said that, the voice in my head responded, "Do you want to seem crazy? Think what you want to say, and I'll hear it."

I realized my mistake and instantly quieted down. "What are you?" I thought.

The voice took some time to respond. "You can call me Advisor."

"So, you can speak English? Do you know what the hell is going on?" I asked in an aggressive tone.

Advisor responded calmly, "Yes, I'll give you a basic rundown. You are currently in a hospital. Look in a mirror, and you'll figure the rest out," the voice said.

I suddenly felt an urge to attack the figure in my head. "I don't know if you realize, but I can't move my legs to a mirror." Feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment, I remembered previously seeing the hand mirror on the side of the bed.

Advisor slowly responded as if remembering, "Ah yes, well… That's part of my point. If you look at your arms, you'll find that they're more muscular, and if you look at your face, you'll realize your hair is longer."

I felt for my dirty blonde hair, which was indeed longer, and—was that a streak of silver? I looked at the side of the bed to the bedside table and found a gold hand mirror. Leaning over and pulling it to my face, I saw my reflection. My face was exactly the same, but the hair that covered it was so long that I could've probably been mistaken for a girl. Part of my bangs was silver. I'm not even that old. My eyes, which were supposed to be a hazel green, had a silver tint to them as if they were shining from within. And if that wasn't enough, I also realized I was wearing someone else's clothes. Not my usual t-shirt and sweatpants, my clothes were quite similar to Blondie's PJs.

"You'll find out the rest once they tell you," Advisor said slowly, as if bored.

"Once who tells me?" I asked aggressively, getting annoyed at Advisor for being so vague.

"Oh, right, you need to relearn the language. This is annoying." The advisor suddenly sounded like it put me on hold.

Suddenly, it felt like my brain was on fire. I grabbed the sides of my head as if trying to crush the pain as information poured in too quickly. It felt like I was downloading data directly into my brain, like a computer. After what felt like an eternity, it suddenly stopped. When I tried to speak, I knew what I was saying, but I didn't recognize it.

"What language is this?" I asked in bewilderment.

"You can think of it as the common language here, and without it, it would be pretty hard to survive. Or it would be if you weren't you. I'll be back soon—create an amusing story for me. Here's some advice: pretend like you have amnesia."

"But I do kind of have amnesia."

"Perfect." I got the image of a thumbs-up in my mind.

This Advisor was a slightly goofy character. He was definitely annoying and arrogant. Something about him filled me with homicidal rage and a deep-seated fear, which confused me. He seemed very similar to someone that I knew but couldn't quite place. But why is he in my head?

It had been eight hours since that last conversation, and since I couldn't move, I slept. I started thinking about my situation. Since this was some sort of medieval world right out of a fantasy story, there might be magic, which could be interesting. But I had two extremely important missions: number one, figure out info about where I had been transported and the world's details, and number two, the most important thing, figure out how to fix my legs.

I remembered from a book that if your spine was injured, you could be permanently paralyzed unless you got a very expensive and very risky surgery. It was basically impossible to fix. I didn't know if that was the case, but it was definitely a large possibility. Did I hurt myself when I got transported here? Or did I inhabit someone else's body? Maybe this was the Advisor's body. Probably not, because he didn't seem human, telling me to create a story to amuse him—what an asshole.

Anyway, was I lucky enough to have been put in what I assumed was one of the more expensive hospitals? Things weren't adding up, and as I was lost in my thoughts, I heard the door creak open. When I looked up, Blondie was peeking through the door, seemingly checking to see if I was asleep. When he saw me looking back at him, he smiled lightly.