The cramped apartment was silent, save for the faint rustling of paper. The overhead light flickered slightly, casting a dim glow over the room. A stack of unwashed dishes sat in the sink, a testament to weeks of neglect. The air felt heavy, a mix of stale air and apathy.
Slouched in a worn-out chair, Marcus flipped through the pages of Akame ga Kill for what felt like the hundredth time. The manga lay open on his lap, its panels offering a brief escape from the monotony of his life. He admired the characters, their drive, their purpose—qualities he felt he lacked entirely.
He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and sighed, his gaze drifting from the page to the cluttered room around him. What am I even doing? he thought. College had become a chore, a meaningless grind toward a degree he didn't care about in a field that didn't inspire him. Days blurred into nights, and the world outside felt distant, unreachable.
Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling. "What if things had been different?" he murmured to no one. "What if I'd been born into a different world, one where life actually mattered? Could I have been... happier? Could I have made something of myself?"
His thoughts spiraled deeper. He imagined a life with meaning, a purpose that drove him forward. A life where he could share joy with others, where his existence would leave a mark on the world. But those were just fantasies, he told himself. Dreams for someone who wasn't stuck like he was.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled at him. The manga slipped from his hands and fell to the floor with a soft thud. His eyelids grew heavy, and sleep overtook him before he could pick it back up.
---
When Marcus opened his eyes, the dim light of his apartment was gone. Instead, he was greeted by the rough texture of cobblestones beneath him and the muted chatter of distant voices. He pushed himself up, his mind still hazy with sleep, and looked around.
Towering stone buildings lined the narrow alleyway, their worn facades illuminated by torches mounted on the walls. The air smelled of smoke and something faintly metallic. Men and women in tunics and togas bustled about in the distance, their voices blending with the clatter of carts and the occasional neigh of horses.
"What the hell..." Marcus muttered, his heart pounding. He stumbled forward, trying to make sense of his surroundings. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn't even the same world.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Wherever he was, it looked like something straight out of history books. But this wasn't a dream. The ache in his knees from the hard cobblestones and the cool night air biting at his skin felt too real.
Confusion turned to unease as he took another step, glancing at the unfamiliar streets. He didn't know how or why, but he was here now. And for the first time in a long time, Marcus felt something stir in him—a mix of fear and... a strange sense of possibility.
Is this my second chance? he wondered.