Nate sat at his desk, staring blankly at the front of the classroom as his teacher droned on about something he couldn't bring himself to care about. Maybe economics. Maybe history. He didn't care. It didn't really matter.
He was here because he had to be.
His school was expensive, prestigious, full of rich kids who either worked hard to maintain their family's legacy or wasted time knowing their futures were secured regardless.
He was neither.
His family was well off—filthy rich, if he was being honest—but he had never been interested in his father's business or his mother's social circles.
He had everything he could ever need, yet nothing that truly mattered. No passion. No purpose. No idea where he was supposed to go from here.
He'd tried things before. Sports, music, hobbies. Nothing ever stuck. He'd get bored, move on, repeat the cycle. He was smart enough to do well in school without trying, strong enough to not be weak, decent-looking enough to not be invisible—but that was it.
No one hated him, but no one really liked him either.
He had "friends," if you could call them that. People who talked to him, invited him to things. But he didn't care about them, and they didn't care about him. They just knew him as "that quiet guy who's always kind of there."
Not that he minded.
He preferred it this way.
At least this way, he didn't have to deal with their expectations.
The bell rang, shaking him from his thoughts. Students gathered their things, chatting as they filed out of the room. Nate packed his bag slowly, waiting until most of them had left before getting up.
Outside, the halls were filled with laughter, conversations, the sound of dozens of lives more interesting than his own.
He ignored it all.
The ride home was as uneventful as always.
His family lived in a massive house—practically a mansion—but it never felt like a home. Just a place he existed in. His parents were always busy, and even when they were around, they might as well not have been. While he used to be close to his siblings. Now, his siblings were all away at college and over time they grew distant.
He entered through the grand doors, nodded at the house staff, and made his way upstairs. His room was big, luxurious, filled with things he barely used. His bed was absurdly comfortable, his shelves filled with expensive books he had no interest in, and his desk was covered with half-finished projects he had long since abandoned.
But his laptop—that was the only thing that mattered.
He collapsed onto his bed and opened it, immediately pulling up the latest chapters of whatever novel he was binging. He didn't have a preference for genre anymore. He just read whatever distracted him from the crushing weight of existence. Cultivation, sci-fi, fantasy, thriller—it didn't matter. As long as it wasn't this world, it was good enough.
Hours passed in a blur.
His phone buzzed a few times—probably messages from people he didn't care about.
He ignored them.
He should sleep.
Just one more chapter.
His vision blurred. His limbs felt heavy, numb, as if sinking into something deep and endless. The world around him faded- no sound, no light, no breath. Just an empty, endless void. He was content in this void, free of everything.
But, then, bit by bit, sensation slowly returned.
A dull warmth. The weight of something soft beneath him. The distant sound of birds chirping.
His eyes fluttered open.
He wasn't in his room.
The ceiling above him was old, wooden, covered in cracks. A faint, musty smell filled the air, mixed with something herbal. His body felt… strange. Not painful, just off. Lighter. Smaller, maybe?
Frowning, he sat up, his hand brushing against rough fabric. He was lying on a thin, scratchy bed, covered by a simple woolen blanket.
He looked down.
His clothes were different. A plain, rough-spun tunic and pants, old but clean. His hands looked… smaller? Younger?
His heart pounded.
This wasn't a dream.
He wasn't hallucinating.
He had reincarnated.
The thought sent a wave of mixed emotions crashing over him.
Shock. Disbelief. A strange, quiet acceptance. And a spark of excitement.
Because deep down, some part of him always knew his life wasn't meant to last.
He had never cared enough to fight for it.
And now?
Now he was someone else.
The question was—who?