The moment the classroom emptied, I felt like I had just escaped a battlefield. My breath was uneven, my heart pounded, and my thoughts were nothing but static noise. Squeaks of chairs, giggles, the sound of heels tapping against the floor—everything blended into a chaotic mess inside my skull.
I exhaled sharply. Focus. I needed a plan.
Grabbing my phone, I quickly scanned the daily schedule. Lecture. Lecture. Lecture. Almost every class was marked with the same group of students. My fingers tensed around the device.
And then—it hit me.
A lecture hall. My own voice, smooth and confident, explaining complex mathematical theorems. The students—those same girls—my only students. Because I wasn't just a regular professor. I was a lecturer in an advanced interdisciplinary program: Applied Mathematics in Mechanical and Quantum Systems.
The sudden return of knowledge struck like a jolt of electricity. I gasped, gripping the desk for support.
So that was why my schedule looked like this. I wasn't just any professor—I was their professor.
I swallowed hard, grounding myself back in reality. At least this meant fewer people to fool. If I could just keep up the act with them, I might survive this madness…
My attention shifted back to the desk. There was a computer. If I had access, I could prepare.
With trembling hands, I scrolled through my phone. And there it was—a password manager app. I clicked it open, using the fingerprint scanner.
The list of saved credentials was long—emails, bank accounts, university logins. With a single copy-paste, the university laptop came to life, welcoming me like I belonged here.
I wasted no time. I scrolled through past lecture materials, notes, problem sets. My fingers instinctively typed equations, and the moment they did, something clicked inside me.
Numbers. Theorems. Graphs. The logic of it all. It felt natural.
It wasn't just Clarke's knowledge—it was becoming mine.
A shiver ran down my spine. I should have been terrified, but instead—I felt exhilarated. Like rediscovering an old passion.
By the time I realized it, students were already filing back in for their next session.
Back in Control
This time, I was ready.
The nerves were still there, but they were manageable. I stuck to the material, leaning into what felt familiar, letting muscle memory take over.
And to my surprise—I handled it.
No awkward mistakes. No slip-ups. If anything, I noticed how naturally the students accepted my presence. Even Amelia, the flirt, seemed impressed. Or maybe she just liked watching me talk.
The thought sent heat to my ears, but I ignored it.
When the final class ended, I dismissed them with a steady voice. I did it. I survived the day.
But as I stepped out of the building, my hands shook. The rush was gone, leaving only exhaustion.
I had to get home.
A Man With No Past
Driving was a nightmare. I gripped the wheel too tightly, my mind replaying every second of the day, trying to convince myself it had actually happened.
When I finally parked outside Clarke's apartment, I collapsed onto the couch, phone in hand.
It was time to dig deeper.
Wikipedia. LinkedIn. University profiles. Anything.
The results made my stomach drop.
Professor William Clarke. A brilliant mind in applied mathematics, specializing in computational models for highly classified experimental technologies. Published in multiple journals. Cited in government research papers.
And personally?
Nothing.
No family photos. No casual social media posts. His Facebook was practically empty. His LinkedIn, purely professional. No sign of vacations, relationships, or hobbies.
It was as if Clarke existed only for his work.
A creeping unease settled in my gut. Was this really just some unlucky body swap? Or was there something bigger?
I pushed the thought away. There was no time for paranoia.
Instead, I pulled up the university system and searched for my students.
Promoter of Two
Olivia Prescott. Sweet, innocent, always eager to impress. A model student, top of her class, researching predictive data models in quantum computing.
Amelia Blackwell. The playful seductress, but also—surprisingly sharp. Her research focused on mechanical fluid dynamics and high-energy physics.
And I was their official advisor.
My grip on the mouse tightened. I wasn't just their professor. I was responsible for their academic future.
The weight of it hit me like a truck.
A Sudden Realization
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
I had been so absorbed in being Clarke—so caught up in this new identity, this bizarre university, these strange girls—that I hadn't once thought about my real body.
Nathan. My old self.
Where was he? Was he alive?
Panic threatened to creep in, but I forced it down.
There was no turning back now. I had to commit. If I wanted to survive, I had to be Clarke.
But just as I reached for my phone, the world twisted.
The First Flashback
A sharp, cold pressure wrapped around my skull.
Then—darkness.
Concrete walls. A dim, sterile light. A small, suffocating room.
A figure. Someone else was there.
And a voice—Clarke's voice.
"Are you sure this will work?"
Then—nothing.
I snapped upright, heart hammering. My breath came in sharp gasps, sweat clinging to my skin.
What the hell was that?
What the hell did I just see?
And more importantly…
What the hell had Clarke done?