When I think back now, it all began on one of those unbearably ordinary summer nights.
I was Renji, a completely average high school student. My grades weren't bad—actually, they were slightly better than average—but not enough to make me stand out. My body? Well… I wouldn't say I was athletic, but at least I wasn't fat. In short, I was the kind of guy you'd lose in a crowd instantly.
No special talents, no club achievements, no friends to drag me around during summer break. Just me, my laptop, and endless free time.
While others spent their vacations traveling, gaming with friends, or going on dates, I… spent mine binging anime until my eyes hurt. Recently, everyone was hooked on series like Shield Hero isekai , Slime isekai , and other isekai fantasies. So naturally, I followed the crowd—well, in my own loner way.
That night, I closed my laptop at 2:00 a.m. sharp.
"Almost time to sleep," I muttered, suppressing a yawn.
But then I realized something.
"…Damn it, I forgot my water bottle."
Of course. At 2 a.m., a single mistake like that could be fatal. Because in my house, my mother waking up to find me still awake meant instant laptop confiscation. And without my laptop, summer vacation would basically be over.
Still, thirst is thirst. So, like a stealthy ninja, I crept downstairs. Each step had to be carefully measured—floorboards squeaked like traitors if I put too much weight on them. Even the faintest sound could wake someone… or worse. The air smelled faintly of the evening's leftover humidity, clinging to the walls and tiles, giving me the sense that the night itself was holding its breath.
I filled a glass with water. But then… the fridge. A primal instinct, you could say. Who can resist checking the fridge at midnight?
Inside were three Yukimi Daifuku. Mochi ice cream. Vanilla. The holy grail of midnight snacks.
For a moment, I could feel the angel and devil fighting on my shoulders. Eat it now? Or save it for tomorrow?
"…Tomorrow," I whispered to myself with saint-like resolve, closing the fridge. "I'll definitely eat it tomorrow."
With my water in hand, I tiptoed back upstairs, heart pounding unnecessarily, set the glass on my side table, and turned off the lights. And just like that, I drifted into sleep.
Time: 2:08 a.m.
cough
I woke up.
Why? I wasn't sure. My throat felt dry again, so instinctively, I reached out for the glass of water I had left beside me. My hand swung through empty air.
"…Huh? Where's the glass?"
Weird. I was sure I left it there. My eyes half-opened, and that's when it hit me.
Wait. Why do I feel so… light? My body, it's like I've lost ten kilos overnight. No, more than that.
I sat up. Slowly. My head felt fuzzy. The layout of my room… something was off.
"…What?"
The side table was gone. The light switch was gone. My walls were bare, my desk vanished.
Panic surged through me. I stumbled around in the darkness, hands frantically patting the walls. Each corner felt unfamiliar, the air colder than it should have been. Even the moonlight seeping through the window didn't feel like my old room's comforting glow—it felt sharp, accusing, like the world itself was mocking me.
"Where the hell is the switch…? No, wait, this isn't my room!"
My breathing quickened. Everything around me was different. Smaller. Colder. And yet… nothing about it smelled strange enough to suggest a nightmare. It was too real.
"Alright, alright, don't panic. Open the window. At least moonlight is better than pitch dark."
I groped around until I found it. The moment I slid it open, a gust of icy wind hit me. My whole body trembled, as if my bones themselves were shivering. The cool night air smelled faintly of wet stone and grass, the kind of smell that belongs to old houses in forgotten villages.
This wasn't my room.
More importantly—this wasn't my body.
"…F-Fuck."
My voice cracked. No, not cracked—it was higher. Childish. Eight years old at best.
I raised my hand. Thin. Fragile. Small. Definitely not my hand.
"What the hell… What happened to my—ugh, everything?"
I cupped myself in desperation. Smaller. This wasn't a dream.
Or if it was, it was the worst, most detailed nightmare imaginable.
"Okay… okay, think. This could be some new medical experiment, right? Reverse-aging drugs…? Didn't I overhear someone in class talking about China developing something like that?"
Ridiculous. But what else could explain this?
I pinched myself hard enough to sting.
"Ow—shit!"
This wasn't a dream.
"…My Yukimi Daifuku… I didn't even get to eat it."
The thought crushed me more than losing my body. Ice cream truly was the pinnacle of happiness. And now it was gone forever.
"Wait. Don't tell me… is this… isekai? No, no, no, no. That only happens in anime! And when they do, the protagonist doesn't become an eight-year-old kid overnight!"
But then again… my room was gone. Electrical appliances? Gone. The air itself smelled different—like old wood and dust instead of modern deodorizer. The floorboards creaked differently. The moonlight wasn't just light; it was sharper, highlighting the angles of furniture that weren't mine.
I staggered back, clutching my head. And then—pain. A searing, blinding pain pierced my skull like an arrow.
"AGHHH!"
Memories not my own flooded in. Strange images. A large, dark hall. Foreign words. Faces I didn't recognize.
I collapsed, choking. It felt like my insides were about to pour out of my mouth.
When the pain subsided, I lay there trembling. My head throbbed, but something was different now.
Memories. Not mine. But I could feel them inside me. The life of another boy.
"…Eryndor Kaelis…?"
That name burned in my mind. This wasn't just random nonsense. It was real. These were his memories—the child whose body I had taken over.
So that was it.
I had reincarnated.
And suddenly, that thought alone made my chest tighten in a mix of panic and excitement. Reincarnation. Sounds like the fantasy anime I'd spent all summer watching. But unlike the anime, this wasn't a screen. It wasn't a story. This was… my life now. My body wasn't mine. My memories weren't mine. And I didn't even get my ice cream.
Footsteps. Light but purposeful, approaching on the stairs.
Those weren't the curious, stumbling steps of a neighbor. These were the measured steps of someone who knew every groove in the wood.
The door opened. A woman stepped in—presence like a drawn blade. Her face had the kind of intensity that made lamplight step back. She carried an aura that made the air feel like something whispered behind velvet. She looked like a person who could announce an edict and have the house rearrange itself.
"Why are you awake?" she asked. Her voice was low and sharp; it carried authority.
"Uh... I was… thirsty…" The answer escaped before I could shape a different one. The body knew obedience he had not learned.
(Why does my mother come across like a final boss already? I just woke up in a kid's body, and she looks like a battlefield commander…)
She inhaled, brows narrowing. "Don't you make another sound," she said, and the sentence closed like a lid.
"Yes…" The voice that replied was small, automatic, obedient. Renji felt shame as if someone had shown him his reflection in a cracked mirror.
The door clicked shut. "Huff… that was close," he said aloud, attempting casualness that felt like a costume. He reached under the bed, found a candle, and lit it. The flame threw soft amber across pages of old books. The scent of wax and old paper was an anchor that somehow steadied him.
He read until the candle wax formed small moons on the candleholder. The books were basic primers: household customs, a guide to local etiquette, and an elementary grammar of the Concord Tongue. Recognition bloomed. He understood the words. Not perfectly, but easily enough. This wasn't luck; the child's memories had brought language and rudimentary cultural knowledge with them.
He sat back and tried to count possibilities. Eight billion people on Earth. One Renji. Why him? Why this body? Why Eryndor Kaelis?
Why me?
And then, a memory returned—the great hall. Columns reaching up into shadow, a central dais. The memory felt heavy, threaded with… strings. Strings of fate, pulling, tugging, like I was a puppet in some grander scheme.