Pain.
That was the first thing Leon felt. Not the dull, background kind of pain he had grown used to on Earth, but a suffocating, crushing agony that wrapped around his body like iron chains. Every breath felt like a knife carving through his ribs. His face throbbed with a deep ache, as though every bone had been tenderized by a hammer. Blood coated his tongue, thick and metallic, leaving his mouth bitter and coppery.
He tried to move—mistake. Fire shot through his nerves, his chest seizing in protest. A strangled gasp tore from his lips, echoing in the stillness. He froze, paralyzed, afraid another twitch might unravel him completely.
Where… where was he?
His eyes fluttered open with effort. Above him stretched a ceiling of thatched straw, rough and uneven, the kind he'd only ever seen in history documentaries or cheap fantasy illustrations. The smoky scent of burned wood lingered in the air, mingled with herbs and damp clay. A single oil lamp burned weakly on the side table, its flame bowing and straightening, casting shadows across the walls like restless ghosts.
He blinked again, registering the rough bandages wrapped tight around his chest. The cloth clung to him, stiff with half-dried blood.
This wasn't his apartment.
This wasn't Earth.
Earth. The word hit like a stone. His heart lurched as memories jolted through him—rain-slick asphalt, the glare of headlights, a horn blaring. That moment of weightlessness before impact, his body suspended in terror, and then—nothing. Darkness.
He had died. He knew it. He should have been gone. Buried. Forgotten. Yet here he was, choking on his own breath, lungs pulling air like a drowning man.
A sudden spike of pressure built behind his eyes. Leon groaned, clutching at his skull as if it might split open. His vision swam, and then—memories poured in. Foreign, violent, relentless.
A boy's body, thin and weak, curled on the ground as fists and boots hammered into him. Jeering laughter filled the air. The taste of dirt and blood. Above it all—Harold, the village chief's son, grinning wide as he spat on the crumpled body. On him.
The images sharpened, stabbing one after another, until the truth crashed down on Leon.
He wasn't himself anymore.
He was Leon—another Leon—the village weakling of a place called Kairos, a small, struggling settlement clinging to the edge of the barren lands.
"What the fuck…" His voice rasped in the smoky air, barely audible. From a cripple on Earth to… a loser here? Where was the cheat? The golden finger? At the very least, a healthy body?
He almost wanted to laugh, but the pain made even that impossible.
The tide of memories refused to stop.
The boy's father had once been a soldier, but had abandoned his family. He had vanished into the army, then sent word years later that he had married into a noble household. His wife and children had been discarded like refuse.
The boy had carried that resentment for years, festering in his heart until it consumed him. Fuelled by hatred, he had sneaked into the army recruitment trials, determined to prove himself. But with a frail, malnourished body, what could he do? His first opponent had been Harold, the same tormentor who had made his life hell since childhood.
Harold hadn't wasted the opportunity. Before the recruiters, he had made Leon a spectacle—blow after blow, each one designed to humiliate. The crowd cheered as bones cracked, as blood stained the dirt. Leon's family had cried out in despair, but their voices had been drowned beneath Harold's laughter.
The boy had fallen, broken. And then—darkness.
Until now.
Leon lay trembling beneath the thin sheet, chest heaving. So this was the body he'd inherited.
"At least… I have a family this time," he whispered hoarsely.
The words struck deep. On Earth, he'd had nothing. No parents who cared. No siblings to watch his back. Just the four walls of a cheap apartment that smelled of mold and takeout containers. Dinner had instant noodles more nights than not. His only companion—a wheelchair, rusting in the corner, reminder of the accident that had crippled him years before.
But here… even if this body was weak, it could stand. Walk. Run. That alone was a miracle. His chest ached, but deep inside, something almost like hope flickered.
And unlike Earth, he wasn't alone. The boy's memories—his memories now—were filled with the warmth of a mother and two sisters who loved him fiercely. Poor, yes. Powerless, yes. But real. Family. A reason to live.
Yet amid the pain, something else gnawed at him.
The women of this world.
They weren't ordinary. Not by Earth's standards. Faces like art, eyes bright and sharp, bodies lush and full. Wide hips, breasts ripe and heavy, backsides sculpted like marble. They were everywhere—beauty that would have been worshipped back on Earth was simply commonplace here.
And yet… the men didn't care.
That revelation seeped from the memories now etched in his skull. Men in Kairos chased honor, wealth, and military glory. They signed their lives away to mercenary companies or buried themselves in trade. Women were afterthoughts. Wives bore children. Mistresses warmed beds during festivals. Nothing more.
No candlelit whispers. No worship of beauty. No gentle hands exploring curves in the dark. Just cold, mechanical coupling for children.
Leon almost choked on the absurdity. A paradise wasted on fools.
Back on Earth, men clawed each other apart for women like these. Clubs, flashing neon, music that rattled bones—men threw fortunes just for a chance to touch women half this beautiful. Entire industries had been built around their allure. Billboards. Movies. Fashion.
Here, they were background scenery. Neglected treasures. Some of them probably didn't even know what pleasure truly was.
Unbelievable.
A slow grin spread across Leon's battered face despite the pain.
Not me.
'I'm going to enjoy this world and everything it has to offer,' he swore silently, clinging to the thought like a prayer.
The pain in his ribs still burned, his body still weak, but the fire in his chest was alive, sharper than anything he'd felt in years. A second chance, a family, and a world full of beauty wasted on men who didn't understand it.
This was his beginning.
Leon let his eyes close, exhaustion pulling him under. His lips curved faintly, a crooked smile lingering as sleep claimed him.