Chapter 2 – Waking in the Dark
The forest was quiet that night. The air was damp, the leaves heavy with dew, and the moon only barely slipped through the thick canopy of trees. The silence, however, was broken by the sound of hurried footsteps crashing through the undergrowth.
A group of boys stumbled into a small clearing, their faces pale, their clothes dirty. There were four of them in total. They looked no older than sixteen or seventeen, each one trembling as they carried something heavy between them.
That "something" was a man's body.
His arms dangled loosely, head lolling from side to side, legs dragging against the ground as the boys struggled to keep him lifted.
"Damn it, he's heavy!" one of them hissed, sweat dripping down his forehead.
"Just shut up and keep moving," another snapped, his voice cracking. "We can't let anyone see us like this. If someone finds out—"
"Don't say it!" the third interrupted, fear flashing in his eyes. "We didn't do anything, remember? He was already dead! We're just… moving him. That's it."
The fourth boy swallowed nervously and whispered, "Then why do I feel like this is gonna come back to bite us?"
Their conversation was filled with panic, the kind of panic that only comes when someone does something they have never done before. Their breathing was uneven, their arms strained, and even though they were trying to act calm, none of them looked convincing.
Finally, one of them muttered, "Let's just dump him here. The bushes are thick enough. No one will find him."
The others hesitated, then nodded in agreement. They crouched and awkwardly laid the body down on the damp ground.
The man looked lifeless. His chest didn't rise, his skin was pale, and his eyes were shut.
"Okay… okay, that's it," one boy whispered, his hands shaking as he brushed dirt off his palms. "We should go before—"
But before he could finish his sentence, the body twitched.
The sound it made was faint—like the creak of old wood—but it was enough to make one of the boys freeze. His eyes widened. "D-Did you see that?"
The others turned sharply.
The body twitched again. This time, it wasn't subtle. Its arms jerked, its legs spasmed, and its entire frame began convulsing violently against the ground.
"W-What the hell?!" one of the boys screamed.
The sound echoed through the forest, sharp and panicked.
All four of them stumbled backward, their faces drained of all color.
"N-No way… He was dead! We checked! He wasn't breathing!"
"Shut up! Just run! Run!"
Without thinking twice, the boys turned on their heels and bolted into the trees, their footsteps crashing through the undergrowth until the sound faded away.
The clearing was left in silence once again, except for the sickening, unnatural spasms of the body.
It twisted. Convulsed. Jerked like a puppet with its strings tangled. And then—
"Haaaaah!"
A loud, deep gasp filled the air.
The man rolled to his side, his mouth opening as he coughed violently. A thick stream of saliva spilled onto the dirt as his body shook. He coughed again and again until his chest finally loosened, and he collapsed flat on his back, gasping for breath.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. His lungs burned as if he had been suffocating. Slowly, his breathing steadied, though each inhale felt heavy and raw.
"…What… the hell…" he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Alexander Hayes blinked up at the forest canopy, dazed. The last thing he remembered was the truck. The blinding lights. The pain that exploded through his body like a thousand knives stabbing at once.
And then—nothing.
Yet here he was. Lying on the ground, alive. Breathing.
He sat up slowly, his muscles stiff, and looked down at himself. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and black pants. Not his office clothes. Not the wrinkled shirt and tie he'd worn every day for work.
"What is this…?" he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. His heartbeat was fast but steady.
He looked around. The clearing was surrounded by thick bushes and tall trees. The night sky above was almost invisible through the leaves, and the air was colder than he expected.
It didn't take long for unease to creep up inside him. He was in the middle of a forest he didn't recognize, dressed in clothes that weren't his, with no memory of how he got here.
Before he could think further, pain suddenly tore through his skull.
"Ghh—!"
He grabbed his head, his vision spinning. It felt like someone had shoved a burning hot needle straight into his brain and was stirring it around. Memories that weren't his own flickered in his mind—images, sounds, fragments of a language that wasn't familiar yet somehow understandable.
He curled onto his side, gritting his teeth as the flood of information pounded against his consciousness.
Minutes passed like hours.
When the pain finally began to fade, Alexander lay flat on the dirt, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving.
"…Haaah… haaah…" He exhaled heavily, staring at the canopy. Then, despite everything, he let out a weak laugh.
"Ahh, god… What did they call this in webnovels again?" He paused, chuckled again, and whispered:
"Yeah… transmigration."
The word felt strange on his tongue, but also weirdly appropriate.
Somehow, someway, Alexander Hayes had died.
And now, he was here.
Alive again.
But where "here" was… that was what he would soon find out
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