"Patrick, get over here. You think I'm paying you to take it easy? Looks like you're getting another pay cut this month. Stop staring me in the eye and get the hell out," said an elderly, skinny man with a wrinkled face to his interlocutor, with a face full of contempt.
For the umpteenth time in one day, Patrick was being humiliated by his boss in public. Orphaned from both parents at the age of 3, Patrick had been entrusted to one of his aunts, who raised him until he was 18 before kicking him out of the house to monopolize his inheritance.
"One day I'll get out of this. And then they'll pay for everything they've done to me, with interest. No one will be spared," he said quietly to himself before getting back to work.
Throughout his school career, Patrick was a brilliant student. In class, in sports and even in everyday life, he succeeded in everything. He was simply a genius, surpassing his aunt's children in every way. This was what most annoyed his aunt, who tormented him relentlessly.
The year he was supposed to take his baccalaureate, because of money and other little problems, Patrick unfortunately failed. He was already 18, technically of age. When he decided to take possession of his parents' inheritance, he discovered that it had already been stolen by his aunt.
Furious, he tried to confront his aunt and was eventually thrown out. Sleeping under bridges for the first time, Patrick had to think about how to earn a living, and soon began working at odd jobs to support himself.
"Gather round!" shouted a young worker as the sky began to darken.
"It's all over now. Good work, everyone. Everyone come and collect your pay. Make a row, I'm in a hurry," a young lady shouted to them before starting the distribution.
"Holy shit, why does the boss look so cheap? We even got overtime this week, yet zero bonus," said a worker who had just opened his envelope.
Patrick's turn came next.
"Hey Patrick, I'm really angry. You've been ignoring me all week. What's the matter?" the young lady asked Patrick once he'd reached her level.
"Clara, actually... um... Can't you see that the boss is always watching me? He looks like he's going to rip my head off any minute I'm around," he told her as he opened his envelope to check his pay.
"That's normal, isn't it? I'm his daughter after all. When we have kids, you'll see what it's like to be a dad," Clara replied, turning her eyes teasingly to watch his reaction.
"We and who? Stop it with that, people might misunderstand." Patrick observed the surroundings before withdrawing.
"Patrick, will you come next week?" she shouted at him, her eyes full of stars, as he walked away.
"I don't know. We'll see, we'll see," he replied before fading from her sight.
Once again, Patrick had realized that being popular doesn't always pay off when you're poor. His pay had just been cut again. Normally, he'd complain, but what's the point? The boss would still give him a thousand excuses why he deserved it, just because he couldn't stand a guy like him hanging around with his daughter.
After a 30-minute walk, he finally arrived in the neighborhood where he lived. A shantytown on the outskirts of town. In this neighborhood, insecurity is at its height, especially at night. Patrick walked quickly to reach his home, avoiding the dark alleys, but unfortunately, he had just come across a group of thieves in the middle of a hold-up.
"Haha, who do I see? Patrick?! Fucking bastard!" shouted one of the young gang, holding a kitchen knife in his hand.
"Wait, so he's the famous Patrick? Hehehe. No wonder you stole his girl!" said another, taller than the first, with an air of mockery in his voice.
Patrick didn't even recognize them. His angelic face had already got him into a lot of trouble, but this time it wasn't looking good.
"Give me your bag, don't make me regret it", the one who seemed to be the leader of the gang told him.
Patrick had no intention of handing over the bag. True, he did value his life, but he'd already taken out a loan with a loan shark, which he had to return the next day at the latest. Opposing a loan shark? He'd rather die than have his organs harvested, tortured or sentenced to hard labor for crumbs. Between enduring this or finding a way to escape these petty thieves, the choice was clear. He had to find a way to escape.
Calmly, observing his surroundings, Patrick took advantage of a moment of inattention to begin his escape.
"Get that son of a bitch. Kill him!" shouted the leader, visibly angry and very annoyed, as part of his group set off in pursuit of Patrick.
The chase lasted almost a quarter of an hour. After a few minutes, no longer feeling his pursuers behind him, Patrick decided to take a break to regain his stamina. It was the gesture that had proved fatal.
A large kitchen knife had just plunged deep into his throat. One of the pursuers, apparently good at knife-throwing, had just got the better of him.
"Shit, man, you killed him? What the fuck did you do? I've never killed anyone in my life. You're on your own, hide the body or do whatever you want. I don't want to be your accomplice."
Tetanized by what he'd just done, the assassin also fled, leaving Patrick to drown in his own blood.
Lying on the ground as his vision faded, Patrick wanted to scream, but his vocal cords had just been severed. Inwardly, he cursed his aunt and blamed himself for not having lived the life he wanted. "Am I going to die so pathetically? Shit, if only I'd been hit by a truck, I'd have hoped to be reincarnated as an isekai to take it easy." These were Patrick's last thoughts before his vision went black and he lost consciousness.
"Hmmm..." Patrick had just opened his eyes, and none of the things he saw were familiar. This place wasn't a hospital, and the architecture of the room seemed a little peculiar to him. At his bedside were a few products he didn't recognize and a chair.
"Where am I? Have I been kidnapped?" he thought before hurriedly touching his throat to find that it was in perfect condition, with no scars whatsoever.
"How can this be? Have I gone mad?" he muttered before trying to get up from the bed. That's when he noticed that the body wasn't his. Panic-stricken, he tried to free himself quickly when, finally, he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror beside the bed. Frightened, he fell on his buttocks, trying to make sense of everything that was happening to him.
Suddenly, he was struck by a headache. Soon, foreign memories flooded into his mind, intensifying the pain.
After a few minutes, the memories stopped flooding back and the pain began to fade. Lying on the floor, Patrick couldn't believe what was happening to him. His heart was beating wildly. "Did I really transmigrate? Yet I wasn't hit by a truck. Hmmm, that's huge," he thought before taking one last look in the mirror.
"Déon... Déon", he muttered, recalling a few memories...
Patrick had been reincarnated in a fantasy world called "Eridoria", where magicians, swordsmen and knights were part of everyone's daily life. It was a living paradise for light novel fans. Patrick quickly accepted his situation. He was even enthusiastic about embracing his new life. "What kind of spell have I mastered?" he thought excitedly, before remembering Déon's situation.
"No power is useless. If light novels taught me anything, it was this," he thought, before noticing that the bedroom door had opened.
In front of him was a woman in her early twenties, black hair, brown eyes, with the body of a model, advancing towards him with a tearful look in her eyes. It was Déon's mother.
Caught by surprise in the scene, the only thing that came out of his mouth was:
"Mom!"
It was instinctive; he couldn't even remember clearly the last time he'd uttered the word so naturally.