I've got to really thank that truck… this was how I was supposed to live my life.
After getting hit back in my world, everything went dark. I thought I was done for..I thought I was really going to die. But then suddenly, I woke up and realized I had been transmigrated into a new world… inside a second-rate clan.
And honestly? Even though this isn't my original body, I've got freedom, riches, and way fewer bills. Not a bad trade.
But first… let's go back to when I first woke up.
Golden rays of sunlight poured through the window, brushing against my eyes.
"ugh…" I groaned, trying to sit up. A sharp pain shot through my ribs, locking every muscle in place. I couldn't even twitch without agony ripping through me. I had never felt anything like it in my life.
Then, suddenly, I heard a voice. His head bent toward me, his words trembling with relief.
"Youuung master, you're finally awake!" Tears streamed down his cheeks like rivers of fate itself.
I tried to say something..anything...but my throat betrayed me. Not a single sound came out.
"Young master, don't force it. You're still very weak, don't push yourself too hard. I'll go call the physician!"
And then...bro rushed out like DoorDash had just dropped off his fried chicken.
…Who was that? Did he just call me young master? Wait, where the hell am I? I'm supposed to be in a hospital. So why am I lying in a house that looks like it came straight out of an ancient Chinese drama set?
I tilted my eyes upward. The ceiling beams and the lanterns hanging from them told me everything...I wasn't in any modern apartment.
Alright, calm down. At least I'm alive.
Just as I convinced myself, I heard the soft slide of a door and hurried footsteps. An old man with long white beard entered, moving straight toward me. He gently wrapped his fingers around my skeleton-thin hand...if a hammer had touched it, I swear it would've snapped.
"His pulse is slightly better than before," the old man said, his voice deep and steady. "He hasn't fully recovered, but his condition is improving."
He nodded at the young lady beside him, and she handed him a small, round celadon cup...the kind of fragile porcelain you'd only see in history museums… or apparently, my new life.
Wait. What are they trying to do? Are they trying to poison me? No, no, no...!
I tried to shout, but my lips refused to form words.
The young man I had seen earlier leaned in close, whispering like some shady back-alley dealer.
"Young master, calm down."
The rim of the cup touched my lips. Bitter liquid slid into my mouth, and I gagged instantly. My first thought: Yep. Definitely poison.
But then… warmth spread through my chest, my breathing eased, and the fog clouding my head began to lift.
Phew. Thank God that wasn't poison.
The physician gave a satisfied nod. "He should be able to move freely within a week's time." He turned, bowed respectfully, and said, "I'll take my leave." Then he slipped out as quietly as he had entered.
My gaze shifted back to the young man beside me. Relief was written all over his face, his smile breaking free after what seemed like days of holding it back. His shoulders sagged as though he had just set down a mountain of worry.
"You don't know how worried we were, young master," he said softly, voice trembling with emotion. "Welcome back."
I blinked at him. Then at the old-fashioned room around me.
Welcome back? Bro… where the f** am I?