James was walking down the road when his vision suddenly blurred.
His steps faltered.
He thought it was exhaustion catching up to him.
Then, without any warning, the road disappeared from beneath his feet.
When his vision cleared again, James was no longer outside.
He was standing inside a classroom.
His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.
Heat clung to his skin.
His limbs felt weak, and his body was drained as though he had a heavy fever.
"A classroom? W-why am I here? I was on the road until a few seconds ago."
Every pair of eyes in the room turned to him.
At the front of the class stood a man in his mid-thirties, the teacher, who frowned slightly at James.
"James, is your fever acting up?" the teacher asked, concern creeping into his voice.
James didn't respond immediately.
His mind raced, trying to understand what had just happened.
His silence must have seemed like confirmation, because the teacher nodded slowly.
"You don't look well. You should go to the infirmary. Emma, please take him there."
A girl stood up from her seat.
She was the class representative, apparently named Emma.
She had long black hair that shimmered under the classroom lights and striking blue eyes.
Her figure would have been considered attractive by most standards, but James hardly noticed.
His head throbbed with pain too strong to care about appearances.
Emma walked over to him and gently placed a hand on his arm.
"Come on. You don't look good at all. Let's get you to the nurse."
James let her guide him, though his confusion only deepened.
He should be on a road. How did he appear in a classroom?
And something felt wrong with his body.
His perspective was lower, as if he had grown shorter.
He glanced at his own hand and froze.
The fingers were pale and thin, far thinner than they should have been.
His skin looked almost bloodless.
"What is happening to me? I was just on the road a second ago, and now…" he murmured.
"Did you say something?" Emma gave him a worried look.
He shook his head.
"Let's just get you to the infirmary, okay?" Emma said.
James nodded slightly and followed her out of the classroom.
As they walked down the hall, he looked around and realized the building resembled a high school.
The tiled floors, the lockers lined against the walls, and the bulletin boards plastered with schedules and event posters all reinforced that impression.
They reached the infirmary.
James's eyes landed on a mirror inside the room.
'Who is this?'
The person staring back at him wasn't James.
The boy in the mirror looked sickly pale.
His cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were slightly sunken.
'Why do I look different?' James thought.
Emma glanced around the room, then sighed. "Looks like the nurse isn't here right now. Sit down and rest. I'll go find her and bring her back."
James nodded. His head was too heavy to form a proper response.
Emma hurried out, leaving him alone in the infirmary.
A glowing screen suddenly appeared before his eyes, hanging in the air like a digital projection.
[Supreme System binding]
[Supreme System bound]
[Host has received five 'Gacha tickets' as newbie reward.]
James blinked in disbelief.
He tried to touch the screen.
His hand passed through it, as if it was a hologram.
"This…"
"This is almost like…."
"I transmigrated."
He was an avid reader of web novels.
Stories of people transmigrating into new worlds, waking up in strange bodies, and receiving mysterious systems weren't new to him.
He had read countless novels like that, but he never thought it could happen to him.
His confusion turned into frustration when he glanced again at the weak, pale reflection in the mirror.
"Why did I transmigrate into a weak body like this?"
Before he could think further, a sharp pain ripped through his head.
His knees buckled, and he grabbed the edge of the counter to keep himself from collapsing.
His mind flooded with memories that weren't his own.
He saw fragments of a boy's life.
James Gunn.
A normal high school student.
He had average grades, average friends, and he lived an average life.
Until a few days ago, that is.
On his way home one night, he was bitten by a strange man.
Since then, his health declined rapidly.
The memories faded, leaving James trembling.
He sucked in a shaky breath and looked back at the screen still floating before him.
[Host, you have only ten minutes to live.]
[Please check your status.]
James stiffened when he heard the feminine voice. It was calm and oddly casual.
"You can talk?" he asked.
[Yes, host.]
[Now, please say 'Status.']
"Status," James said, testing the command he had seen in countless novels.