Where the hell am I?, The words almost tore from his throat, but he choked them back, biting down on his tongue. His eyes darted around the room. It was a small, cramped space built of polished old wood. The dim light filtered through a single grimy window. This kind of building isn't in Oxforth Kingdom. Then where…?
His racing thoughts were interrupted as the green-eyed girl, who had been sitting a few feet away, rose and moved closer. She leaned in, her face now just inches from his. He could feel the faint warmth of her breath on his skin, and his heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm of fear and surprise. Instinctively, he flinched back. Not again. Is she going to accuse me of something now?
But instead of an accusation, he felt a light, sharp flick against his forehead. He winced, blinking in confusion. The protest... "What was that for?", was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He was adrift in a sea of the unknown, and speaking out of turn felt more dangerous than staying silent.
"Why are you still ignoring me?" the girl asked. "I told you I'm sorry already."
Her words left him utterly speechless. He had no memory of any argument, any apology. He didn't even know her. A cold realization began to crystallize in the chaos of his mind. Or… could it be?. The thought settled deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. Could it be I reincarnated? Just like in those old, fantastical texts I saw in the Book Of History?
Slowly, almost afraid of what he would find, he raised his hands. They were not his hands. These were the hands of a stranger. I really reincarnated. I'm really alive. I'm not dead… A wave of relief was instantly followed by a surge of terror. But is this a good thing? I don't know where this is. I don't know who I'm supposed to be. What if this world is worse than the one I left?
"Are you still mad at me?" the girl pressed, her deep green eyes searching his, pulling him from the abyss of his thoughts.
Clive... no, the person everyone here saw as 'Dave'. The name 'Tanya' surfaced in his mind from some hidden, instinctual place, a piece of this new identity clicking into place. "No, Tanya," he heard himself say, the name feeling foreign on his tongue.
Wait… how did I know her name?
A slight, relieved smile touched Tanya's lips. She stood up fully and stretched a hand out to him. "Let's go get something to eat. And don't worry, dinner is on me today."
He took her hand, his own still feeling unfamiliar, and let her tug him to his feet. He couldn't have resisted even if he wanted to; her grip was firm, determined, pulling him out of the apartment and into a narrow street lined with similar dilapidated buildings.
She led him to a bustling local restaurant, a loud, steamy place filled with the clatter of plates and the anxious conversation. They sat opposite each other on a wooden bench. Tanya immediately ordered with a confidence that suggested routine: beef stew, roasted shrimps, mashed potatoes with rice. She ordered enough for three people.
Clive, looking at the impending feast, couldn't help himself. "Isn't this too much?" he asked.
Tanya scoffed, her eyebrows knitting together. "Are you trying to make a joke out of it? Or something else?" When he could only offer a blank stare in return, her irritation flared. "Dave, don't tell me you hit your head so hard that you forgot. Today is our last day here."
She leaned across the table, her expression serious, as she grabbed his wrist, turning it over and forcing him to look at the back of it. There, etched into his skin, was a white mark. It was a symbol he didn't recognize.
Seeing his complete and utter bafflement, Tanya's shock was palpable. "Wait," she whispered. "You mean to tell me you forgot that we've been branded by the Game Maker? That tonight we'll be joining his game? The one with the 0.01% chance of survival?" Her grip on his wrist tightened. "Dave, you mean to tell me you forgot this very important thing?"
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The noise of the restaurant faded into a dull roar. The Game Maker. A brand. A 0.01% chance. The synopsis of his second life was more horrifying than his first.
Inside Clive's mind, a single, stark thought echoed, drowning out everything else.
Shit!
He had just been reborn, given a second chance at life, and it was already scheduled to end tonight..