When he opened his eyes, the world was vibrating.
The low hum of steel on rails filled his ears, and the rhythmic clatter of a train racing along tracks echoed in the background. A ceiling light flickered above him, throwing warm-white flashes over polished walls and neatly arranged seats.
"...Huh?"
He blinked. Once. Twice. The world didn't vanish.
Okay, so not a dream.
He sat up halfway, head lolling to the side. The window showed an endless countryside scrolling past at impossible speed.
"...This isn't my room."
The words came out rough, groggy, like he hadn't spoken in a week. His brain, meanwhile, was still loading like a phone on 3 percent battery.
Bits of memory trickled in—the flash of headlights, people screaming, something metallic cracking open—then nothing but black.
He pressed a palm to his face. "Right. The gang shootout."
He'd just been walking home. Wrong place, wrong time. Classic.
So either this was an afterlife designed by a train company, or—
[Ding! Welcome, Host! You have been selected by the Entertainment System Ver 1.0!]
The voice rang inside his skull like someone had dropped a cheerful jingle directly into his brain.
He froze. "...What."
[Initializing synchronization with host body (17 years old, male)!] [New identity created successfully — Michatsu Kashimo!]
The name scrolled across his mind's eye like credits he hadn't asked for.
"Great," he muttered, "a reboot with patch notes."
[Congratulations! You have been transmigrated to the World of Infinite Entertainment — where manga, music, and idol dreams collide!]
"Can I uninstall?"
[Request denied! Mandatory quest has been issued!] [Ultimate Goal: Become the Entertainment God (Mangaka / Idol / Creator / Etc.)]
He stared at the invisible text hanging in front of him, expression blank.
"…I'm too lazy to think about it."
A few passengers nearby gave him weird looks; apparently, no one else could hear the system's cheery voice. Kaito leaned back, trying to process things, but his thoughts kept sliding off like butter on a hot pan.
Transmigrated? Entertainment god?
Honestly, the only thing he wanted right now was a nap. Preferably one that didn't come with existential patch notes.
The train's intercom chimed: "Next stop—Neo-Tokyo Central. Please prepare to disembark."
[Tutorial Phase 1: Survive your first day in the new world!]
"Survive? That sounds ominous."
[Tip #1: Don't panic! The Entertainment System is here to help!]
"Yeah, you sound very helpful," he said flatly, rubbing his temples.
[Motivation level detected: 2 / 100. Activating Cheerful Mode!]
"Oh, don't you—"
[Good morning, Michatsu! Let's make your debut shine brighter than a thousand spotlights! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و]
He groaned out loud. "I hate this already."
The train screeched softly as it slowed down, and Michatsu finally noticed how dark the world outside had become. The reflection on the glass was dim—half his face, half the night.
Neon lights blinked faintly in the distance, scattered like dying fireflies over a sprawling city. A mechanical voice announced the stop again, too polite to match how dead the hour felt.
Neo-Tokyo Central.
Great.
He ran a hand through his hair, which looked a little too neat for someone who'd just been shot at in a past life. The system, apparently done celebrating his arrival, had gone quiet—thankfully.
For a moment, he just sat there, eyes on the floor, letting the silence stretch. He could feel the faint buzz of the train's engine underneath his shoes, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
"This is too much effort," he muttered.
The lights above flickered again. No one else seemed to be on the car; if there were passengers, they'd already disappeared into other compartments. It was just him, the hum of the rails, and that lingering smell of cheap air freshener that every public train shared.
He stood up anyway. The doors hissed open as if sensing his decision. Cold night air drifted in, sharp enough to make him wince.
Outside, the platform was almost deserted. A few vending machines glowed by the wall, humming like lonely guardians of caffeine and sugar. The overhead lights bathed everything in sterile white.
[Ding! Objective updated: Return "home."]
He stared at the floating text, dead-eyed. "You're kidding."
[Tutorial Quest 1: Reach your registered residence in District 9. Reward: 100 EXP, Starter Pack.]
"Starter pack," he repeated blankly. "What am I, a mobile game?"
The system gave a cheerful chime, as if proud of itself.
He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Whatever. Home it is."
He didn't know how he knew the way. Maybe the system had already uploaded some local data into his head, because his feet started moving without him really thinking about it.
The station exit opened to a narrow street lined with convenience stores and dim apartment signs. A delivery bike zipped by, music from its speaker echoing off the walls.
Everything looked normal—too normal for a world apparently made out of "manga crossovers." But the silence between sounds felt wrong, like the air was waiting for something to happen.
Michatsu ignored it. He was too tired to care.
The more he walked, the clearer his reflection became in every dark window he passed: sharp black hair, dull eyes, a body that looked just healthy enough to function. Nineteen, according to the system.
"I look the same," he mumbled, stopping under a flickering streetlamp. "Just… downgraded."
[Correction: Your new body's potential rating is B-tier! Quite good, Host!]
He groaned. "You again?"
[Affirmative! The Entertainment System never sleeps!]
"Good for you," he muttered, stepping around a puddle. "I do."
[But Host, your journey to glory has only just begun!]
"Glory can wait till morning."
[That's the spirit! Wait—]
He tuned the voice out. The streets were sloping downhill now, and at the bottom was a block of cheap apartments. The name "Sunrise Heights" was peeling off the sign in cracked gold paint.
Somehow, he knew that was "home."
He stopped at the entrance, staring up at the half-lit stairway. His head throbbed slightly, like it was catching up to a life that wasn't his.
"…So this is where I live."
The system stayed silent for once. Maybe even it could tell this wasn't a good time.
Michatsu took a deep breath, then yawned instead.
"I'll think about all this later," he murmured, pushing the door open. "If I feel like it."
The hallway smelled faintly of old carpet and rain. Somewhere, a TV was murmuring behind a door. He found his own apartment easily—Room 302.
When he stepped inside, the lights came on automatically. Sparse, but livable: small couch, desk with scattered sketches, a shelf full of artbooks.
He blinked.
So… I draw.
That made sense, considering the "entertainment" theme. He dragged himself toward the bed and collapsed without even taking his shoes off.
As his eyes started to close, a faint glow appeared above him again.
[Welcome Home, Host! Tutorial Phase Complete!] [Starter Reward Delivered](Check reward?)
He grunted. "Don't care. Tomorrow."
[Processing command: Sleep Mode Activated.]
The voice softened. The glow dimmed. The hum of the city outside faded into a lullaby of static.
And just like that, Michatsu Kashimo—transmigrated, confused, and too lazy to care—fell asleep in a stranger's life.
To be continued → Chapter 2: "The World's Noisiest Morning"