The first blink was born of instinct.
The next was me trying to deny a glaring reality.
It's been two days since I woke up in this world. Two days since I closed my eyes in my apartment and somehow, someway, went all the way from there to this place.
At first, I considered it to be some kind of lucid dream. I'd never had one of those before, so I couldn't rule out the possibility. Or maybe I was just desperately clinging to the hope that I'd wake up back in my life at any second.
But at this point, saying it's a dream would just be stupid. I'd be deceiving no one but myself.
The plain, unaltered truth remains that this white, artistic concrete masterpiece of a ceiling is not what my apartment had. This is a far cry from the worn-out cardboard tiles that my landlord refused to change without upping the rent.
Reincarnation.
It is, isn't it?
"I'm screwed. Really screwed."
I reincarnated just like that.
No memory of dying in my previous life. No blinding lights, no "Truck-kun," no explanation from the busybody god responsible for the deed. Nothing. Just a hard cut from one world to the next.
This is crazy, and let's not forget unbelievably stupid, too.
Plus, isn't reincarnation supposed to start with childhood...? babyhood?
Maybe this isn't reincarnation. It's something else...
Transmigration?
Yes, that ought to be it. It means I died in my sleep back home, then woke up in this one as a result. A soul swap. All the books and movies I've read always share that singular premise. But they never mention how much it actually hurts to realize everyone you knew is gone while you're staring at a ceiling you don't recognize.
...Am I in a coma?
"Argh!" I ruffled my hair, tossing and turning on the bed. It was undeniably soft and warm. It felt like it was made of woven clouds. I haven't felt something this comfortable in all my life. Not as a child, and not even when my EX-girlfriend snuck me into her room and I got a taste of her own bed. (Literal bed, by the way.).
"Focus damn it, this is not the time!"
I slapped my cheeks hard. The sting helped clear the fog.
I need to calm down and think. If I really transmigrated, then that's that. No amount of crying, regretting, or wallowing in anguish would change the fact that I'm here. I have to first understand the situation I'm in, then find a way to navigate it.
"But mom... and dad... and big sis... and my well planned out life!"
Damn it!
This can't be happening! I can't be dead! I had a life!
"FINN! CALM THE FUCK DOWN!"
I literally had to scream some reasoning back into my head. I was losing it.
-Sighs.
I sighed, falling back on the smushy and cushy pillow.
Calm down, you big idiot. Panicking will only get you killed. You can't act until you fully understand the situation. If I want to go back to the life I knew, I have to first survive long enough to find whoever it was that brought me here.
-Bubbling.
"...I'm starving."
I rubbed my tummy over the PJs I had on. Nothing too fancy, just a normal top and bottom set, but the fabric was ridiculous. It was heavy and light at the same time, if that makes sense. With just these pajamas on, I could sleep on a huge rock and not feel a thing.
That's clue one, by the way. I am the son, or relative, of a wealthy family. Money is the only thing that buys this kind of fabric.
For clue two?
"Let's finally see what you look like."
I pulled myself out of the bed. Since I was sleeping right in the center of the huge ass thing, I had to stand and walk to the edge before leaping down. I maneuvered through the mess on the ground I made yesterday, kicking aside the silk pillows and velvet blankets I'd thrown in a fit of rage, thinking this was a dream and nothing I did would matter.
I feel so stupid right now.
In fact, for some reason, I've been acting so childish since I woke up here. Which is not me, by the way. I'm not someone driven by emotions, I'm a manipulative, dark-hearted, two-faced lying bastard who knows his stuff.
At least, that's who I've been for as long as I can remember...
NO.
That's a lie. I wasn't born that way. I was made.
I think I became that way in my second year of high school. I was what you would call the class clown back then. I was desperate for attention—the kind you can't get when your parents are to busy to care.
I just wanted to be noticed, to be a part of every conversation. To be heard. To be acknowledged.
But I guess I tried too hard. I became an object of mockery. The kid everyone laughed at, not with.
What broke the camel's back was the time before summer break when I summoned up enough courage to ask out a girl I'd liked for years.
"I could never go out with someone like you," she said. She didn't even look disgusted. She just looked like she was talking to a stray cat.
So broke the little heart of a boy trying to see the bright side of his otherwise bleak life.
But I don't blame her. In fact, I love her for rejecting that stupid, pathetic version of me. If she hadn't, I never would have evolved. I never would have realized that being "good" was just a cage.
I went home that day under the rain. No umbrella, no raincoat. I walked all the way home just thinking of my life—how people actually, like ACTUALLY saw me.
I got home. No one was around. I went to my room and turned on my laptop.
METUBE.
That was the day Finn Gerald met his end.
The day I came to be.
I came to understand one crucial thing.
EVERYONE is born different.
Some get all the luck. Others get half of it. People like me? None.
But that didn't mean I was condemned. It only means we all have different starting points. Life is one big chessboard. A playground, if you will.
Every player had a unique trait.
Some had looks.
Some had height.
Some had wits
Other had brains.
Few, had it all.
But I had none.
But that wasn't right.
It wasn't that I didn't have anything. It was that what I had wasn't something the morally driven would condone.
I began my research.
The internet is a great teacher if you know where to look. I found books on social engineering. Videos on psychology. They encouraged me. Taught me.
Life was so simple.
Humans were even simpler.
Know how they work, and you could control them.
A month after that, I became silent in class.
Never spoke a word unless spoken to. And even when spoken to, I'd analyze the individual asking the question, decide if they were worth the effort, then reply if I deemed them useful. I spent so much time analyzing everyone, creating a list of individuals with potential, and classifying them all into categories.
I created a system in my mind.
I called it the Grading System.
I convinced myself that life was all a game, and in a game, there are characters. Those characters all fall into various categories based on how they serve the MAIN character.
I had probably lost my mind, but who cares? I was no better when I was sane.
Third year and I was a completely different person entirely.
"This should be it,"
I was standing in front of a translucent door. It was see-through, but not really, given all you could see were color smudges and light shifting beyond it.
I reached for the knob. My hand was pale, the fingers longer than they used to be. I held it tight. Then I twisted...