The air on the South Side of Chicago always smelled like a cocktail of stale beer, rust, and bad decisions.
Right now, that smell was the only thing grounding Shane in reality.
He was lying on a narrow single bed in the Gallagher family basement.
It felt like a sleep paralysis demon was sitting on his chest.
Shane's consciousness was thrashing around, screaming to wake up, but no matter how hard he tried to command his muscles, his body remained dead weight.
He felt like he was sinking into deep water. Fragmented, unfamiliar memories were forcibly injected into his brain like a bad hallucinogenic trip.
Shoulder to shoulder with two other boys, brawling with local thugs... Running through the snow in a thin t-shirt, freezing to the bone... A drunk white man slapping his face, slurring, "My little Asian bastard..."
"Fck...!"
Shane's eyes snapped open. He gasped for air, his chest heaving as he finally snatched back control of his body.
His blurred vision slowly sharpened. The first thing he saw was a low, water-stained ceiling.
Above him, a naked lightbulb dangled, casting a sickly yellow glow across the room.
"Shane! Thank God, you're finally awake!"
A hand reached out, aiming for his forehead to check his temperature.
But Shane, still running on adrenaline and confusion, recoiled like a stray cat. He scrambled backward, slamming his back hard against the concrete wall with a dull thud.
Only then did the room come into focus. There were people standing around his bed.
A brunette woman with tired eyes, a curly-haired teen, and a redheaded boy looking a bit spaced out.
They were all white... Since when was his house full of white people?!
What the hell? Wasn't I just sitting at home playing Elden Ring on my janky, self-assembled $50 PC?
Where the fck am I?
"Who the hell are you people?!"
Panic rising, Shane tried to scream at the strangers to back off.
In his head, he was shouting .
But what came out of his mouth was English, thick with a South Side accent:
"Fck! Who the hell are you people?!"
As soon as the words left his lips, Shane froze.
The three people by the bed looked at him with a mix of shock and fear.
"What the hell is going on, Shane?" Fiona's eyes went wide.
"What did you take last night?" Lip frowned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Calm down! Shane, just breathe. We couldn't wake you up for ten minutes!"
Fiona was frantic. Usually, Shane would wake up the second he heard footsteps upstairs.
But today, he hadn't come up for breakfast. When Fiona came down to bang on the door, there was no answer. She'd panicked, called Lip and Ian down, and found him totally unresponsive.
Shane—or rather, Shane Gallagher—wasn't hearing any of it. He scrambled into the corner of the bed, grabbing a pillow that smelled like mildew and holding it up like a shield. His eyes darted between these strangers who claimed to be his family.
"Get out! Everybody get the fck out! Who... who are you..."
His brain was short-circuiting, drowning in fear and alienation.
Anyone would freak out. One minute you're gaming, the next you spawn in a dungeon-like basement surrounded by strangers.
"Shane! Shane, what's wrong with you?!"
Seeing him spiral, Fiona's fear turned into protective instinct.
Ignoring Lip's hand trying to hold her back, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her shivering brother. She pulled him into a tight hug, rubbing his back as her voice cracked.
"It's okay. It's okay. It's me. It's Fiona. Did you have a nightmare? Look at me, Shane!"
In that warm, suffocating embrace, the dam broke. The flood of memories belonging to "Shane Gallagher" crashed into his mind.
Fiona Gallagher: The big sister. The one who basically raised them all.
Phillip "Lip" Gallagher: The older brother (by a few months). Genius. Asshole.
Ian Gallagher: The younger brother.
Then there were the little ones: Carl, Debbie, and Liam.
Frank: The degenerate alcoholic... who was now his "father."
And finally, himself.
Shane Gallagher: The extra kid. The Asian second son living in the basement. Quiet, reserved. His birth mother had bailed when he was a toddler, never to be seen again.
"Ugh... ah..."
A splitting headache made him groan. He clutched his head.
"Fck."
He cursed under his breath, but this time, the tone wasn't panicked. It was exhausted. Resigned.
After a long minute, the pain of the memory merge faded, and logic started to kick back in.
He understood now. He was Shane. He was also Shane Gallagher.
He had been transmigrated. Or maybe merged.
He was in the chaotic, messy, hyper-realistic world of Shameless.
Fiona was still holding him tight. He could smell the faint scent of cigarettes and cheap perfume on her clothes.
"...Fiona."
He rasped out her name.
Fiona froze, then pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands to make him look at her.
"Jesus, you scared me to death, Shane! What happened? You looked like you saw a ghost."
Lip crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, still skeptical.
"You sure you didn't pop something last night?"
"I didn't!"
Shane denied it instinctively, though his voice was weak.
He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart. He gently patted Fiona on the back.
"Fiona... I'm good. I'm okay. Just... just a really bad nightmare. I wasn't fully awake yet."
Fiona studied his face, her eyes glistening. "Thank God. Don't do that to me, Shane."
Shane looked over at Lip and Ian, forcing a weak, apologetic smile.
"Sorry, guys. I'm fine. You go on upstairs. I just... I need a minute."
Lip stared at him for a few seconds, looking for signs of a lie, but eventually shrugged. He grabbed Ian and headed back up the wooden stairs.
"Tell me if you need anything, okay? Shane, I'm serious..." Fiona fussed over him for another moment before heading back up to the chaos of the first floor. She still had to make breakfast.
---
The basement was finally quiet.
Leaning against the cold concrete wall, Shane took a look around "his" room.
It was cramped and dim. Aside from this corner that passed for a "bedroom," the rest of the basement was piled high with junk.
This was his life now.
"Holy sht..." Shane whispered, the reality sinking in. "I'm Frank Gallagher's son? I'm in Shameless?"
He tried to recall his birth mother—some Asian woman Frank had hooked up with briefly before she ran for the hills. The memories were blurry.
"Well, anyone who hooks up with Frank isn't exactly going to be 'Mother of the Year' material..."
He was in the South Side of Chicago.
He wasn't sure of the exact timeline yet.
"System... System?"
Shane tried calling out in his mind, clutching at a straw of hope.
If he was going to get Isekai'd into this hellhole, he had to have a cheat code, right?
As soon as the thought formed, a painfully familiar, tacky interface popped up in his vision—
Bright red background. White text. Obnoxious "SALE" tags everywhere.
Across the top, the logo screamed: TEMU: International Edition.
...
Temu? Are you fcking kidding me? Even in a new life, I'm shopping like a billionaire on a dollar store budget?
The interface was simple: Search Bar, Cart, Account.
All prices were in US Dollars.
He looked left, he looked right... yep, it was literally just the shopping app.
"Seriously?" Shane grumbled internally. "Couldn't give me super strength or laser eyes?"
Looking at the homepage filled with random junk, he tried focusing his intent on "Instant Noodles."
Instantly, the page refreshed. Rows of products appeared. The prices were obscenely low.
[Imported Spicy Ramen, 30 Pack - $1.59]
[Classic Beef Cup Noodles, 12 Pack - $1.99]
[Heavy Duty Military Canteen (Large) - $0.99]
...
"Whoa." He was actually stunned.
Two bucks for twelve cups of noodles? That was like... sixteen cents a meal.
Is this a glitch, or does this parallel universe have 1950s inflation rates?
Shane didn't care about the economics. He needed to test it.
He selected the [Classic Beef Cup Noodles, 12 Pack - $1.99].
There was no "Group Buy" nonsense, no "Spin the Wheel for a Coupon," no "Share with 3 Friends to Unlock."
Just a simple, beautiful [BUY NOW] button in the corner.
Shane tapped it with his mind.
[BZZZT! Insufficient Funds. Transaction Failed.]