Am I having a nightmare?
That was Kahn's first thought when he opened his eyes and saw a woman hanging from a wooden beam, suspended by a white silk ribbon.
He remembered that just a moment ago, he'd put down his phone, ready to sleep—and the next second, he was standing here.
This... was completely unscientific.
Realizing he was probably dreaming, Kahn didn't panic. Instead, he calmly observed the scene before him. The woman didn't move—she was already gone.
A beam, a white silk ribbon, an overturned stool... from his experience watching historical dramas, this was clearly a suicide by hanging.
Because the woman had her back turned, Kahn wanted to walk around and see her face. But the closer he got, the stronger a strange resistance welled up inside him, as if some part of him didn't want to see.
As he struggled internally, footsteps approached. Turning his head, he saw a maid entering the room.
Clatter!
The plate in her hands dropped to the floor, fruit rolling everywhere. But the maid didn't notice—her whole body trembled before she finally let out a blood-curdling scream:
"AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The shriek tore through the air like a blade. Kahn, standing closest, felt his ears ringing and his head buzzing.
Are you the successor of the Lion's Roar technique, Your Excellency?
In a daze, he saw more people rush in—maids, guards, attendants. Upon seeing the hanged woman, they froze, and then chaos erupted.
Voices filled the hall, loud and frantic, until Kahn frowned in annoyance. He was about to shout for silence when a maid scooped him up and carried him away.
He tried to struggle, but his body refused to move. Completely limp, he could only watch as she took him into another room, laid him on a bed, and pulled a blanket over him.
Sleepiness washed over him again.
What kind of crappy dream is this? There's no freedom at all!
Kahn cursed under his breath—and then, he fell asleep.
Kahn dreamed again.
This time, he was a child. His parents were always by his side. He was happy, carefree… yet for some reason, their faces were always blurry.
Later, his father went to war.
Then—his father died.
And soon after, his mother followed—hanging herself right in front of him.
In that dream, the boy didn't even cry. He just stood there, numb, as a maid carried him back to his room.
"What a tragic story," Kahn muttered when he awoke.
He sat up, stretched, and yawned. "Haaah~ I actually had a dream within a dream. How magical. But damn, that kid was miserable. If I were him, I might as well—"
Kahn paused, looking at his reflection in a bronze mirror.
"…Wait."
A bronze mirror?
He looked down at his clothes—ancient garments.
Then, slowly, he looked up again at the mirror—at the face staring back.
It was the little boy from his dream.
"Holy crap!" Kahn and the reflection exclaimed at the same time.
"…"
"…I think I'll just go back to sleep."
He calmly lay back down, pulled the covers over his head, and muttered, "Yup, definitely still dreaming."
But hunger doesn't care about logic.
Soon, Kahn had no choice but to get up. His stomach was growling.
Using the memories from his dream, he stumbled into the kitchen and scavenged something to eat—only to end up squatting by the toilet a short while later, clutching his stomach.
"It stinks… no, wait. Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?"
He forced himself to think:
Answer:
I am Kahn, a young boy.
I transmigrated.
I have diarrhea.
That third one was irrelevant, but the first two? Pretty damn important.
He had transmigrated!
After twenty minutes of denial and existential crisis—mostly while his legs went numb from squatting—he finally accepted reality.
As he staggered out, rubbing his aching thighs, Kahn sighed.
"Sigh… there's not even a proper toilet here. What's the point of living?"
Then, with a smirk: "Just kidding. Better to live badly than die beautifully. I get it."
Now, it was time to gather information.
Using the memories of this body's previous owner, Kahn learned that his family lived in the Fire Nation Capital. His father, Tate, had been a soldier. His mother, Wen Yu, came from a well-off family. They had servants, guards—typical upper-class life.
Which made Kahn wonder… why the hell did his father go to war?
Was he seeking death?
Either way, Tate was dead. And the real kicker? This world had supernatural powers.
Even better—he had one.
This world was divided into four nations: the Air Nomads, the Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, and the Fire Nation. Each controlled one of the four elements—Air, Water, Earth, or Fire.
But there was one person who could master all four—the Avatar, tasked with maintaining balance in the world.
Kahn smirked. "Typical protagonist setup. What a pity I'm not the Avatar."
Still, being a Firebender wasn't half bad. At least it meant he had power. In times of war, being powerless was basically a death sentence.
He clenched his right fist and focused, recalling the movements from memory.
"Mmm—!"
Poof!
A small ball of flame flickered to life in his palm—then vanished.
Kahn stared blankly at his hand. "Wow… that sucked."
He sighed, trying to save face. "Accident. Just new here. Haven't adjusted yet."
After all, the kid whose body he'd inherited had trained since childhood. It made sense that his control wasn't perfect—yet.
Then, a thought hit him.
"Wait… where is everyone? My maids? The guards?"
He glanced around the silent courtyard—empty.
"Has my Great Qing fallen?"
He stood there, alone, the question echoing in the still air.