There is only darkness after death… it's something I tell myself.
Reincarnation?
Judgment by the judges of the nether realm?
Gods?
Demons?
Heaven?
Hell?
There is nothing but darkness—or something else entirely… nothingness.
I look into the eyes staring back at me. My vision cannot fathom the entirety of that face, because even before those eyes, my own frame feels like that of an ant compared to a vast sea.
Their form is astral, and the pupils themselves are like stars, glimmering with a golden light. They seem filled with resentment—hatred directed entirely at me.
My lungs are out of breath—no, that state has already passed.
Only one mystery remains: how am I still so calm, so thoughtful, even while submerged in the depths of this lake?
Or is this merely a dream?
In that moment, only one name surfaces in my consciousness.
"Goddess of Fate!"
There is a bone-chilling silence as those eyes continue to stare at me. They are beautiful—divine—like a cosmic unraveling of living stars—yet they glare at me with grave animosity.
As I try to make sense of this madness, a colossal hand descends—The hand grasps me.
And when I finally open my eyes—
I feel the ground beneath my feet.
It is hot—unmistakably slate.
Something is very wrong.
My sight vanishes again, as if I am thrown back into darkness—but the sensation remains.
Heat.
As if I am standing near a fireplace.
Muffled sounds of grunting reach my ears.
Then—slowly—I can see.
I can sense.
I can feel.
The scene before me is unbelievable.
The air smells foul—filthy.
Two wooden pillars.
A wall made of dried clay.
A door covered by a ragged cloth.
That is all I can see.
But when I try to look back, something feels wrong.
I cannot move my body.
It feels like paralysis—but paralysis is supposed to strip away sensation.
Yet I can feel everything.
Heat.
The roughness of the hot ground.
The hot air scraping my lungs.
Only control is missing.
Wait.
Where am I?
What is going on?
My hands rise in front of my face—not by my will.
My pupils fixate on a piece of burning wood.
Heat washes over me.
And then I understand.
The hut I am inside is on fire.
But instead of running, instead of panic—
I feel a smile stretch across my face.
Wide.
Unnatural.
Uncontrollable.
My body begins to sway, moving in a dancing rhythm of its own holding the burning wood.
From outside, I hear screams.
The small, filthy room I am in glows orange and yellow as the flames engulfs the walls.
Every movement is out of my control.
Even my breathing does not feel like mine—as if my body is possessed by an external force.
As I step back, my ankle strikes a wooden utensil.
It tips over, spilling slosh and vegetables across the ground.
And then—
I saw something horrifying.
This is not my body.
The reflection before me is distorted by firelight, glowing red and orange, bathed in a warm, hellish hue.
The boy staring back appears to be in his early teens.
His body is severely malnourished.
His head is completely shaved, bald.
His eyes lacking intelligence.
A wide smile stretches across his face as he dances, then slips and crashes onto the ground.
"AGHH!"
Pain explodes through my nose as my head jerks violently for a moment—but instead of curses, laughter bursts from my mouth.
Drip.
Drip.
Blood spills from my nose.
"WHAT AHH…"
A man with a hawk-like nose gasps as he stares at the flames.
He is tall and bulky,with thick hair covering his chest. A beard reaches his collarbones, his hair disheveled and wild. He isn't wearing any clothes—standing frozen, as if his mind seems as if stopped working.
I realize something horrifying.
The culprit of this fire is no one else but me.
Is this a dream?
No—the sensations are far too real to ignore. Even the pain from my broken nose doesn't feel unreal.
When I try to recall, to decipher my predicament, only one conclusion makes sense.
I died.
And this is some sort of transmigration.
The last thing I remember is drowning in Crescent Lake—
Voi.
My old junior tried to save me.
But in the end, it seems she failed.
A bitter feeling rises within me. Dying at such an age… and now this—what kind of existence is this?
What am I?
If there is death, then why am I still feeling all of this?
Why do I still exist?
The terrifying eyes of the Goddess surface in my mind—
eyes that made me feel as insignificant as an insect.
Is this a second chance at life?
Then why did the Goddess looked at me as if she wanted to chew me alive?
A chill runs down my spine.
And why haven't I completely possessed this body?
Is this also part of the Goddess's will?
There are countless questions tormenting my mind—but no one is there to answer them.
"YOU MAD SON OF A BITCH!" the burly man screams.
His eyes are bloodshot as he glares at me with deep hatred. I can feel the killing intent pouring out of him—raw, unfiltered—but I can't even take a step back.
I simply don't have control over this body.
A fat, unsightly woman—half-naked and hastily covering herself—moves to the man's side. Her eyes look as though they're only centimeters away from popping out of their sockets.
"HUSBAND! … WHAT IS GOING ON?!"
Her words stumble over one another, heavy with shock and horror.
It becomes clear that the owner of this body is the one who burned their house.
But why?
Why would he do this?
The question gnaws at me. What kind of grudge could a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old possibly hold to commit something like this? No matter how I try to reason it out, it doesn't make sense.
BAM
The old door swings open as people force their way into the house.
"FIRE!"
"THERE'S A FIRE!"
Shouts erupt from every direction.
The couple stands frozen in the chaos, their expressions twisted with shock, shame, and despair. The man keeps throwing murderous glances at me as he shields his wife, dragging her toward the inner room—already being swallowed by flames.
"In this state, you mad bastard!"
People hesitate when they notice the couple's naked appearance. Some turn their heads away, others step back awkwardly, before buckets of water are thrown onto the burning house.
"I can't live with this humiliation…"
Tears of despair stream down the man's face as the woman collapses to her knees.
I feel a faint pang of guilt at the sight.
He no longer looks like he wants to kill me.
What fills his eyes now is despair.
His wife sobs uncontrollably on the ground.
Anyone would break in this situation—their home, their possessions, everything they built, all gone. Even their dignity is stripped away as a few people snicker at their appearance.
The man cries openly. Then, from a shelf near the fireplace, he grabs a butchering knife, shielding his wife behind him.
"What is there left to live for, dear?" he says through sobs.
But the smile on the owner of this body never fades.
It grows wider.
The body dances—playful, carefree.
The man looks at me.
A shiver runs down my spine as he lunges forward, the butcher's knife raised.
Shit. Am I going to die again?
I feel remorse for their suffering—but the thought of dying one more time overwhelms everything.
Just as he charges, someone from the crowd throws herself in front of me.
"AGH!"
Her cry is sharp with pain. Warm droplets—tears—fall onto my face.
All I see are her lips… and a glimpse of silver hair beneath a hood.
"STOP!" she shouts, clutching her shoulder where the knife has slashed her. Blood begins to ooze through her fingers.
"Y-YOU! KNOW HIS CONDITION..R-RIGHT?!"
The man stiffens, glaring at her with raw hatred.
"AND WHAT THE HELL!.. DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ME?!" he roars.
The hooded girl scans the burning hut, silent, understanding something unspoken.
"I'LL KILL HIM!"
Wincing in pain, she grabs me and drags me outside.
A chilling fear creeps into me, deeply uncomfortable—because everything feels different.
…The situation.
And the way this body feels.
It's suffocating.
This situation is anything but tragic or sad. If I were in their place, I would beat someone to death—but killing? That's something I wouldn't do.
Yet something is wrong.
This doesn't feel normal at all.
My mind feels—
Tranquil.
Calm.
Too calm.
As if this situation is ordinary… and that realization itself is terrifying.
How can I feel this calm?
"Didn't I just die moments ago?"
And this body—these sensations—
The rush of excitement churning in the stomach.
The mouth hanging open as she drags this body while running.
As if this is a game.
It's deeply disturbing.
Yet the fear doesn't feel real.
The only things that do feel real are my thoughts—and my sense of self.
It feels as if all my emotions are gone.
"Lucain! You idiot!" she scolds, her voice still etched with pain.
The light grey robe she's wearing is soaked in blood at the shoulder as she holds me in her arms while running.
The wound there is bleeding even more because she's carrying this body—she's clearly in immense agony.
"Lucain?"
The strangeness of that name feels oddly familiar. My real name is Lucien—different—yet the way the owner's heart thumps when she calls it, the tone of her voice… it makes the name feel disturbingly close.
"DEMI-HUMAN! BITCH!"
"SHE'S RUNNING WITH THAT MAD BASTARD!"
People scream as they trail behind us.
"Shit!" she curses under her breath.
She's a little tall, but her frame is delicate and slender. The only thing that feels wrong is this body—too malnourished, too frail, painfully petite.
"HORRIBLE! HE KILLED HIMSELF—WITH HIS WIFE!"
Someone screams, and the crowd's curses grow more vulgar, more violent. The intent to kill is palpable.
I know if we're caught, it won't be a beating or a reprimand.
Who knows?
They might chop my head off.
Stuff me into a sack with snakes and dogs and throw me into some river!
It's horrifying—because I can feel everything this body feels.
Pain.
Breath.
Joy.
The only thing I lack is control.
Which means my death won't be easy.
All I can do is hope she outruns them.
"Lucian," she mutters.
Drip.
Drip.
Tears stream down her face, and I catch a glimpse of her golden eyes.
"What have you done…?" Her voice breaks. "They're dead!"
Despair seeps into every word.
Her speed increases—unnaturally so. Almost inhuman.
And the blood only soaks more and more into her robe.
"They are dead…?
So why—why don't I feel anything?"
My eyes—or rather, the owner's eyes—are fixed on her crying face. Even the smile on the owner's lips fades, and the strange joy stagnates, sinking back to some empty baseline.
The pressure of the wind intensifies from her unnatural speed, pulling her hood back. Shoulder-length silver hair streams behind her, swaying violently.
Her face is delicate. She looks like a young lady in her late teens—beautiful in a unique, elegant way.
Her lashes are thick and pale, white like fresh snow. Her golden eyes are filled with pain and fear.
Tears stream down her flawless skin, untouched by any blemish.
Her cheeks are high, faintly rosy, and in that moment she looks like a grieving deity.
But what truly seizes my attention—
A pair of feline ears twitch atop her head.
Where human ears should be, there is nothing.
She doesn't look like something born from evolution.
She looks like a being pulled straight from some ancient folklore.
But in a strange way, even as I feel her heartbeat thumping against my chest and the warmth of her bleeding body, I remain detached.
The sensations are real—unmistakably real—but if this were my previous life, I would have—
Screamed.
Begged.
Kowtowed.
I would have collapsed before others after someone died by my hands.
I would have felt flustered—ashamed—to even be touched by someone so otherworldly, so beautiful.
Yet my heart remains unmoved.
Only a single question troubles me.
"Why don't I feel any emotions?
And—
What is the nature of the things we call emotions?
Are they merely chemical reactions—dopamine, serotonin—bound to the flesh?
Are they inseparable from the body itself?
If that is true, then what am I right now?
Why does it feel as if a part of me has been stripped away?
I am no longer human—but something that has transcended, or perhaps lost, the bodily needs and desires that define humanity.
…So are emotions only connected to the body?
And if I were to fully possess this body—
Would I regain my humanity?"
I think more and more about the different possibilities.
Maybe I am detached from this reality—but that is a fact.
"I am.
Yet at the same time, my interaction with the outside world remains dull, unexciting—
and still, I can feel everything the owner of this body feels.
Every sensation.
Every physical response.
That is when I finally understand.
I am not free.
I am not reborn.
I am not living.
I am merely a prisoner of this body."
"AGGAHHH!" she screams in pure agony.
She is clearly pushing herself beyond her limit. Soon, the figures of the crowd can no longer be seen, and the screams and curses fade, growing quieter as she runs farther and farther away.
"Haa… haa…" she pants, breath coming in ragged gasps, yet she does not dare to stop.
She keeps running toward the tall trees ahead.
At this moment, one side of her sleeve—where the man slashed her shoulder —is soaked in blood, a stark contrast to the other side, which remains a clean, light grey.
Her rosy skin has lost its color, turning pale. Dried tears and sweat cover her beautiful face. She is clearly in a dire state.
"If this continues, she might die of blood loss," I calculate.
I have to observe more—because observation is all I can do in my current state.
The concept of transmigration always felt like dogshit to me.
What an unrealistic thing. Someone once recommended a novel like that to me, and I dropped it after the first chapter.
It's unreal.
Daydreaming.
I rejected fiction wholeheartedly because I was never the kind of person who would fall into escapism.
But now, however, I am trapped in this predicament.
"So there is something after death, after all…"
As I stare ahead, the trees loom tall, and the clouds seem to brush against their crowns. It isn't that the trees are enormous—rather, the clouds feel unnaturally close.
The air is moist and fresh, as if the entire world is trapped in the Golden Hour.
It looks beautiful, calming even—but my situation is anything but safe.
THUD
"Huff… huff…"
She collapses near a small stream of water, drinking greedily from the stream before falling onto the soft, green grass.
The owner of this body mimics her actions playfully, copying her movements without thought.
"Mai… Maiyu," my lips mutter.
The words come out uneven, childish. The voice is boyish—nothing like my own deep voice.
I know it is the owner of this body speaking.
"So he can speak?"
Tears well in her eyes as she stares at my face with longing.
"What kind of relationship do they have?"
The question lingers.
"Lucain… you… you remembered me!" she says.
Her tears do not stop. She struggles to straighten her back, her body trembling.
"Big Sis," my lips move again.
Tears stream down my face, and a warm sensation spreads through my chest.
The feelings are complex.
Sadness.
Fear.
Longing.
Guilt.
My steps move on their own, slow and careful. My gaze fixes on her wound as my arms wrap around her gently.
Yet I can separate these feelings from myself.
I feel amused—at first, the emotions were uncontrollable, like a raging sea.
Now, I can clearly decipher what the owner of this body is feeling.
"Amnesia?"
It is the only explanation I can think of. I know of such a condition.
Her shoulders shake as she sobs. She turns toward me, clutching me tightly, crying without restraint.
"…"
So, what I know so far is this:
the owner of this body has amnesia,
he is mentally challenged,
and for some reason, this strange girl is his older sister.
The reflection of the owner's appearance—what I saw in the burning hut—returns to my mind.
"His ears were human, placed normally… and his brows were dark, unlike hers…"
Her hair is silver and she has feline ears – like that of a cat.
A possibility forms.
"Half-siblings?"
I assume.
I know my assumptions could be right—or wrong—but…
"I'm scared, Lu!" she sobs, her body shaking.
The owner's hand pats her shoulder, and silent tears fall from my eyes (owner of this body) as well.
All I can see is the azure sky above, the soft grass beneath us, and her bleeding limb—her trembling body resting against mine.
"Poor thing."
One thing I cannot be wrong about is their bond—
She threw herself forward to protect the owner of this body.
She carried him while she herself was in a miserable state.
"This girl deserves nothing but my respect."
Her sobbing doesn't stop, but I can feel the owner's emotions turning chaotic:
It feels like a mess, as if the owner is trying his best to cling to himself, but a large wave is crashing onto him.
The fear dissipates, and the longing—and the vision—seem to blur,I could feel the pupils shaking violently.
The body trembles uncontrollably, as if the owner is trying his best to cling on to the movement, but eventually the body relaxes, leaving behind something that seems like a broken puppet.
I can no longer decipher the owner's emotions. They feel chaotic—like a violent storm. I can't understand anything.
The owner breaks away from her embrace.
The last thing before facing the forest was her face—her eyes wide, her golden pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
"LUCAIN!" she shouted, her voice strained and weak.
All I feel is the soft grass beneath my feet and water splashing as I run.
Behind me, her muffled cries fade, vanishing as I venture deeper into the forest.
"Tch… dammit. She'll die."
I can't help but feel bitter. Even if emotions barely remain within me, I still can't accept—morally—leaving her behind, bleeding beside that stream.
But again—
What can I do?
I'm merely a prisoner. That's all I am.
The heart thumps wildly, and a wave of pleasure and excitement floods his chest as his speed increases.
But compared to her pace, that girl—"Maiyu."
Body 's Owner's speed is no better than that of a toddler.
As I pounderd all my collected information.
I realized one thing.
I'm fucked!..no matter how I look at it!
It's not just my frustration–my thoughts are no longer restrained and clouded by emotions it's clear and calm.
" I'm fucked!..it's a fact!"
***
"Why… why is all of this happening?"
A young woman with a pale face and tear-filled eyes lay on her back, disheveled silver hair clinging to her cheeks as her gaze remained locked onto the azure sky above.
It was Maiyu.
She wiped at her tears, but more spilled out anyway.
"Shit," she muttered, her expression hardening.
With great effort, she forced herself onto her knees. Her body trembled as she took off her cloak, fingers stiff and unsteady, and tore open the thin white tunic beneath it.
"Ugh—"
She snarled through clenched teeth.
"Aghhh!"
A blood-stained strip of cloth peeled away, tearing free with a sickening scrape as it pulled loose a layer of dried blood. Pain surged through her shoulder—sharp, merciless. Even her tears seemed to abandon her then, leaving behind only agony and despair.
"Lucain… why do you have to become like that?" she whispered, her voice breaking with every uneven breath.
She tore away more fabric around the wound.
Her skin was pale from blood loss, but as she washed it with water, something unsettling became clear—much of it had already healed.
As a half demi-human, her body possessed strength, agility, and a regenerative ability far beyond that of ordinary humans.
But that blessing was not always a mercy.
Healing at such an unnatural speed did not dull the pain—it amplified it.
The sensation was worse than the injury itself, as torn flesh forced itself back together.
The only consolation was that her recovery far surpassed that of any human.
Even so, it had its limits.
The wound was deep. The bleeding had stopped thanks to rapid skin regeneration, but beneath the surface, the muscle was damaged—and the shoulder's rotator cuff had been torn.
At least half a month would be needed for a full recovery.
"WHO'S THERE?" she barks.
A boy around Lucain's age steps out from behind the trees, sweat rolling down his forehead as his eyes land on Maiyu.
His face is delicate, almost doll-like.
Golden hair frames icy blue eyes.
Maiyu presses her lips together.
"Aurelian?" Her golden eyes lock onto him with intensity.
"BlackSmith Haru and his wife… what did you two do?"
"Tch. You— You're here to help those villagers, aren't you?"
"…"
Aurelian looks at her, confusion flickering across his face.
"I heard some children laughing," he mutters. "They were running naked and hid themselves in a neighbor's house."
"…"
Maiyu stares at him, her golden brows twitching.
"What?"
Maiyu stared at him with utter caution, constantly looking around to see if anyone else was lurking behind.
Silence hung in the air, but no one spoke. Maiyu felt some weight lessening her worry.
So they are not dead…
Yet she looked at Aurelian, who had a stiff stance. He maintained his distance as if he were facing an injured beast.
"So they are alive?" she asked.
Aurelian nodded.
Maiyu barely held back the urge to relax and collapse onto the soft green grass, but she knew this kid couldn't be trusted.
Although Aurelian looked like an innocent doll, he was clever and crafty. She still couldn't tell if some people were circling her in an ambush.
"…"
Aurelian scanned her torn sleeve, her bloodied shoulder, and the way she was gritting her teeth while looking at him as if she wanted to tear him into shreds.
Gulp.
He swallowed his saliva.
He felt as if he were frozen under her gaze.
"W-Where is Lucain?" he asked with hesitation.
Miyu gritted her teeth and didn't answer.
***
"I'm fucked… I'm so very fucked!"
As the owner walked deeper and deeper into the forest, even though the sun was shining above, the light seemed bleak because of the lush canopy.
FwWHH–
I felt a gust of wind on my face, and if I could—
I wanted to run.
Run for my life.
" JUST WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?"
I feel wrongness—and nothing else.
But the owner of this body, whose control still lingers in the outside world, seems completely unaffected.
KHHRRHA!
A giant bird with pinkish feathers and an enormous frame stands in front of me.
Its talons are large enough to tear a grown man in half. Its eyes are crimson, and it stands nearly two meters tall—yet its talons are unnaturally massive for its size. The only thing comparable to them is its beak: thin, sharp, and capable of tearing into a chest without effort.
SCREECH!
The giant bird spreads its massive wings and launches into the air.
"What a good way to go."
I watched the receding figure of the bird as it flew higher and higher, turning into a vague dot until it finally disappeared from sight.
The bird disappeared in the sky.
***
Amidst the forest stood a boy with soft golden hair cascading down his shoulders. His blue eyes were filled with caution, and his doll-like face held a forced smile.
"Are you okay?" Aurelian asks, his tone carrying hidden worry.
Maiyu grits her teeth. Her face is pale, and the grip on her injured shoulder tightens. Her guard is still up.
"What do you care?" she barks.
Aurelian's shoulders tense. He remains cautious—demi-humans, even half-bloods, are extremely dangerous.
Her golden eyes and fierce appearance make her look like a cornered, injured cat.
And that makes her even more dangerous.
"G-Gulp… You're bleeding. And where is Lucain?"
She doesn't answer.
What if that man—the one whose house he burned—was hiding in the bushes and found Lucain?
What would he do?
The thoughts are horrifying. Complex.
"Father Ralnr went to the couple's house," Aurelian says. "He asked me to search for you two around the outskirts of the forest."
"What…?" Maiyu's guard lowers for a moment as she finally mutters.
A bead of sweat dripped from Aurelian's forehead as he spoke, trying to reassure her.
"You don't have to worry. Father Ralnr will take care of everything," he said.
The name Father Ralnr seemed to affect her deeply, as if a great weight had been lifted from her mind. The firm grip on her shoulder loosened, and her expression softened a little.
"Tch…"
With some difficulty, she stood up and pulled on her grey cloak.
"Crap…" she muttered weakly.
Aurelian, noticing her slightly calmer demeanor, looked at her, anticipating an answer.
"He will be fine," she said, shaking her head as she stared into the depths of the forest.
"Fine?" Aurelian's face paled. His eyes widened in horror.
"..."
There was a distance of fifteen steps between them.
"H-HE WENT THERE!?" Aurelian barked, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
Miyu remained still, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
"Why are you so relaxed? It's dangerous! I came this far, and it's already too risky!" Aurelian panted, the forced smile he had been wearing completely gone.
"Everyone in the village is right about you two!"
"Tsk!" Miyu snorted.
***
Just what kind of bird was that?
The question lingered as, from time to time, I encountered bizarre creatures.
A butterfly with deep red wings and an obsidian-black body—it was at least thirty centimeters wide. It looked unnaturally strange.
Every now and then, I saw insects curled into spiral-like forms, and what made everything feel even more unreal was their size.
They were enormous—far larger than anything I had ever seen on Earth.
As the owner of this body walked across the moss-covered ground, the light slowly disappeared. Fireflies glowed faintly in the darkness, and giant mushrooms rose from the earth. Algae—or perhaps some kind of fungus—clung to the trees, glowing purple and blue at intervals.
"Beautiful and bizarre."
Those were the only words that could describe this place.
But if I were the one controlling this body, I would never dare to come anywhere near this place. It feels unreal and mysterious.
Until now, none of the creatures have harmed me, nor have they paid any attention to me—but one thing is clear.
Many thoughts came into my mind—
"What if these insects forced themselves into my mouth and nose, eating me alive from the inside?
What if my body were slowly consumed by the damp, decaying moss beneath my feet?
Or what if that bird came back and took me to its nest, where its offspring would tear open my intestines?"
All of these thoughts were possibilities.
They weren't driven by fear—just what ifs.
But one thing I do know is this:
If any of that were to happen to the owner of this body—who is currently controlling it—
Then my soul… or whatever my existence is right now…
Would also suffer through it.
CHHHZZH
I feel a surge of fear as the frail owner of this body suddenly jolts away.
ROAR!!
A bear stands before us—its physique unnaturally massive. At least five meters tall on its hind legs, its fur is pitch black.
Somehow, even with his weak intelligence, the owner of this body manages to hide inside the crack of a nearby tree.
It's filthy.
I feel small worms crawling across my skin, leaving behind a slick layer of mucus.
If I still had my emotions—and if I had control over this body—I would have puked until my heart gave out. It's utterly disgusting.
Chhrrhh…
There's something out there.
I can't see it clearly—darkness swallows it—but two faint lights glimmer, and I can tell something is there.
The giant bear is fighting it.
ROARR!!
The bear goes into a mad fury, charging forward—only to be slammed back into the tree we're hiding in.
"What dogshit luck," I sigh.
The entire tree shakes from the impact.
DRIP.
DRIP.
Something drips onto my head.
More follows.
It isn't the same slime the worms left behind.
The liquid runs into the mouth of this body, touching his tongue—and I finally understand what it is.
Blood.
I watch through the crack as the bear stares directly at us.
Its fur faintly glows purple under the strange light. Saliva and blood stream down its fangs. Its eyes are completely locked onto mine—bloodshot.
The algae on the tree begin to glow brighter.
The bear turns.
And finally—
Its opponent becomes visible.