Opening my eyes turned out to be surprisingly easy, despite the overall feeling of being completely worn out. And what I saw gave me a hint as to why I felt so awful. The thing was, I was lying in a hospital room—one of those rooms that look exactly like the ones shown in American movies.
"Well, at least now something can be said with a bit more certainty," I muttered, glancing around and trying to take in as many details as possible.
On a chair to the left sat a woman. Young, a little over thirty, a slim brunette with an impressive bust—at least a size four.
"Oh? And who is this? Wife, girlfriend, relative?"
A wife or girlfriend would be nice. She looked very good.
However, a glance at my own scrawny body dismissed those assumptions.
More likely a mother or an aunt. What a pity...
Alright, that question could wait. First I needed to deal with the most important consequences of the agreement. The ones that came right after the clause: "I'm alive and inside a human body."
"So, what should I call you? System," I called out, but nothing happened.
"Status."
The second attempt worked. A translucent screen formed before my eyes.
Maxwell Dillon
Level — 1
Psychological and emotional stabilization — temporary enhancement
Development Points (experience equivalent): 100/1000
Available: 3 attribute points and 1 talent point
Strength: 4
Speed: 3
Endurance: 3
Intelligence: 15 (5+10)
Wisdom: 10 (1+9)
Charisma: 3
Innate Talents:
Lightning icon. Meaning unclear, currently greyed out.
Acquired Talents:
Abilities obtained by various means.
There is a 5% chance to copy an ability into the list of available acquisitions.
Some abilities may conflict.
Magic
—
"What a name..." I sighed, examining the system window more closely.
The system worked. How well and how correctly—unclear for now. But I doubt An-Danadan would have a reason—
A chill of danger suddenly ran across my skin. My hair stood on end.
Alright, message received. Apparently I shouldn't even think his name. Seems like someone might be interested.
I realized I had stopped breathing as I listened carefully to my surroundings, expecting anything—even an invasion of alien ducks.
But no. The universe did not collapse onto my head.
I slowly exhaled and mentally smacked myself.
Then I returned to the system, distracting myself from the unpleasant feeling.
So. Stabilization—what's that?
A tooltip explained that to prevent my mind from breaking under the flood of events, I had been given this "buff." It stabilized my psyche and cut off most extreme negative emotional spikes.
Attribute points were straightforward. Put them somewhere and get stronger.
Talent points—the same thing.
Development points, however, caught my attention.
Development Points — by defeating an opponent, you receive development energy.
Damn. What exactly counts as defeating? Is victory enough, or do I need to send them to the afterlife?
On the other hand, the wording "opponent" at least suggests it's not necessarily limited to humans.
Alright. Attributes.
Strength — 4.
Is that a lot?
I tried to recall the guy's age—sixteen. That made me doubt it was a large number.
So I stared at the line and tried a few commands.
"Help."
Nothing.
"Explanation."
Still nothing.
But something unexpected happened. Simply focusing on the line caused it to highlight, after which a small explanation window appeared.
Strength — indicates the physical strength of a person.
Not exactly informative.
Endurance.
Endurance — indicates the endurance of a person.
Clear as mud.
No real explanations, and even more questions appeared. The most basic one—what is the baseline? What does a value of one actually represent?
Then I looked at the highest attribute of this new body.
Intelligence — 15.
The guy was clearly a brain. Or even a BRAIN.
Now if only I understood what the numbers meant—and the parentheses.
Strangely enough, after a short delay the system produced an additional explanation.
Values in parentheses indicate soul attributes. By default, the highest parameter is used. Full activation and synergy with the body's attributes requires 500 development points. Insufficient development points for activation.
I glanced at the development points again.
I had 100.
Required: 500.
Damn.
Innate talents.
Lightning icon — unclear meaning, greyed out.
The system only gave one explanation.
Requires activation trigger.
Acquired talents.
Abilities obtained by various means.
There is a 5% chance to copy an ability into the list of available acquisitions from a destroyed opponent.
Destroyed… meaning killed?
Yeah...
The final tab.
Magic — contained no values.
Well. There were still many questions, but now I could move to the next one.
Where exactly had I ended up?
I clearly remembered that the world was supposed to be unusual according to the agreement. But I would like something a little more specific.
I pushed myself up into a sitting position to get a better look.
"Ma'am?"
The word slipped out as I addressed the woman sitting on the chair. I realized with surprise that the body had certain conversational reflexes.
The woman, who had been motionless until now, sleepily opened her eyes.
When she focused on me, she froze for a moment, then rushed over with an expression I couldn't quite read in the dim light.
Before I could panic, she hugged me with incredible tenderness and, bursting into tears, pressed me to her chest.
Her large, soft breasts were noticeable even through her clothes. Once again I regretted that she was almost certainly a relative of this body.
"Ma'am?" I said after waiting a little.
"What is it, Max?" she asked, pulling her face away from me.
It might be a cliché, but after thinking about it carefully, memory loss was really my only option.
Technically it wasn't even deception. Not knowing and forgetting were basically the same in my situation.
"Ma'am… do we know each other?"
Shock and disbelief appeared on the woman's face. It seemed she was about to cry again.
But she wiped away a tear and forced a tired smile.
"I'll call the doctor!"
Carefully releasing me from her embrace, she went to look for the doctor.
Damn. It's actually harder than it seems—to tell someone clearly close to you that you don't remember them.
I hadn't even done anything, yet I felt exhausted. I leaned back on the bed.
Then I analyzed the conversation. Well, "analyzed" was a strong word. I had never been the type of person who plans everything ahead. Too much in life depends on chance.
Two or three minutes later the woman returned with a doctor.
Doctor… or doctress? What's the correct word?
She was slim, fit, with a sharp gaze and a good figure. Not entirely my type, but definitely attractive.
She examined me and conducted a short interview about what I remembered.
Satisfied with the answers, she nodded to the woman toward the door.
Neither of them had introduced themselves.
They stepped outside and stopped near the door. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could easily imagine it.
Anita stepped out after Doctor Strange and closed the door to the ward.
They stopped a little to the side.
Exhausted from the past few days of waiting, Anita looked at Strange with hope.
The doctor tactfully gave her time to speak first, though it was clear she was not particularly emotional about what had happened. After all, dozens of such patients had passed through the hands of this rising star of neurosurgery.
Still, that near-demonstrative indifference stung Anita.
At the same time, it helped her compose herself and stop falling apart.
She raised a firm gaze toward Doctor Strange, in which little weakness remained.
The doctor nodded approvingly and began to speak.
"To be honest, I'm surprised he regained consciousness so quickly. It seems we seriously underestimated the resilience of a young body. However, you understand that severe head injuries never pass without consequences."
Strange signed the patient round journal and returned it to its place near the door.
Anita nodded silently, though her gaze grew harsher, which the doctor considered not the best sign for her own well-being.
"With an injury like that, he had every chance of becoming disabled—or even a vegetable for the rest of his life. Compared to that, memory loss is a small price. The fact that he woke up at all is already fortunate. And according to the examination, he's generally fine. Of course, we'll need to run a few more tests, but in my experience he's practically healthy."
"And his memory?" Anita asked dryly.
"It may return, or it may not. The human brain is still poorly understood despite all scientific progress. But again, the chances are there. For now, you should rest and gather your strength—so you don't scare the patients looking like an exhausted zombie."
Strange added a light joke, hoping to ease the tension.
Anita looked at her skeptically.
Strange decided it was best to wrap things up. Better to talk to the husband later. A handsome man...
Anita returned to the ward and saw her son sleeping.
For a moment she feared he had fallen back into a coma, but she immediately pushed the thought away.
She took her usual seat and pulled out her phone.
After typing a message, she sent it to the entire family.
Moments later the phone vibrated with incoming replies that seemed terribly loud in the silent ward.
Anita hurriedly muted the notifications and read the joyful texts.
Smiley faces—clearly from the daughters.
And this one had to be from Nathan. Only he sent hearts like that.
Warmth filled Anita's heart.
She kept watching her sleeping son until sleep finally claimed her as well.
Morning began for me with an unpleasant procedure—tests.
Well, "morning." I woke up around ten, feeling refreshed.
The woman wasn't anywhere nearby. I hoped they had sent her to rest; she looked extremely tired.
As soon as I finished my morning routine and started thinking about exploring the surrounding world, the doctor arrived.
Instead of exploration, I was sent off to give countless samples and undergo examinations.
A thin woman around fifty-five rolled a wheelchair to my bed and told me to sit.
God, I felt so ashamed.
A young guy—even if a scrawny one—being pushed around the hospital by a grandma who looked like a harmless dandelion.
I blushed under the looks of medical staff and patients, trying to appear indifferent.
Once I even winked at a pretty nurse with a fit, athletic figure.
Her colleagues burst into giggles and started teasing her.
By the way, there were surprisingly few men around. Could it be that in this world guys had finally grown brains and now got into trouble less often?
Well, let's not jump to conclusions. This world couldn't be that fantastical.
A guy is a guy in any world—a creature capable of finding adventure out of nowhere, with equal chances of dying in the process or gaining something extraordinary.
They wheeled me across the entire hospital. It seemed like every laboratory made me undergo some sort of test.
Fortunately, Madam Burke—despite her harmless appearance—had character.
Seriously. With just a few words she shut down a girl who was harassing a young nurse.
My suffering seemed endless. My arms looked like those of a drug addict from all the needles, and I felt completely drained.
The only ray of happiness was lunch.
The kitchen matrons looked at my skinny frame and piled a mountain of mashed potatoes on my plate, plus a double portion of cutlets—with Madam Burke's silent approval.
Clearly she held authority here. But the kind earned through long work, not fear.
I looked at her with new respect and stopped acting like a dying vegetable. Now I was just a vegetable.
I was exhausted.
At the very end, when they were bringing me back, I noticed a small crowd in the corridor—mostly women and girls.
I recognized the woman from before. After resting she looked much better.
The other girls were no less impressive—great figures, curves in all the right places.
The twins especially caught my attention. Two identical blondes with dyed hair tips—each a different color—and biker-style clothes.
Standing side by side, they looked stunning.
The only man among this flower garden was reasonably fit, though not athletic.
When they noticed me, the younger girls squealed and rushed toward me under the approving smiles of the older generation.
But one stern glance from the "harmless dandelion" made them slow from a run to a walk.
"Mac, it's so good you woke up! We were so worried! Does anything hurt? What do the doctors say?" the oldest girl—around twenty—bombarded me with questions.
I smiled awkwardly, not knowing how to behave.
Who the hell are all these people?
"Alright, you little pests!" Madam Burke raised her voice. "Don't disturb him! The young man needs rest and strength!"
"Hey, Doctor Strange allowed it!" one of the twins protested.
But Madam Burke ignored them and calmly wheeled me to the ward.
"Ma'am," I quietly called when she rolled me inside before the whole crowd followed.
I waited until she looked at me.
"Sorry… who are all those people?"
"Oh, boy…" Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked up to hide them.
"They'll tell you everything themselves. Don't worry. They only wish you well."
I nodded and climbed from the wheelchair back onto the bed.
"Thank you, Madam Burke," I said with a smile.
It cost me nothing, but it made people happy.
The crowd entered as soon as she left.
Silence filled the room.
Everyone was worried, but no one knew how to start the conversation.
Several painful seconds passed.
Looking at them closely, I noticed similarities in their features. The older generation clearly weren't blood relatives, but the younger girls looked subtly alike.
I decided to clarify my situation.
"Good afternoon. I understand that you are my close ones, but I don't remember you. I don't remember myself. I remember nothing. I'm sorry."
I smiled gently at them.
"Oh my God, Mac!"
Someone sobbed first, and a second later I was surrounded by hugging family members.
My heart tightened.
A lump formed in my throat.
I felt sorry for the guy who had lost all of this.
For several minutes they simply hugged me, giving the kind of support only family can give.
"Kid, I promise I'll take care of them. You can rest easy," I said silently to the one who had already crossed beyond.