"Ugh..."
In the dim room, a faint groan broke the silence. A moment later, a thin shadow sat up in bed, moving sluggishly as he pushed himself up with some effort. Still unsteady, he staggered to the door, opened it, and stepped out. After a few turns, he found himself on the balcony. Frowning, he pulled out a cigarette he had absentmindedly grabbed earlier, lit it with practiced ease, and stood there in a daze, lost in thought.
No one knew how much time passed, but suddenly, the figure shivered and cursed aloud.
"Damn it! I actually transmigrated?!"
Under the flickering glow of the cigarette and the soft moonlight outside the window, a young man with a sharp short haircut stood on the balcony, completely naked. His face was full of conflict as he stared out at the street — unfamiliar, yet eerily familiar deep down.
"Shit!"
He cursed again, tossing the nearly burned-out cigarette away. Turning back inside, he walked to the living room, guided by memory. He turned on the light, poured himself a glass of water, and sat at the dining table, beginning to sort through the memories in this new body.
Name: Itou Makoto.
Age: 17.
Height: 178 cm — tall by Japanese standards.
Residence: Suburbs of Tokyo.
Father: A Chinese immigrant who came to Japan during the reform era, now deceased.
Mother: Itou Eriko, a shrine maiden helping her father manage the family's ancestral shrine.
Siblings: Two older sisters.
— Itou Rin, 24, college graduate, now a team lead at some company.
— Itou Reina, 18, a senior in a private high school, excellent in both academics and behavior.
As for this body, it belonged to a second-year student at the same school. After losing his father early, he hit a rebellious phase and became a full-blown delinquent — leading a gang of troublemakers, getting into fights, and extorting protection money around the school.
"What the hell is this? A sick joke?" muttered Itou Makoto, his face twisted in confusion and frustration as he sifted through these memories.
Annoyed, he lit another cigarette. His face flickered in and out of view through the smoke. His left hand tapped the table unconsciously as he continued to process the scattered memories. The fusion had only just begun — full assimilation would take time. Triggering memories through daily life would help speed things up.
After roughly three cigarettes' time, he had the basics down, though many details remained. The piercing headache hadn't stopped. He grabbed the water cup again, drained it, and forced himself back to the bedroom, locking the door behind him. He sat cross-legged on the bed, straightening his back. Minutes passed. If not for the occasional furrowed brow and the steady sweat pouring down his face, he would've looked like he was asleep.
---
By morning, the noise outside the room grew louder. Itou Makoto's fingers twitched slightly, then his eyes slowly opened. Gone was the conflicted look from last night — in its place, calm.
Indeed, the night of sitting — or rather, meditating — had helped. The fusion of memories had accelerated greatly. At the very least, he could now adapt to the daily life of this identity. While some details still needed triggering, they wouldn't hinder his ability to live as Itou Makoto.
He stood up and stretched his slightly stiff body. After a moment, he sat back on the bed, staring at his right hand raised to chest level. In the blink of an eye, a cube appeared in his palm — a perfectly shaped 12x12x12 grid, resembling a magical Rubik's Cube.
As he stared at the strange cube, which rotated on its own with intertwining movements, he thought quietly, "So you're the reason I transmigrated? The thing that followed me into this world... what kind of power do you hold?"
No sooner had the thought formed than the cube suddenly glowed with a blinding silver light, illuminating the entire room in pure silver. In an instant, the light contracted into a small dot, like a grain of rice, and shot straight into his forehead — disappearing in a flash.
Before the shock faded from his eyes, a flood of information surged into his mind. Having just endured the pain of memory fusion, Itou Makoto now suffered another wave of inhuman agony.
"Ugh—mmgh..." a low, muffled groan escaped his lips.
Thankfully, this time the fusion was swift. In just a few minutes, the pain receded like a tidal wave, replaced by a cool, refreshing sensation that flowed through his mind like spring water.
Eyes closed, he silently sorted through the new information. Several minutes passed before he let out a long breath.
"So that's how it is... Looks like my life's about to become a lot more exciting. But..."
He stood up, yanked open the curtains, and let the morning sun flood in. Stretching out his arms, he smiled silently toward the light.
"But... I like it."
He turned and walked out into the hallway.
---
In the living room, an 18-year-old girl about 156 cm tall was helping a graceful woman — likely in her thirties — place dishes on the table. The woman wore an apron and had a composed, dignified air. Though mature, her figure was stunning, and her brows carried a hint of fierceness. Hearing the door open, she looked up at Itou Makoto descending the stairs, frowned slightly, then turned back to place a large ceramic bowl on the table, saying nothing.
"Makoto, go wash your hands. Breakfast is ready," she said casually after a glance.
"Got it," Itou Makoto responded in the tone recalled from his inherited memories. He looked at the silent girl — his second sister, Itou Reina — and walked toward the bathroom.
Not long after, another sound came from the stairs. A beautiful woman descended — she wore a grey blazer over a white blouse trimmed with lace, a grey pencil skirt, and black stockings. Her legs, straight and long by Japanese standards, moved with grace. With a pair of rimmed glasses and a height of just over 160 cm, she radiated a mix of charm and professionalism.
"Morning, Mother. Reina," she greeted with a smile.
"Good morning, Rin."
"Morning, Sis."
Both responded with a smile and a nod.