“Beep… beep.”
“Beep… beep.”
I opened my eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above me.
It had been three days since I arrived here — in another world, inside someone else’s body.
Three days.
Most protagonists discover their cheat ability within the first three minutes.
I, on the other hand, discovered geography.
This world is divided into five major countries: Steamhex, Gearsong, Umbravale, Haloport… and the one where I currently reside — Eldertide.
Eldertide itself is further divided into seven continents.
And I live in Helix, home to the most prestigious hero institution in existence: Echelon Academy.
If survival ever depends on map trivia, I am exceptionally well prepared.
As for how I got here…
I have no idea.
I went to sleep in my world and woke up in this one.
No truck collision.
No summoning ritual.
No radiant goddess offering cryptic guidance or emotional reassurance.
Just sleep.
I also don’t know what kind of world this is.
A novel?
A game?
A webtoon?
Or simply another reality with extremely poor onboarding procedures?
If this is a story, knowing the genre would help.
Survival horror and academy drama require very different kinds of preparation.
When I first woke up, I checked for a system.
Nothing.
No status window.
No cheat ability.
No friendly AI welcoming me as a “player.”
Next, I tried accessing this body’s memories.
Again, nothing.
So I am both underpowered and uninformed.
An excellent combination for long-term survival.
After exhausting the obvious options, I searched the mobile phone.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Apparently this body has a sister.
She hasn’t contacted me for three days.
Judging by the message history, we weren’t particularly close to begin with.
That simplifies things.
Emotional attachments tend to complicate mortality.
In my previous world, I didn’t have much family either.
Just an uncle who eventually decided my presence was no longer economically viable.
He removed me from his home when I was sixteen.
After that, I supported myself.
Part-time jobs.
School.
College.
Civil service exams.
I secured a stable government position at twenty-two.
Stable. Predictable. Respectable.
One month later, I wake up in a mana-infested alternate reality.
Life has a peculiar sense of humor.
Whether I’m there or here no longer matters.
What matters is this:
This world isn’t normal.
Mana exists.
Which implies enhanced humans.
Enhanced humans imply monsters.
Monsters imply danger.
And danger means survival is no longer optional.
If I don’t acquire something resembling a system or ability soon, my life expectancy will be measured in extremely unfavorable statistics.
I pushed myself upright and glanced around the apartment again.
Everything looked… lived in.
Books stacked neatly.
Clothes folded.
Personal items arranged with quiet order.
Nothing about the place suggested abandonment.
Which meant one thing.
Someone was supposed to be living here.
Someone whose life I was currently occupying.
I looked down at my hands.
Not mine.
Longer fingers.
Different skin tone.
A faint scar near the knuckle I don’t remember earning.
So what happened to him?
Did he die?
Disappear?
Was he replaced… or moved somewhere else?
None of the possibilities were comforting.
If he’s still out there, then I’m technically trespassing inside his existence.
If he isn’t…
Then I inherited a corpse with paperwork.
I walked to the mirror and studied the reflection staring back.
The face was unfamiliar.
But not unpleasant.
Late teens.
Calm features.
Eyes that looked slightly too observant for someone who supposedly lived an ordinary life.
“Korin Kai,” I said quietly.
The name still felt like borrowed clothing.
“Sorry about this,” I added after a moment.
Apologizing to a mirror serves no practical purpose.
But it felt necessary.
I exhaled slowly.
If the original owner is gone, then I owe him one thing:
Not wasting whatever life he left behind.
Preferably not getting it killed within the first week.
“Ding-dong.”
The doorbell interrupted my thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Sir, parcel for Korin Kai.”
Right.
That’s the name of this body.
Korin Kai.
I’m still adjusting to responding to it.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Please sign here, sir.”
“Okay.”
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
The parcel was from Echelon Academy.
Of course it was.
And just like that, the situation I had been quietly hoping to avoid arrived at my doorstep with professional efficiency.
I opened the envelope.
“Korin Kai, congratulations on being admitted to the world’s number one academy of heroes.”
Wonderful.
Transported to another world and immediately enrolled in the most dangerous educational institution available.
No warm-up.
No tutorial.
Straight to what appears to be endgame difficulty.
Students from all five nations compete there to graduate as heroes.
Compete.
A word that implies winners…
…and a significant number of losers.
According to the letter, I am expected to report in four days.
Four days is not enough time to prepare for an unknown life-threatening environment.
It is also not enough time to flee to a safe location.
Assuming such a place even exists.
Besides, I don’t know this world’s geography well enough to escape effectively.
I’m not even confident I understand the public transportation system.
A slow, suffocating weight settled in my chest.
Not panic.
Something quieter.
A kind of despair that doesn’t bother raising its voice.
Then my phone vibrated.
A single notification.
No sound.
No flash.
No dramatic holographic display.
Just a black screen with white text.
[Act I — The Academy]
That was all.
No explanation.
No interface.
No levels.
No skills.
Just a title.
So apparently I am part of a narrative structure now.
The screen flickered briefly, almost as if something were checking whether I had noticed.
When it went dark, my reflection stared back at me from the glass.
Unfamiliar face.
Unfamiliar life.
Unfamiliar future.
“…So this is my system?”
No response.
Naturally.
Nothing in my life has ever favored direct communication.
Still…
It felt as though something had already begun.
