New Life, New Body, Same Old Ayumu.

The dream seemingly lasted forever.

I was trapped in the void of consciousness. That void was completely still and eerily silent—no, instead of just being silent, it was more like sound itself didn't exist within that space. You couldn't tell left from right or up from down. It was confusing and dizzying. The darkness gnawed at me: it felt like the last vestiges of my mind were dissolving into a slush.

Suddenly, sound returned to the void. With it, came a bright light. That light—that stream—was blinding, dazzling, and overwhelming. Rapidly, it was becoming bigger and bigger, as if approaching. And then it clashed into me.

The physical impact I expected never came—instead, it was my mind that experienced it.

What I thought was a stream of light was in fact a barrage of images. Vivid and overwhelming, they clashed into me one after another, not stopping for a single breath. Each impact carried more than just the image. It carried memories and emotions: successes and failures; hope and despair; joy and sorrow. 

Every individual image would only flash for a moment before disappearing. Trying to remember any of them felt like grasping fine sand: the moment I caught hold of one, it would slip through my fingers and dissipate into nothingness. And yet, without even knowing why, I clung to them desperately.

From time to time, the stream lessened its intensity by just a bit—only to come back with even more fervor. It was agonizing. My mind was exhausted by the never-ending barrage, and I begged for it to stop—but it never did.

Eventually, I stopped hoping for it to end and resigned myself to my fate. And yet, even when my will gave out, I never stopped grasping at the elusive images.

And so it continued. 

On and on...

...

Finally, everything came to an end.

In place of the vivid images came complete darkness, and with that darkness came stillness. Once again, sound disappeared, and void reigned in the space.

At first, the darkness was peaceful. It was a welcome change from the intensity of the light. As it persisted, however, I realized that it was much more terrifying than I expected. It felt desolate and empty. And that nothingness—that lack of something precious to me—made me feel anxious and lonely.

Within that darkness, I waited. Eventually, even fear and anxiety faded, like they were never there to begin with. 

Finally, after what felt like eternity, I opened my eyes.

***

"Aaaghh!"

I screamed as I woke up, and my upper body sprang up from the bed.

What the hell was that? There were... images and...

As my mind tried to recall the dream, I immediately realized I couldn't remember anything I saw in there. In fact, I couldn't remember anything at all. Not even my own name.

My mind was a disorderly mess. I tried to remember what happened right before I went to sleep, but my consciousness refused to conjure up a single memory. I kept struggling, desperately trying to recall something. Anything.

A-Ayumu... Ayumu Shinohara. That was my name, I think... It is... right?

Eventually, I managed to grasp my identity. From there all my memories started coming back. My family, my friends, school, my attempts at trying out different things, the band, and finally—

"—That's right! I got hit by a truck!"

My last memories were that of an unavoidable death rushing at me at full speed. How could I even forget that? On a second thought, I forgot even my own name so it  wasn't that surprising. Frankly, the shakiness of my mind could just be a consequence of getting hit.

"Hold on. If I'm still alive, does it mean I survived?"

As the fact belatedly registered in my head, I finally took a look at my surroundings. My mind was so preoccupied, I didn't even notice the environment around me—a place particularly unusual.

I was in a room with a strange, vintage feel. It had walls covered by this weird wallpaper, which was drastically different from anything I'd seen before, and the furniture was mainly made of wood. There wasn't anything plastic around me, and even metal stuff was rare. Everything in the room had a sort of old feel to it that brought to mind older European manors—everything from the pattern on the walls to the make of the wooden furniture.

The fancy patterns seemed to spark some recognition in my mind, but it didn't quite click. There was also a lantern on the wall which probably served as the source of light during night. Right now though, the room was illuminated by the daylight, coming from the big window on the wall. Furniture-wise it had a bed, a desk, which sat right under the window, a wooden wardrobe, as well as a full-sized mirror. 

As I caught sight of the mirror, my gaze stopped. For a good few seconds, I stared at the reflection in shock.

"What?!" I exclaimed and stood up in panic. I went up to the mirror as I grasped my face.

"No way... What the hell is this...?" I muttered in disbelief.

There, in the mirror, I saw a handsome white-haired youth staring back at me and clutching his face in panic. It would be a pretty funny sight if his actions weren't a complete replica of my own. Whenever I shrunk, he would too; and whenever my face twisted, his expression would change as well. In other words—that reflection was none other than my own. That is, despite the fact I had no recognition of this face whatsoever. I certainly didn't remember myself being this handsome...

As I stared at the mirror—still panicking and trying to make sense of the situation—my mind raced. After some thinking, I was able to come up with a few theories on the spot.

Let's start with the first one:

1) My brain was hit so hard that I'm seeing things. That likely includes the reflection in the mirror and this room to boot.

It would be natural to assume that there were some consequences to the crash. My body seemed fine, but the same didn't necessarily apply to my brain. 

Although, now that I thought about it, my body could be in a pretty bad state as well. Heck, it could be a complete wreck right now, but my brain was so far gone that I wouldn't even realize that. Was I even awake at all? In fact, everything I was seeing right now could just be a part of the dream.

I could be lying in a hospital bed in coma, seeing visions and deluding myself; or maybe I was sprawled on the road after the accident, imagining all of this; or perhaps—

—Yeah, we weren't going anywhere productive with this train of thought.

Even if it was all in my imagination, it wasn't like I could prove it. What was I even supposed to do if it was made up? I couldn't imagine thinking about this any further would prove useful so I decided to shrug it off.

Besides, was I really that desperate? Desperate enough to imagine myself as some pretty boy? For my sanity's sake this theory had to be a dud.

Okay, moving on to the next one.

2) The truck contained God's blessing and unleashed my hidden potential—all of my handsomeness, talent (hopefully), and skill!

Wow. Yeah, that seemed reasonable. Finally, something I could get behind. I always knew God forgot to treat me fairly at birth. You know: got the starting loadout wrong, confused some stats here and there... stuff like that. If you ask me, that's some long-awaited justice.

I would prefer a different way to get it—something that didn't involve being hit by a truck—but beggars can't be choosers, right?

Sheesh, I was so handsome that I even got kidnapped and put in this vintage room—all part of some twisted person's fetishes...

Okay, this theory made complete and perfect sense. The more I thought about it, the more sensible it seemed, don't you agree?

What? I'm being delusional? Geez, harsh as always, aren't you?

...Yeah, I know. Getting back to reality soon. 

But damn, you are mean. Is a guy not even allowed to dream? 

What was that? I already do that way too much? Yeah, fair point. Let's move on.

3) I got reincarnated.

Yep, simple and straightforward. Just like in those web novels I liked to read. No wonder they say: Be careful what you wish for. I didn't wish for a truck though...

This theory checked all the boxes: made logical sense; explained my new face and the room; and, most importantly, explained why I was unharmed after getting hit by a truck. It's not that I was necessarily unhurt—in fact, it was quite the opposite...

But why did I not remember anything prior to now? I didn't mean my previous life but rather this one. Was it one of those reincarnations where I wasn't conscious about my previous life from birth? Usually in those, once the protagonist reached a certain age, they suddenly remembered their previous lives. But even in such cases, the moment they 'awakened', they would usually remember their second lives fully, or at least partially. 

Hmmm... Maybe it was more accurate to say that, instead of fully reincarnating, it was only my consciousness and soul that was transported into this body. Some parts about that theory did make me pretty uncomfortable though...

"Well, whatever... Assuming that's true, for the time being, I should probably go out of this room and start figuring things out..."

There were a lot of things I didn't know. First of all, if it really was reincarnation, did I get transported to another world? Or was it the same as my previous one? I hope didn't just end up in the past. I would miss modern conveniences and would have to live somewhere just as boring as my previous world to boot: no magic, no special powers—nothing. Most importantly, I probably wouldn't be able to survive the past. Using the fact I came from the future as a knowledge cheat, was only possible if there was knowledge in the first place. And frankly, I didn't know history all that well.

As I mumbled, my gaze came back to the mirror. I studied (presumably) my new facial features. Once again, I was pleasantly surprised by how handsome I was. The face in the mirror could be simply described as a 'pretty boy'. Personally, I would prefer a macho aesthetic, but this wasn't too bad either.

I shot the reflection a pleasant smile. Confusingly, the reflection returned an unpleasant smirk instead. 

Huh, how puzzling...?

"Well, if nothing else, then at least I'm hot in this life. But I swear my smile shouldn't be that creepy...?"

I kept making various faces while watching the mirror. Slight smile; handsome, charismatic smirk; wide beam... I was trying to see if I could make a charming expression, but all of them came out as... not so pleasant, let's say.

"Maybe too wide... Damn, I wouldn't want to meet this dude in a dark alley—that's for sure. ...Why the hell is this so hard?" I complained out loud for no reason in particular.

Calm detached look, sharp dangerous gaze, thoughtful visage...

"Why does it feel like the more I try to make a good expression the uglier this mug becomes? I swear I'm supposed to be hot now...," I kept mumbling in confusion, "maybe I was wrong and I'm just as mediocre as I used to be—"

"—No, I believe you're sufficiently handsome, Young Master."

"Agh!?"

Right in the middle of my (hopefully) badass new expression, a voice suddenly interrupted me, and I jumped up in surprise.

When I turned around, I saw a silver-haired girl in a maid outfit, watching me with a completely blank expression.

Just how long has she stood there for!?

And that's how my first encounter with a resident of this world began.