George felt as if he had been asleep for an eternity.
When his eyes finally fluttered open, the weightless sensation that had cradled him moments earlier vanished—replaced by a dull, throbbing pain behind his eyes. The ache pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, grounding him in this new reality.
He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Everything was... wrong.
The world around him was stripped of color—monochrome, drained, unreal. Shades of black, white, and gray painted the tall arches of the mansion, the quiet walls, the polished floors. Not a single hue broke the silence.
And yet, the silence itself was familiar. Too familiar.
He sat up slowly, the dizziness in his skull echoing the strange truth he could no longer deny.
What happened yesterday wasn't a dream.
George had once been an ordinary man. An office worker in a mid-tier firm. A steady paycheck. A small apartment filled with second-hand furniture and half-finished books. A family that cared, but stayed just enough out of his way.
Life wasn't extraordinary, but it was his. Predictable. Safe.
Until one night—when drifting toward sleep—pain bloomed suddenly in his chest, sharp and blinding.
Then… nothing.
Now, he was here.
In a foreign body.
In a silent, grayscale world.
A mansion that didn't belong to him
A face that wasn't his
A life he hadn't lived.
From the fragments of memory that surfaced like scattered puzzle pieces, he knew only this: he now inhabited the body of someone named George Helel—a psychologist with a private office somewhere in the capital city known as Nivalis.
The memories were faint, fractured, and strangely sterile. No real emotion. Just scenes. Motions. Snapshots of another man's life.
But even that wasn't what disturbed him the most.
What haunted him—what clawed at the back of his mind—was the image he couldn't forget:
His parents.
Finding his body.
And him no longer being there to explain.
George clenched his fists and shook his head, trying to silence the helpless loop.
He couldn't go back.
This wasn't his world.
He stood slowly, his breath shallow. As he moved, the world remained stubbornly colorless. Monotone. Lifeless.
"Did I lose the ability to see color when I transmigrated?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. It sounded strange to his ears. Unfamiliar.
Then, suddenly—like a spark in the dark—a soft flicker of blue illuminated the air before him.
A glowing screen materialized, hovering midair with an ethereal hum.
[INITIALIZING RECORDS...]
[UNLOCKING FUNCTIONS...]
The vibrant blue shimmered against the bleak backdrop, its color so vivid it was almost painful to look at. George stared in disbelief, awe spreading across his face.
"A system...?" he whispered.
The interface shifted as if responding to his thoughts.
[HOST PROFILE]
[SYSTEM FUNCTION]
With tentative curiosity, he reached out and tapped [HOST PROFILE]. The screen changed immediately.
[HOST PROFILE]
NAME: George Helel
AGE: 29
PROFESSION: Psychologist
SKILL: [Serene Beat]
BLOODLINE: None
ORGANIZATION: None
---
George scanned the text. A psychologist... just like the fragments had said.
And the skill—Serene Beat—he recognized that too. Though fuzzy, he remembered using it once, to calm a panicked patient in a collapsing mindspace. A gentle pulse of mental equilibrium. Like soft waves washing over chaotic thoughts.
It had felt... natural.
He closed the tab and selected the next option: [SYSTEM FUNCTION]
[SYSTEM FUNCTION]
• [RECORD]
• [MANIFEST]
• [MERGE]
---
The moment his finger brushed the text, knowledge surged into his mind like a flood. He staggered, gasping. In an instant, he understood:
[RECORD] – Catalog anything he touched.
[MANIFEST] – Recreate recorded things within his perception.
[MERGE] – Combine two or more records into a new phenomenon.
Before he could process the implications, something outside caught his eye.
A flower, dancing gently on a windowsill breeze.
He stepped toward it—compelled.
Its petals, curled and pale, were as grayscale as the rest of the world.
But when his fingers touched its stem and he whispered, "Manifest," something miraculous happened.
A drop of red bloomed in the heart of the flower, spreading outward like blood in water.
He inhaled sharply. The scent followed—sweet, light, familiar. It filled his lungs with warmth.
The system chimed silently within him.
[FRAGRANCE RECORDED]
And he understood: he could now apply that sensation—this flower's essence—onto anything. Even himself.
Color ,Scent ,Feeling.
He had touched reality, and bent it.
And for the first time since waking in this alien world, George didn't feel helpless.
He felt… powerful.