Elliot stared out of the bus window, watching the trees blur past. The morning sun was shining, the road was smooth, and everything was good.
He sighed, resting his chin on his hand. His parents and older brother were off enjoying their fancy vacation in Santorini—Greece—while he was stuck at home. Well, he was the one who refused to go.
One week of listening to his mom gush about "authentic mediterranean flavors" and his dad rant about work? No thanks.
So, what was he doing instead?
Going hiking.
Why?
Because last night, he watched some random video of a guy standing on a mountain, spreading his arms dramatically, saying "Nature heals the soul."
And Elliot, with absolutely nothing better to do, thought, Screwit, let'sgotouchsomegrass.
That's how he ended up here, on this bus, heading towards a hiking trail.
It was supposed to be a chill trip.
But then—
Something felt off.
The bus wasn't slowing down.
At first, no one noticed. The passengers were chatting, scrolling on their phones, or staring out the window like him.
But then the road started curving around the mountain.
And the bus didn't slow down.
Elliot found it strange, he turned to look at the driver and immediately knew something was wrong.
The man's hands were shaking on the wheel. His grip was too tight. His eyes were empty, staring straight ahead, like he wasn't even really seeing the road.
Elliot even heard him muttering to himself.
"It's over… there's nothing left… What's the point anymore…?"
Elliot's breath hitched.
Oh.
Oh, hellno.
The bus swerved too close to the edge, and that's when the panic started.
Passengers started screaming.
"Hey! Slow down!" someone shouted.
"Driver, what are you doing?!"
A woman clutched her child, her face pale. A man near the front tried shaking the driver's shoulder, but the man didn't react.
Elliot's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
This guy, he's trying to kill himself.
And he was taking all of them down with him.
Elliot didn't think. He just moved.
He lunged forward, grabbing the driver's arm.
"HEY! STOP THE DAMN BUS!" he yelled.
The driver flinched but didn't let go of the wheel.
"It's pointless…" he muttered. "Everything's already gone. My wife… my job… my money… What's left?"
Elliot gritted his teeth, ohcomeon!Whydidithavetohappentohim the one day he decided to go hiking??!.
"YOU'RE STILL HERE, YOU IDIOT!" he shouted. "You lost everything? Fine! That sucks! But that doesn't mean you get to take us with you!"
The bus jerked violently, tires screeching as it went dangerously close to the edge.
A few more seconds and they'd be falling.
Elliot grabbed the man's wrist with both hands and pulled as hard as he could.
"DAMN IT, I STILL HAVEN'T READ THE NOVEL I BOUGHT YESTERDAY SO DON'T GIVE UP SO EASILY AND KILL ME WITH YOU!"
The driver's breath hitched. His hands shook violently, but for the first time, his eyes looked… clear.
Like he was waking up from a trance.
The bus was seconds away from tumbling off the cliff.
Then—
The driver gasped.
His foot slammed the brakes.
Tires screeched.
The bus skidded—
And then—
The weight shifted.
The front of the bus was too heavy.
Elliot's eyes widened.
Oh…crap.
The bus tilted forward.
For a single, horrifying second, there was silence.
Then—gravity won.
The bus tilted forward.
The screams of the passengers rang in his ears. The world flipped upside down, his stomach lurched, and the sky blurred past—
Elliot barely had time to think.
Not about his life flashing before his eyes nor about regrets or goodbyes.
Just one last, ridiculous thought:
'Going outside to touch grass is a curse.'
BOOM!!
And everything went dark.
-----
Elliot gasped, his lungs dragging in air like he had just surfaced from the depths of the ocean. His eyes snapped open.
'Whatthe—?'
The ceiling above him stretched high, adorned a chandelier that looked expensive enough to pay off student loans he never had.
He shifted slightly, and oh. This bed. It wasn't just soft; it was a cloud. A luxury-grade, sink-into-it-and-never-leave kind of cloud.
But none of that made sense.
Because last he checked, he was dying.
Actually, scratch that—he died.
Yet, here he was. Awake. Breathing. Very much alive.
Before the full existential crisis could hit, his body moved on autopilot. He got up, feet sinking into a thick carpet, and looked around. His brain was still processing.
A room this fancy? A bed this soft? Where even was he? Because it sure as hell doesn't look like a hospital.
Spotting a door slightly ajar, he made his way over, hoping it led to a bathroom. It did.
And that's when he saw himself.
Or rather, a slightly upgraded version of himself.
His hands gripped the sink as he stared at the mirror. Same dark brown eyes, same face—but smoother skin, healthier complexion, and hair that looked effortlessly styled instead of the usual mess. His jawline was sharper. He looked… older?
'Oookay. Whatthehell?'
Seconds turned into minutes as he processed, staring at his reflection like it held all the answers. Then, something clicked.
The big bed. The unfamiliar place. The slight appearance change.
Oh. Oh.
He knew this setup.
He liked reading stories like this.
This was the classic transmigration scenario, wasn't it?
Dying tragically.
Waking up (sometimes) in a luxurious, unfamiliar place.
A slightly enhanced appearance.
The three golden rules of a transmigration story.
He exhaled, stepping back from the mirror. "Holy shit."
He had transmigrated, for real?
But..
In what kind of story?
It definitely wasn't some medieval one. The luxurious bed, the modern bathroom, and the sleek furniture all screamed present-day wealth. But that didn't narrow things down much.
Which left… what?
Modern fantasy? Possible.
Modern omegaverse? …God, he hoped not.
Modern horror? Actually, shit, he really hoped not.
Elliot rubbed his arms, suddenly feeling a little colder. Yeah, no thanks. He wasn't about to deal with ghosts, monsters, or whatever nightmare fuel might come with that genre.
He still didn't have the original body's memories, which was weird. Usually, transmigrators got an instant download of everything the moment they woke up. But for now, all he had were his own thoughts, which wasn't much help.
Frowning, he lightly tapped his forehead.
And as if the universe had been waiting for that exact motion—
A sudden, overwhelming flood of memories crashed into him.
______
His name was Elliot Lancaster. Again.
He was born and raised in the Lancaster family. An old-money kind of family, wealthy, well-respected. He had an older sister, Isabelle or Izzy, who always liked to tease 'him', even though 'he' never reacted much to it.
Because 'he' was born calm
No, scratch that—'he' was emotionless.
Literally, no emotions.
'He' didn't feel much growing up. When other kids his age threw tantrums over ice cream or cried when they scraped their knees, 'he' simply sat by the bushes, watching insects go by. When children squealed with joy at their birthday presents, 'he' accepted his with the same calm, unbothered face.
Maybe that was why 'he' was never truly close to 'his' family. Or rather, why they were close to 'him' in a one-sided way. 'He' spoke to them normally, respectfully, but there was always a wall—an invisible, impassable wall.
His father, William Lancaster, wasn't particularly bothered. He seemed to think 'Elliot' was simply "born that way". His mother, Catherine, on the other hand, had tried. She had really tried to reach out, to connect. But in the end, after years of no change, she seemed to accept that this was just how 'he' was. And so, she stopped trying.
Not because she hated 'him'. No, his parents loved 'him'. But how do you interact with a child who was practically robot?
His sister, Isabelle, was different. She didn't care if 'he' didn't react. If she hugged 'him' and 'he' didn't hug back? She'd just hug tighter. If she made a dumb joke and 'he' gave no response? She'd laugh twice as hard just to make up for it.
And so, 'he' grew up in a warm family, but without warmth. Surrounded by love, but never feeling it.
'He' didn't hate his life. 'He' didn't love it either. 'He' simply existed.
The only personal decision that 'he' made on his own, without the opinions of others, was choosing his university major.
BusinessandFinance.
It was the first time 'he' had ever asked for something purely out of 'his' own will. And when 'he' did, his family was thrilled. His mother encouraged 'him', his father approved, and his sister? She threw confetti on 'his' face and called 'him' a nerd.
'He' went to university, and 'he' made some friends.
Well, "made" might not be the right word.
It was more like people glued themselves to 'him' and decided they were close.
They talked to 'him', laughed with 'him', and dragged 'him' everywhere.
And 'he' let them.
'He' didn't hate it. 'He' didn't like it either.
'He' simply accepted it and went with the flow of things.
And that was how his life went. Day after day, year after year.
Until his third year at university.
And he took over.
________
"..."
What the actual fuck?
This wasn't a villain. This wasn't a protagonist. This wasn't even a side character.
Since he transmigrated, he figured he'd be a villain—that was the trend these days, right? If not, then at least a protagonist, a side character, or hell, even a random background extra with a tragic backstory.
But no.
The body he took over had the personality of a cold, emotionless CEO from a romance novel, the god-tier genetics of a main character, the absurdly rich background of a big boss mastermind, and the position of a second male lead doomed to suffer.
Be. Fucking. Consistent.
What kind of Frankenstein character build was this!? How was he supposed to know what kind of story he was in when his entire existence was a mix of every possible character type??!
And what was with the "cold and emotionless" setting? Excuse me? Does this guy think he's the male lead of a domineering CEO novel? The type to say things like, 'You'vecaughtmyattention, woman' with a straight face?!
Actually, with his major and family background that seemed like a path he might be heading down to.
Oh god.
Elliot groaned, gripping his hair. "I don't have god-tier acting skills, okay? If I try to act like a cold, distant male lead, I'll just end up cringing myself into an early grave!"
He buried his face in his hands.
"I'm so fucking doomed."