—Two moons... I'm sure there was only one just minutes ago...
A fetid odor, carried by the icy night wind, seeped into his nostrils. It made Shade jolt upright—or at least, he tried to.
The moment his hand pressed against an oddly soft surface, it sank inside, accompanied by a crunch.
His eyes flew open in horror as his heart began racing uncontrollably.
—What?!
His hand was buried deep in the chest of a body—more specifically, a corpse already decomposing.
Shade yanked his hand back immediately and scrambled to his feet, trying to get as far away as possible. But his foot caught between the ribs of another corpse, sending him crashing onto his back in the dry grass of this strange place.
Instinctively, his hand flew to his chest, feeling every beat of his heart and recalling a sensation he had forgotten years ago.
Fear.
He was lying on a pile of corpses and bones, some more dismembered than others. But they all shared one thing in common—they didn't seem to have been here long.
—A graveyard of bodies...
His attention was diverted in seconds by the sound of waves crashing against some surface.
He tried to wipe the viscous liquid off his hand onto the grass, a clear look of disgust on his face. How revolting... he thought.
Finally, he stood up and followed the violent sound of the surf.
When he reached it, the arid land he had been standing on disappeared before him, replaced only by a deadly drop and a black sea stretching as far as his eyes could see.
Standing on the cliff, his gaze fixed on the horizon—more lost than ever—he decided to do what he did best. Analyze the situation.
Again, he brought his hand to his chest, steadied his breathing, and closed his eyes.
—Calm down. It's not like you haven't seen this before. You saw thousands of these as a kid—now's not the time to panic.
His heart slowed, and his mind began to clear.
First, he noticed something—he wasn't wearing any clothes. His hand was resting on his bare chest, just like the rest of his body. Only tattered rags tied around his waist covered anything below.
—I... I had clothes. I was wearing a suit. Where are my clothes?
A freezing gust hit him hard. His skin prickled instantly as his teeth chattered like castanets.
He hugged himself, trying to warm his naked skin.
—It's t-too c-cold! —he stammered.
When he had first seen the corpses, the cold was already there, but it hadn't been this biting—or at least, Shade hadn't felt it that way. He'd assumed the sensation was just the adrenaline of the moment.
He began looking around frantically for something to warm himself, or at least cover up a little.
One corpse among the many beside him caught his attention—it was covered in what looked like the pelt of some shaggy animal.
—That'll work.
With slow steps, he approached, moving the corpses on top of it aside to pull out the piece of fur.
—Ugh, it reeks. But at least it'll keep me from dying of hypothermia.
He draped it over himself, and within seconds, his body regained some warmth—though it was still too soon to relax. He still had to figure out where he was, what had happened to his belongings, and what that creature he'd seen earlier was.
—Alright, now then. Lots of questions, very few answers. I need to make sense of all this.
Leaning against the trunk of an old tree and shielded from the cold, he focused on clearing his mind.
—I need to go over everything that's happened. It's too much to process in such a short time.
His first thought was about how—and what—this place was. He couldn't come up with a clear answer, no matter how hard he tried.
If you jump off a building with no protection, the last thing you'd expect is to still be alive.
—I can somehow say for sure that I hit the ground—though there was no pain. The weirdest part was feeling like I was still falling.
It made no sense. No textbook or scientific research could describe something like this—at least, nothing "scientific."
Transmigration.
That's what he thought. Everything around him screamed it—it was far too primitive for his time.
He used to read web novels in what little free time he had, so he was very familiar with the term. And while he'd dreamed about experiencing it as a kid, he never expected it to happen like this.
—There's no other explanation. I transmigrated to another world. I can pretty much take that as fact—there's no place like this where I come from.
Long ago, all coastlines and nearby islets had been turned into resorts or vacation spots, making it impossible to find a place like this without massive hotels in sight. And if one still existed, it was probably private property.
Still, his idea of transmigration was overshadowed by his physical appearance. While his body seemed the same as in his old world, there was no way to check his face to confirm.
So he touched his face in every way possible, trying to compare it to what he remembered.
—This is hard. I haven't touched my face enough times in my life to recognize myself without a mirror—how annoying. Actually... I don't even remember my face that well.
No results. But something lightly brushed against his face.
—So I was right...
He raised his hand and touched his hair.
Again, an expression of disgust crossed Shade's face.
—Definitely not me. This isn't something I'd have on my head.
His hair stretched down past his shoulders—tangled, greasy, and full of dried leaves.
His unmistakably short hair in his past life made confusion impossible in this situation. Still, he plucked a strand to be sure.
Shade stared at it for a moment, even pulling out another one to confirm what his eyes were seeing.
—Black, sure. Even blond. Or red, or blue, maybe. But white? That's for old men.
It was confirmed. This wasn't his world. Transmigration was real. But Shade was anything but happy about it.
He lowered his head and massaged his temple, letting out a deep sigh.
—Why does this happen to me? I jumped off that damn building because I was done with all that nonsense, and now I get dragged into somewhere even worse.
Shade thought about it for a second.
—Actually, scratch that. Nothing's worse than Neon Reach. Still... I'm tired. I'd rather have just died and been done with it...
The young man fell silent for a few minutes, thinking about what to do now. It was night, and the whole area seemed far too hostile.
—Maybe staying here until sunrise is the best move, —he told himself, watching the moon.
The wind howled again. Some leaves from the tree he was under fell on him, while others were swept far away.
—Damn it, another one waking up.
A rough voice spoke from somewhere. Shade looked up, following the sound.
In front of him, a human figure draped in a cloak that hid most of his face stared at him with disdain.
—Do me a favor—go die somewhere else, or just die here, yeah?
The old man, gripping a shovel with both hands, glared at the strange young man with clear irritation.
—What? —Shade asked, confused.
The man seemed startled to hear him speak, even taking a few steps back. But as if trying to assert dominance, he raised his voice.
—I said get lost, damn it!
The man held his shovel defensively, but his weary eyes filled with worry.
Shade stayed still, frowning.
—Relax, old man. I don't want to fight, or anything. I'm just as confused as you are, alright?
The man stepped forward cautiously.
—No. You shouldn't be talking. You shouldn't even be alive right now. You're a damn Returned.
The man instantly seized Shade's full attention, leaving him stunned.
—Returned? What the hell does that mean?