Then I remembered.
A farm system.
Great.
Of all the systems I could have inherited, I got the one that wanted me to get my hands dirty—literally.
When I opened my eyes, the world had changed.
Gone were the dim walls of the shabby farmhouse. Gone was the musty scent of straw and smoke.
What greeted me now was a vast, endless expanse of green. A horizon so wide and open, it felt like the sky itself was breathing.
Lush grass stretched in every direction, soft, vibrant, and impossibly alive. There wasn't a single tree in sight, not even a hill. Just open land that rolled on forever like an untouched canvas.
I turned my head to the right, and that's when I saw it.
A barn. But not just any barn. It was massive, painted a bold red with crisp white trim, the kind you'd only ever see in agricultural documentaries or overly-idealized simulation games.
Beside it stood a house—modern, two-story, and surprisingly cozy-looking, with wide windows and a porch that begged for quiet tea-drinking mornings.
My breath caught in my throat.
My heart pounded—fast and loud, almost painfully so. Too fast to be considered normal.
It was like I'd stepped into a dream.
Or at best, a highly-immersive simulator.
I staggered back a step, legs weak of years of malnutrition, and stumbled, falling unto the plush grass, I didn't even realize that I was standing, my hands were quick; curling into the soft, springy grass below.
Slowly, I realized that this was all real.
the air smelled different here, cleaner, richer. The sky overhead was unnaturally clear, the kind of clear that made you feel like the world had been reset.
I touched my chest, half-expecting it to glitch.
But no, my heart kept thundering.
What was this place?
And more importantly—what was I supposed to do here?
But being a doctor meant staying calm under pressure—whether your patient was bleeding out or your soul had just been transferred into some mysterious farming dimension. So, I inhaled slowly, grounding myself, and continued surveying the strange landscape around me.
It was surreal. Peaceful. Too peaceful.
Still, I needed answers.
My eyes drifted toward the modern-looking house, its clean white walls and warm wooden door seeming entirely out of place in this endless field of green. I hesitated, then began to move toward it—forcing my legs, weak from disuse, to obey.
Each step was heavier than expected, as though I was walking underwater. But strangely, I wasn't exhausted. In fact, the more I walked, the steadier I felt.
It was subtle, but something in the back of my mind noticed it—the way the air felt different here. Fresher, lighter... charged, almost. I couldn't help but wonder: Was it the air that was helping me move? Was this place designed to support the body?
The thought nagged at me like an itch I couldn't scratch.
When I finally reached the door, I paused for only a moment before placing my hand on the handle. It was warm—unnaturally so, as if the house had been waiting for me.
I pushed it open.
What greeted me inside was the last thing I expected.
Luxury.
The interior of the house was nothing short of breathtaking. The floor beneath my feet was pristine white marble, cool and gleaming like it had just been polished. Everything was immaculate—from the soft lighting overhead to the smooth, minimal furniture that looked like it belonged in a high-end lifestyle magazine.
It had everything—a modern kitchen, plush seating, floor-to-ceiling windows that let the surreal outside light spill in. I walked slowly, my steps echoing lightly against the stone floor, guided more by instinct than thought.
Curiosity tugged at me like an invisible thread, leading me deeper into the space.
Eventually, I reached what I assumed to be the living room.
And then I stopped.
What greeted me wasn't just sleek furniture or some advanced panel waiting for input—it was a person.
No, not quite a person.
A figure stood at the center of the room, humanoid in shape—but unmistakably unnatural.
Green hair cascaded over her shoulders like vines in spring. Her sharp eyes locked onto mine the moment I entered. A sudden, wide smile bloomed on her face, eerily warm and far too enthusiastic.
Before I could say a word, she rose to her feet.
And then—whoosh.
Wings. Large, iridescent wings burst from her back in a flurry of shimmering green light, like a butterfly unfurling from its cocoon.
My mouth parted slightly.
Huh.
I let out a small, undignified grunt before spinning on my heel and bolting straight for the kitchen.
I ran, faster than I expected with these twig pair of legs that I own.
The weird fairy, or whatever she was, floated after me with an infuriatingly calm expression, wings fluttering like she was enjoying a leisurely stroll through a flower field. I ducked behind the kitchen counter, heart pounding, and circled around it like I was in some slapstick cartoon chase scene.
My back hit something solid.
Very solid.
Wait... large?
I blinked, craning my neck and realizing just how far I had to look up to see the top of the counter. Everything around me was bigger. Much bigger.
Oh right. I transmigrated.
I looked down at my hands—small, delicate, thin. Not the hands of a renowned 23rd-century doctor and chef. No, these were the hands of a child.
That realization didn't well in my spiraling thoughts, or my hammering heart.
Then a shadow loomed over me.
I looked up, way up, and nearly screamed when I found the fairy's face hovering inches from mine, her enormous green eyes wide with curiosity and just a bit too much enthusiasm.
She smiled. Again. Too sweetly.
"Why are you running, Host?" she asked, tilting her head. "Do you not like magical introductions?"
Her wings buzzed lightly, and I could smell something floral—unnaturally pleasant. It made me more nervous.
"Personal space," I hissed, pressing my back harder against the counter. "Ever heard of it?"
She beamed. "Not in my programming!"
She cleared her throat. A dainty little ahem that somehow echoed with unnatural authority, as she hovered in front of me, effortlessly suspended in the air.
I couldn't move. I was backed into a corner, both literally and existentially.
"Hello, Master," she said cheerfully, her voice melodic and far too composed for someone introducing themselves in this absurd situation. "I'm Green, the fairy of this dimension."
Fairy of this dimension?
I could only stare at her, wide-eyed and unblinking.
She blinked back. "Master? Are you alright?"
No. No, I was not alright.