Chapter 1
New World
Falling...
A chill wind howls around me, tearing at my skin like invisible claws.
I'm falling—no—drifting? Floating?
No, I'm dying.
I think I'm dying.
What... what is this?
My eyes snap open. The world spins. There's no sky, no ground—just nothing and me, plummeting through it. Disoriented. Unanchored. Lost.
I am lost.
Symbols and sounds invade my senses—
@£__*::£_##£¥$€¥¢—nonsense gibberish, or maybe some cosmic truth I'm not meant to understand.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
The scream rips from my throat, raw and wet as I choke on my own breath. My lungs burn. My vision blurs. Thoughts collapse in on themselves as something unseen claws at me—pounding, howling, ravaging my sanity.
I can't think.
I can't breathe.
I can't see.
Make it stop.
STOP.
"STOP?!!"
"STOOOOOOOOOOP!!"
I shriek, voice cracking, pain exploding in my chest as I spiral down through nothing —until, without warning...
Everything halts.
There's a sudden thud.
Pain. Solid. Real.
I blink. My face is pressed against cold wood. Groaning, I push myself off the floor.
"…Ow…"
My dumbass had rolled off the bed.
Head throbbing, dignity gone, I slowly sit up.
I grimaced as a sharp pain lanced through my skull, like a hot needle threading through my thoughts. I took a shaky breath, letting it drag slow and deep into my lungs, trying to still the pounding behind my eyes.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My palms were clammy against the floorboards. My heart thudded with the same frantic rhythm as before—only now, it was quiet. No screaming void, no cosmic madness.
Just... pain. And silence.
I slowly lifted my head.
And froze.
What was here… was wrong.
The walls were stone, ancient and rough-hewn, lit by the flickering glow of torches. The air smelled of damp earth and iron. The bed I'd apparently fallen from wasn't mine—it was wooden, plain, and draped with coarse, unfamiliar fabric. There were no windows, only a heavy wooden door bolted shut.
This isn't my room.
My heart stuttered.
This isn't my house.
I stood too fast and stumbled, catching myself on the edge of a small table carved with symbols I didn't recognize.
"What the hell...?"
The room was suffocatingly small—so small that if I somehow doubled my height and stretched out flat, my head would press against one wall while my feet touched the other.
Nothing but the essentials cluttered the space: a bed, a desk, and a closet—all crafted from rough, unpolished wood. No decoration, no comfort. Just stark, cold practicality.
But then my eyes caught something out of place.
A light bulb.
Or... something pretending to be one.
It wasn't like any bulb I'd ever seen before. No metal filament, no visible wiring. Just a plain stick stuck inside a cracked piece of glass—no circuits, no source of power. Yet somehow, it glowed faintly, casting a dull, yellow light across the cramped room.
How does this even work?
My eyes scanned the room again, and something else hit me—like a punch in the gut.
The furniture looked old. Not just simple or rustic, but ancient. The bed, the chair, even the walls themselves carried an outdated design, like something straight out of a forgotten era.
And then—wait.
Where the hell is the bathroom?
I blinked. No sink. No toilet. No shower. Not even a damn bucket.
"What the fuck?" I blurted out loud, voice echoing weirdly in the tiny box of a room.
No toilet. No bathroom. Nothing. Just four walls, a bed, a desk, and a closet.
This is some kind of sick joke.
I felt my frustration bubble up, ready to burst.
"I need the fucking manager!" I snarled, stomping toward the door like I was about to storm out—or break it down.
But then I stopped dead.
That so-called "window" wasn't a window at all. It was a crudely carved hole in the side of the wall. No glass. No screen. Just a gaping hole to the outside world—or whatever was out there.
My gut twisted. The room's poor condition wasn't just uncomfortable, it felt like a violation. Like someone had locked me inside this prison of wood and stone.
I took a deep breath, ready to smash the door open—
—and then my eyes landed on a small mirror resting on the desk.
Something about it caught my attention.
I approached the desk slowly, heart pounding like a drum in my ears.
My hand trembled just slightly as I reached out and picked up the small mirror, its cold frame rough against my fingers.
The reflection stared back—a stranger wearing my horrified expression.
I blinked. Wait...
Have I...
The pieces clicked in my mind like a sudden thunderclap.
Because, being the very cultured and well-read individual I am, the truth hit me like a freight train:
Isekai'd.
Wtf!!!
This is insane!!
I stared at the face in the mirror—my face?
Dark caramel skin stretched across my cheekbones, smooth but weathered somehow. Deep brown eyes, nearly black, stared back at me with an intensity that made my chest tighten.
My hair was braided into plain cornrows, neat and simple.
I was a Black man.
Wait—I am a Black man. Or was?
The memories were fuzzy, like trying to grab smoke through my fingers. I couldn't quite tell if this body was truly mine—or if I had always been like this.
But a feeling simmered deep inside, a quiet certainty amidst the haze.
Yes, I was Black before this.
Or at least, I thought I was.
But looking closer at my slightly large nose and full, plump lips, I couldn't help but wonder...
Because, didn't they always say when you get isekai'd, you usually end up as some Asian guy with black hair—or maybe a white dude with blonde hair? I see someone decided that they were feeling a little inclusive today.
After staring at myself for what felt like an eternity, a sudden rush of urgency hit me.
I had to see this world I'd landed in. No more hiding. No more questions—at least, not yet.
So, I stood in front of the door, heart hammering, palms sweaty.
Nervous as hell, I took a deep breath and finally—finally—summoned the guts to push it open.
The moment the door swung wide, I let out a loud gasp.
The sight that greeted me was... shocking. Surprising.
"This place... this place is..."
I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing.
Then it hit me—
"This place is a shit hole!"