NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Really!?
I groaned, lifting one arm and draping it over my eyes in a weak attempt to block out whatever light was stabbing into my eyes. Sleep had been elusive lately, and I just wanted to drift off again.
But then, like a jolt of reality, a few critical facts hit me: a) I live alone, and b) I had made sure all the lights were off when I went to bed last night.
Confused, I pushed myself up, struggling to open my eyes fully as I scanned my surroundings.
The scene that greeted me was enough to stop my heart for a beat. I was surrounded by kids—far more than I could make sense of at a glance.
My initial thought was that this couldn't get any worse, but that was before I noticed something else.
No one seemed even remotely startled by my sudden movement. In fact, no one even looked up when I bolted upright. It took me a moment to register the full absurdity of the situation.
As I took in the room again, I realized that I was standing, but everything around me appeared much too large.
Looking down at my body, a sudden sinking feeling washed over me. I was shorter. Much shorter.
The shock took a while to fully process—probably the result of a mix of disbelief and denial—but it eventually clicked.
I wasn't just seeing things; I had somehow been transformed into a kid.
And judging by the tattered secondhand clothes I was wearing, I wasn't in some fancy private school or anything.
No, this was an orphanage. That was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with.
The lack of any particular routine or sense of order only confirmed my suspicions.
As I stood there, trying to wrap my head around the situation, one thing became clear: I had somehow been de-aged.
From what I could gather in that first glance, I was probably about ten years old again. It felt strange, like looking at a version of myself from a time I hadn't experienced in years—too many years, in fact.
The realization that I was now trapped in this young body sent a wave of discomfort through me. I wasn't sure how I felt about this. A child again? It wasn't exactly something I was jumping for joy about.
As I processed all of this, I stood up and walked out of the room, absently running a hand through my hair. It was a habit I had whenever I was trying to think things through, though it wasn't quite working.
My hair—now that was something else. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was a lot shorter than I remembered. I didn't like it.
Short hair never suited me. The person who had occupied this body before me clearly hadn't shared that opinion.
But then again, I knew kids probably got their hair cut regularly here—probably more than I wanted to imagine.
So I wasn't blaming the body for the haircut. I just wasn't a fan of it, and that was enough to irritate me.
After a moment of grumbling to myself, I kept walking. It wasn't long before I found the dormitory area.
The small, flimsy name cards on the doors caught my attention. They were simple, made of cheap paper, and scribbled on with what looked like a Sharpie.
I stopped by one of them and read the name written on it, my chest tightening with sudden frustration. The name on the card was "Alex Grey."
"Really?" I muttered under my breath, irritation bubbling up inside me. "I couldn't even get a fresh name?"
It didn't make sense. Why would I reuse the same name I had before? It was frustrating, almost like I hadn't bothered to try for something more original.
Still, I couldn't deny that the name was familiar to me. It wasn't like I had to struggle to remember it—it was like slipping into an old pair of shoes.
This wasn't the first time I'd found myself in a situation like this, after all. I'd done it before: sent versions of myself into different worlds, for reasons that were mostly just for my own amusement.
But this time… this world? I had no idea what kind of place I had ended up in. At least the last time, the setting was clear enough.
Sighing, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, taking a moment to look around. The room was as plain as it could get. It wasn't the worst I'd ever seen, but it was pretty close.
The space was tiny—barely the size of a broom closet—and there wasn't much in it. A small cot sat against one wall, and next to it was an even smaller drawer.
That was it. No lamp, no decorations, nothing. My eyes drifted to the cot, and a thought crept into my mind: That bed looks way too small for me.
But then I caught myself. I wasn't over six feet tall anymore. That was going to take some getting used to—maybe a day or two before it stopped feeling so strange.
After another glance around the bare room, I decided it was time to check on myself. I needed to take stock of what I was working with in this new world.
Pulling off the shirt I had on, I noticed how loose it was. It wasn't a big deal, though; I'd always liked baggy clothes.
Tossing the shirt onto the cot, I looked down at my chest and frowned. I was really thin—thinner than I had ever been before.
I'd always been on the skinny side, but this was different. I was practically skin and bones.
Judging by the state of my clothes and the overall feel of the place, I guessed this orphanage didn't have much funding, especially when it came to food.
It wasn't ideal, but I wasn't too bothered. I'd dealt with hunger before, and this wasn't my first time going without.
I let out a small sigh and moved on, focusing on the rest of me. My skin tone was the same, which was a relief. It would've been unsettling if that had suddenly changed.
At least I was still in the same body as before—just a younger version.
But as I looked closer, something caught my attention: scars. My arms and chest were marked with several of them, and they weren't familiar.
I already had a fair number of scars from my first life, thanks to an eventful and not-always-safe past, but these were different.
They weren't mine. I didn't know their stories, but I could tell by the shape and placement that they weren't accidents.
The marks looked like the results of deliberate injuries—either adults here have it out for me or they look the other way when some kids get their hands on a knife.