Published: July 25, 2025
Bang! Bang! With sounds like something was being slammed onto the floor or a table, the place where I was lying down shook violently. Each time it vibrated, my head pounded as if being struck, and I groaned softly, furrowing my brows tightly.
So noisy... seriously noisy.
That annoying racket and shaking didn’t seem like it would stop anytime soon; it continued in a steady rhythm, making it impossible to sleep.
Awakened by the pounding vibrations resonating through my head, I covered my ears, trying to block out the noise.
But my body wouldn’t move as I willed it. A high fever, like I’d caught the flu, and joint pains spread through my entire body.
“Ugh...”
I needed my glasses to understand the situation. Keeping my eyes closed, I searched for the glasses that were always kept by my pillow. My hands moved sluggishly, as if my whole body was numb.
As my hands moved slowly, I heard a rustling sound beneath me, like paper or grass scraping against my body.
“...What’s that sound?”
Though my voice should have been hoarse from the fever, a high-pitched, childish voice came from my mouth. It was certainly not the voice I was used to hearing.
My whole body felt weak from the fever, so I wanted to keep sleeping. But I couldn’t ignore the strange circumstances surrounding me any longer, and I slowly opened my heavy eyelids.
It seemed my fever was quite high because my vision was blurry and distorted. Perhaps my tears acted like glasses, because everything looked much clearer than usual.
“Huh?”
What came into view was a ceiling that was probably once white but now blackened with soot, multiple thick dark beams crisscrossing, and a huge spiderweb.
None of these matched anything in my memory.
“...Where is this?”
Careful not to let tears fall from my blurry eyes, I scanned the surroundings with just my eyeballs. I immediately realized this was not Japan, the place where I was born and raised.
Judging from the ceiling’s shape, the architectural style was Western, not Japanese. And it wasn’t modern steel construction — it looked old.
The bed I was lying on was hard, with no mattress. Instead, a strangely prickly material was used as a cushion. The thin, dirty blanket covering me smelled weird, and my body itched in many places, probably from fleas or mites.
“Wait a minute...”
The last thing I remembered was being crushed under a pile of books, but apparently I wasn’t rescued. At least, no filthy hospital that would let a patient lie on such a dirty blanket exists in Japan, as far as I know.
I timidly held my hand up in front of my eyes. What I saw was a skinny, small child’s hand.
Since I was mostly indoors reading books, I was pale and unhealthy-looking, which matched. But my 22-year-old hands were properly adult. These looked like malnourished little kid’s hands.
The child’s hand moved as I willed it — opening and closing. The body controlled by my will was not my familiar one. Shocked, my mouth dried up as if a desert.
“...What is this?”
Could this be reincarnation? Had the gods, hearing my wish, let me be reborn so I could read books again?
I had no idea what was going on.
Eager to gather any information, I slowly lifted my heavy head and raised my feverish body. Sweat glued my hair to my neck, but I paid no mind and looked around the room.
There was only a bed-like platform, the thin dirty blanket, and a few wooden boxes for storage. No bookshelf.
“No books...”
There was a doorway left open. The pounding noise in my head had ceased, but I heard footsteps and someone bustling about.
I had no clue what was happening.
From the columns, walls, and furniture, the style looked old Western. Not modern. Maybe a country not very civilized, or had I time-traveled to the past? How could I make sense of this situation?
“Am I dreaming some weird dream right before dying?”
As I pondered with my fever-clouded mind, a woman appeared, perhaps noticing the noise or hearing my voice.
She looked like a late-20s woman wearing something like a triangular cloth on her head — a disappointingly plain beauty. Her face was pretty but dirty. Her clothes and face could use a good wash; it was a shame.