So painful!
So painful!
My head hurts so much!
A flashy, dazzling world of dreams, full of magic and murmurs, shattered instantly. All that dreamlike landscape—golden lights floating in the air, voices whispering in languages I didn't understand, blurry shapes moving as if they were dancing—broke like a mirror struck by a stone. The fragments fell into the darkness, and in their place, a sharp, abnormal pain remained in my head.
As if someone had hit me with a stick over and over again. It wasn't like a sharp object piercing through my temples. It was denser, deeper, as if something inside my skull was pushing outward, trying to force its way out.
A dull pain that spread from the nape of my neck to my forehead, throbbing to the rhythm of my heart.
"Ow!"
I tried to turn upward or downward. However, I couldn't move my limbs, as if I had lost all control over my body. My arms lay inert at my sides, heavy as if they were made of lead. My legs didn't respond. My fingers didn't move. I could only roll my eyes inside their sockets, and even that didn't help much, because all I saw was a strange sky, brighter than normal, with two pale moons drawn in the distance.
So it seems, I'm still not awake. I'm still in a dream.
"Incredible," I managed to say, but the voice that sounded wasn't mine. It was more masculine and more... old? No, it wasn't exactly old. It was a voice I didn't recognize, deeper, lower, with a timbre that didn't belong to my throat. A voice that resonated in my ears as if it came from another person, though I knew it had come from my mouth.
I looked ahead. The mountains, full of a green color thanks to the large trees, made for a magnificent view. They were tall, imposing, covered in vegetation so dense it seemed to have no end. The air smelled of fresh grass, damp earth, and something else I couldn't identify, something sweet and metallic at the same time, as if the wind itself were charged with magic. Suddenly, memories that weren't mine mixed with my consciousness, making the pain tighten in my head again.
Shit!
They weren't complete memories. They were fragments. Loose images that stuck in my mind like needles: an enormous mansion, a hall with golden candelabras, a male voice shouting my name—no, someone else's name—, the face of a woman with yellow hair, the taste of expensive wine, the weight of a sword in my hand. And then, suddenly, emptiness. The sensation of having been torn from something.
I put my right hand in, shaking it violently to pull out a paper I felt crumpled between my fingers. My movements were clumsy, as if the body didn't fully obey me, but I finally managed to pull it out. The paper said: "Due to your repugnant behavior, as head of the Silva family, I expel you from the family." Att. Tylor Silva.
The letters were written in a firm, elegant handwriting, without a single hesitation. There weren't even any crossed-out words. Whoever wrote it did so with total certainty, without regretting it for even an instant.
"Hahaha," I let out an incredulous laugh. A laugh that sounded empty, broken, as if even I didn't believe it. Yosua Silva. That's not me! I've read many web novels, so I suppose this is some kind of transmigration. Shit. I couldn't help but curse mentally at everything that was happening.
Transmigration. The word bounced in my head like a ball. I had read dozens of stories like this: people who died in their world and woke up in another, in the body of a noble, a hero, a villain. I always thought it was a ridiculous fantasy, a cheap literary device to justify any plot. And now I was there. With a paper in my hand that expelled me from a family I didn't know, in a body that wasn't mine, in a world I didn't even know how it worked.
A kind of luxury suitcase was next to me. It was large, made of dark leather with golden clasps, and it seemed heavy. I opened it with effort. There were jewels—necklaces, rings, earrings—, well-folded clothes, and among the garments, some fabrics that glowed with a faint radiance, as if they had a life of their own. I can say they're worth a fortune in my world. Just looking at the pants, they'd be worth about five thousand dollars. Maybe more. The fabric was soft, fine, with embroidery that seemed handmade.
I picked up a hand mirror that was among the belongings and looked at myself.
My hair was black, in an impossible hairstyle, and it reached my neck without touching my shoulders. The face, totally clean, with a strand to the side and some glasses that made this face look even more beautiful. The skin was pale, almost translucent, and the cheekbones high, defined. It was the face of someone who had never worked under the sun, of someone who had been born with privileges. The eyes, which were previously brown (according to his memories), were now black like moonless nights. Like those of my old self.
I stared at the mirror for several seconds. It wasn't my face. It wasn't my nose, nor my mouth, nor my jaw. It was another. Someone else, more handsome, more... perfect. And yet, there I was, looking at myself through those black eyes that did belong to me. The only ones I had kept.
Although it's strange, from here on I have to get used to a new world. I have to get used to another name. I have to get used to being someone I'm not.
I set the mirror aside and took a deep breath. The air entered my lungs and came out trembling. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to go. I didn't know if this was a dream I would wake up from or a reality I couldn't escape.
***
A woman with yellow hair and eyes of the same color took a step, breaking a branch with her elegant sandals. The crack echoed in the silence of the forest like a gunshot. Her white dress swayed with each step, and the hem dragged dry leaves and small wildflowers. She pushed the branch aside with a gloved hand and found the man she was looking for.
"Yosua, you're a bastard. I'll do everything I can to get you expelled from the academy and have your title of professor taken away."
The voice resonated with hatred and fury. It wasn't an empty threat. It was a promise. Lilia begged with all her strength for Yosua to disappear forever. Her yellow eyes shone with an intensity that bordered on feverish, and her hands, clenched at her sides, trembled slightly. When she saw Yosua, his black eyes met hers.
There was a silence. A long, uncomfortable silence, in which neither of them looked away.
"And who are you?" Yosua asked with an innocent voice.
Lilia's jaw tensed, clenching her teeth. "What do you mean by who I am?" Lilia's voice sounded with aggression and hatred. But beneath that hatred there was something else. Confusion. Bewilderment. As if Yosua's answer had been the last thing she expected to hear.
Yosua let out a sigh, ignoring Lilia. "You're annoying," he said. He already knew who Lilia was according to his new memories, but he couldn't afford the luxury of stressing over her. The only thing in Yosua's mind was a place to spend the night or return to his old world. He had no energy for other people's dramas, for vengeances that weren't his, for hatreds he hadn't sown.
What's happening to him? Why is he acting like this now? No, not just that. He feels different. Lilia thought, observing Yosua with disdain. There was something in his posture, in his voice, in the way he looked at her without recognizing her, that didn't fit with the Yosua she knew.
Yosua laid his body on the grass, chewing on a small branch. The grass was fresh, green, and the sun fell on his face with a warmth he didn't expect. He closed his eyes for a moment, just a moment, and let the tiredness wash over him.
Lilia's head was a mess. Although she deeply hated Yosua, a nineteen-year-old teenager, even if she was a noble, couldn't do much against a professor of the magic faculty. Seeing that Yosua ignored her, she had no other choice but to withdraw. She turned around, with her fists clenched, and walked back to where the carriage was waiting for her. She got into the carriage, asking the driver to depart again toward her respective home.
"Damn it," she murmured, as the carriage moved away and the forest fell silent again.
***
What a strange girl. According to Yosua Silva's memories, most of the students hated him so much they wanted him dead. But now I'm Yosua Silva and I have to take on this shitty role. I didn't ask for this. I didn't choose this. But here I am.
I checked the other bag and inside there were different tools: axe, hammer, nails, wires, etc. They were carefully ordered, as if someone had prepared them for a long journey. According to the original owner's memories, this place is set apart from the Silva mansion, but not too far from the academy. An intermediate point. A place where no one would look for him.
I stood up suddenly. (Terrible idea). My rear hit the ground again. A sharp pain rose up my spine and made me clench my teeth. I put my two hands between my knees to get up, slowly this time, measuring every movement. My height was a little taller. This body measures 1.81 and its aura and behavior are impeccable and beautiful. But I'm not the owner of this body, and I can't behave like someone I'm not. Apart from the fact that it feels like someone who steals another's personality, it also costs me points as a man.
I took the gloves off my hands, which were already sweaty, along with the leather shoes, the shirt, and the tie. The clothes were fine, expensive, and fell to the ground with a whisper of fabric. I was left only with pants. The cool air of the forest brushed my bare skin and made me shiver.
I picked up the axe and stood in front of the giant tree in the corner. Its trunk was wide, rough, with roots that stuck out of the earth like twisted fingers. I gripped the axe with both hands and gave a thrust to the tree, moving one of my hands up and down the handle so that the force and impact would be more effective and faster.
"Whack, whack!"
The sounds of the axe cutting the wood resonated with echoes. The first blow barely left a mark. The second, a little deeper. The third, the wood began to give way. I felt the impact in my arms, in my shoulders, in my back. A familiar pain, almost comforting, because it was a pain I had caused myself.
I set the axe aside after only eleven attempts; I was already tired. My breathing was ragged, and sweat ran down my forehead. "It's definitely a fragile body that was always made to do all the chores," I murmured to myself as I wiped the sweat with the back of my hand.
The stream that could be seen a few meters from me had crystal-clear, sparkling blue water. Fish the size of my entire arm jumped gracefully, their scales reflecting the sunlight like small mirrors. The sound of the water running was soft, almost hypnotic. With my left hand I picked up a stone, passing it to my right. Its weight was perfect, smooth and round.
I stood up, taking a baseball player's stance. I tilted my waist well and...
"Whack."
I threw the rock, making the fish that jumped fall toward the outside of the river. The fish landed on the grass, thrashing, its gills opening and closi
ng desperately. I let out a small chuckle.
"That felt so good."
At that moment I went for the fish.
Chapter discussion