Just woke up

Athan looked outside the classroom window, sighing heavily for the tenth time that day.

The discussion in the classroom continued as the teacher droned on about something that entered his left ear and exited through his right. It was just white noise at this point.

His gaze wandered across the classroom, taking in the scene. Whenever he met someone's eyes, they quickly averted their gaze, as if he were some kind of menace.

Another helpless sigh escaped his lips, marking the eleventh time that day.

This scenario—this exact kind of situation—was something he had only read about in novels and TV shows. Yet, experiencing it firsthand was an entirely different, unexplainable matter.

The last thing he remembered was driving his new sports sedan. The thrill of speed, the smooth hum of the engine beneath his fingertips, and the satisfaction of finally affording such a luxury after years of struggle were fresh in his mind. Then, out of nowhere, a street dog dashed into the road. He knew he had a choice—hit the dog and keep driving, or swerve to avoid it. His body acted before his mind, and he jerked the wheel sharply. The tires screeched, metal twisted, and before he knew it, his car crashed through the railing and plummeted off a rocky cliff.

Then, nothing.

And now, he was here.

Sitting in a classroom. Listening to an archaic lecture. It was torture beyond anything he could have imagined. He knew he wasn't a saint, but to be forced into reliving school again? He would have preferred the fires of hell over this nightmare.

School had always been an uphill battle for him. From elementary to college, it was nothing but an exhausting struggle. And yet, after everything—after all the effort to escape the hardships of youth—he was back in a classroom, surrounded by anxious students who looked at him as if he were a walking disaster.

As he reflected on his past, he realized how difficult his journey had been. Born and raised in a government orphanage, he had decided to become independent at sixteen. The orphanage offered protection until eighteen, but his pride wouldn't allow him to accept charity. Even if he were starving, he would rather suffer alone than rely on the goodwill of others. That same stubbornness and self-reliance had helped him succeed in his previous life. But before he could enjoy the fruits of his labor, fate had other plans.

Life had never been fair. And it never would be.

But now, the real question was—where was he? What had happened to him?

He wasn't clueless about reincarnation scenarios. Whether this was a novel, a game, a drama, or a pure fantasy world, one thing was clear—he lacked information. And Athan hated lacking information. Not knowing what kind of world he was in made his skin crawl. Was this a gory apocalypse? A medieval warzone? A world filled with supernatural horrors? Or—

Wait.

What if this was an R18+ world? That wouldn't be so bad…

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus. He needed to assess the situation properly.

He carefully observed his surroundings. The students around him fidgeted nervously, shifting in their seats as if they had hemorrhoids. The teacher at the front of the classroom stammered mid-sentence, his chalk slipping from his fingers. The classroom atmosphere was tense. It wasn't just mild nervousness—this was pure fear.

But fear of what?

Athan's confusion deepened. Only the mute could claim to be missing, so he decided to ask the thin boy sitting beside him. Gathering information was crucial.

"Sup. Do you know what my name is?" Athan asked calmly, turning to the boy on his left. His right seat was empty.

The boy paled instantly, his face draining of all color. He started trembling lightly.

Athan frowned. Was he sick?

"Are you alright? Did you hear me?" he asked again, slightly louder this time.

The boy's shivering intensified, and his teeth clattered audibly. Then, with great difficulty, he managed to stutter out a response.

"M…M…aster."

Athan raised an eyebrow.

Master? What kind of ridiculous name was that? Who would name their kid Master?

Still, he was grateful for the answer. "Thanks. Anyway, are you sure you're okay?"

The boy looked worse than before, swaying even though he was sitting down. Athan, feeling slightly guilty for possibly intimidating the poor guy, reached out to pat his shoulder reassuringly.

The second his hand neared, the boy leaped out of his seat as if struck by lightning—and promptly collapsed.

Athan's hand remained suspended in the air, his mouth slightly open in shock.

Did he just… pass out?

Recovering quickly, he turned to the teacher at the front of the room. "Teacher, my seatmate just lost consciousness!" he called out, using the most responsible, honor-student voice he could muster.

The room erupted into hushed whispers as the students turned their gazes toward the scene. Athan noticed their expressions—pity, concern, and unmistakable fear. His confusion only deepened.

The teacher straightened his bowtie and cleared his throat. "Samantha, Mark, please take Kenny to the infirmary. The rest of you, settle down—we will continue our discussion."

Athan watched as the class president and another student carefully lifted his unconscious seatmate. They avoided looking at him entirely, moving as silently as possible as they carried Kenny out of the classroom. The moment they left, the class returned to normal as if nothing had happened.

Athan was dumbfounded.

Something wasn't right.

Not only was he feared, but it was on a level beyond normal bullying or delinquency. He had encountered his fair share of goons and troublemakers in his past life, but those guys could still be confronted, fought, or reasoned with. The reaction he was getting here was entirely different.

It was as if he was… untouchable.

He needed to understand his new identity.

Pulling his things together, he started sifting through his belongings. It didn't take long before he found an ID inside his wallet.

Athan Silvernight.

So, his name here was still Athan. Interesting.

But his belongings raised even more questions.

A butterfly knife. Expensive cigarettes. A sleek, high-end lighter. Several golden bank cards. Ultra-thin condoms. A signature leather bag. A wristwatch that was definitely worth more than his previous life's entire college tuition.

Not a single notebook, pen, or textbook in sight.

Athan let out a low chuckle.

He had a pretty good idea of what kind of character he was now. If this were a novel, game, or drama, then he was almost certain about his fate.

Poverty, death, or a tragic married life.

None of those were good options.

Ding!

A mechanical sound echoed in his mind.

Athan froze. Then, as realization dawned, he nearly burst into tears.

Heaven was not without mercy, after all.

A system! He had a system!

Athan took a deep breath, feeling a rush of hope. This could be his key to survival—no, his key to thriving in this world. If he played his cards right, he might be able to escape whatever dark fate awaited this body.

With renewed determination, he focused on the system's interface, ready to unravel the mysteries of his new existence.

He had been given a second chance.

And he was damn sure he wouldn't waste it.