ch-6

April 1985.

Zack now fully understood it—he was reincarnated. Or reborn. He still wasn't sure what to call it. One moment he was collapsing in front of a café, coughing up blood, the next he was here—inside the body of a young man with the same name, same face, but a different life.

And now… he had a system.

A strange, glitchy system.

Sometimes it gave rewards.

Sometimes it gave penalties.

And most of the time… it didn't make any sense.

He couldn't trust it. Not yet.

Zack walked through the streets of lower Manhattan, heading toward the neighborhood that was now "home"—Alphabet City. The streets were rough. He'd seen people selling more than just cheap watches on corners. He'd heard a gunshot two blocks over just the night before. The air here smelled of garbage, gasoline, and despair. But the rent was cheap, which is probably why this body's former owner had stayed.

The memories were still merging inside his head.

His memories.

And Zack's memories.

Two timelines, one soul.

The confusion wasn't going away anytime soon. Sometimes he remembered a director's chair, a production budget, studio contracts. Other times he remembered running pizza flyers through the subway just to afford a meal.

But one thing was clear.

This Zack—this young man—was chasing a dream. He wanted to be an actor. A star.

And the old Zack—the one from 2025—understood that feeling too. Even if he'd never chased the spotlight himself, he'd been there, behind the curtain. Watching. Supporting. Carrying sandbags, holding reflectors, fixing lights, patching holes in people's egos.

He had wanted to be a director once. Not for the fame, but for the power to tell stories that mattered. Stories that made someone feel seen. But life hadn't let him. The system crushed him too. Not this system. The real one. The industry.

Now he had a second chance.

He owed it to this body.

He owed it to himself.

"I'll fulfill both our dreams," he muttered under his breath, stepping over a broken beer bottle. "Even if it's impossible."

Because now he wasn't just Zack from 1985. And he wasn't just Zack from 2025. He was both.

He hated acting. That hadn't changed. Being in front of the camera wasn't his thing. But becoming famous—that was now necessary. He needed connections. He needed leverage. He needed power. Not for himself, but for the voices who had none.

Fifteen years in the industry had taught him a cruel truth:

The stars on screen were often the most broken behind it.

And the predators wore suits.

They smiled in interviews.

They won awards.

And they ruined lives behind locked doors.

He couldn't erase what he'd seen. The young interns who disappeared. The actresses who were promised roles and discarded. The hopefuls who smiled through tears.

Not again.

Not in this life.

"I'll play the game. I'll climb the ladder," Zack said, voice quiet. "And then I'll tear it down."

His footsteps slowed as he turned into Avenue C, a narrow street filled with graffiti-covered walls, rusted fences, and the occasional flash of a knife in the dark. Alphabet City wasn't just a neighborhood—it was a warning.

Finally, he reached the building. Four floors, bricks faded from decades of smoke and rain. The iron gate creaked as he pushed it open. He climbed the stairs two at a time. Room 3B.

Home.

It was a single-room apartment, barely thirty square meters. One bed. A small table. A rusted sink. A toaster that probably hadn't worked since the '70s. But it was clean. Somehow, the old Zack—the one whose body he now occupied—had kept it neat.

On the shelf beside the bed were a few old comic books. Zack blinked.

"Superman?" he whispered, pulling one out.

The pages were yellowed but carefully preserved. "Batman and the Red Claw," another title read. A small smile tugged at Zack's lips. He hadn't seen these in forty years. It was like looking into the past with the eyes of a child again.

Then something caught his attention.

Publisher: DC Comics

Founded: 1946

Zack's smile faded.

In his old world, DC Comics started in 1934, under National Allied Publications. They became DC in 1937. But here... 1946?

His fingers tightened on the comic.

Was it just a typo?

No. He flipped through a few more. Every issue said the same thing. DC Comics, founded 1946. He rushed to the closet. Inside were some old magazines. Music charts, film reviews. He scanned them quickly.

The Beatles' first album? 1968.

But in his old world, it came out in 1963.

Zack sat down on the edge of the bed, mind racing. His heart thudded in his chest.

This wasn't just the past.

This was a different past.

A world where history had shifted—slightly—but significantly. Events, dates, and perhaps even people had changed. It looked like 1985 Manhattan. It sounded like it. But it wasn't the same world he came from.

Which meant… all his knowledge?

All his memories of future pop culture?

The hits? The flops? The scandals?

They might not happen the same way. Or at all.

Zack leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

"So this is really… another world," he said.

It changed everything. It made things harder. But it also meant opportunity. If the future here wasn't written, he could write it. Maybe the movies he loved hadn't been made. Maybe the actors he admired hadn't risen. Maybe the monsters hadn't yet found their victims.

"I can still use what I know," he whispered. "But I need to be careful."

Too much change, too fast… he could end up erasing the good with the bad.

He looked back at the comics. Superman stared back with a bold red 'S'.

"Even Superman came from another world," Zack murmured, chuckling softly. "Maybe I'll be fine."

The system pinged.

> [System Notice: You have awakened a new Trait – Parallel Sense]

Trait Description: You will instinctively recognize key historical differences between this world and your previous life.

Zack blinked.

"Well... guess that confirms it."

He stood up, walked to the small mirror above the sink, and looked at himself.

Young. Hungry. Alone. But not hopeless.

"I'll become a star. Then a legend. Then... a shadow they fear."

Because this time, he had two lives behind him.

Two sets of dreams.

And a system—broken or not—that wanted something from him.

He didn't know what that was yet.

But for now, he had one job.

Survive. Shine. And never forget what he came back to do.

_______________________________

**Author's Note:**

I know this chapter might seem cliché, but I assure you, the upcoming chapters will be much more interesting. This one was written this way to help readers understand the MC's mindset and world building .

Please note that all the information provided is not entirely accurate, as this is an alternate world. Some details may have been altered or created to enhance the story and keep it moving forward.

Hope you enjoy!