Krish jolted awake, his breathing uneven and erratic.
Cold.
That was the first thing he felt.
A biting, unnatural cold that seeped deep into his bones—as if his body had been submerged in icy water for hours. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as though he were trying to understand where he was.
"…Alive?"
The word slipped from his trembling lips in a broken whisper.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Darkness.
Not the familiar darkness of a room or night—but something far deeper, endless. There was no ceiling, no walls, no ground. It felt as if he were floating in a void.
"Where… am I?" he murmured.
His body felt strange. Heavy, yet numb. When he tried to move his hands, there was a strange delay—as if his mind and body were no longer in sync.
Suddenly—
[DING!]
A sharp, mechanical sound echoed through the void.
Krish flinched and grabbed his head in pain.
"What was that?!"
Before he could process anything, glowing blue text appeared before his eyes.
---
[Aesthetic Paradox System initializing…]
[Host status: Unstable]
[Life termination event: Confirmed]
[Cause of death: — Unknown —]
---
Krish froze.
"…Life termination?"
"…Death?"
His heart began pounding violently.
"No… that can't be right. I was falling… I was scared… but I—"
The screen flickered, as if reacting to his denial.
---
[Emotional resistance detected in host]
[Memory lock: 63%]
[Reincarnation sequence in progress]
---
"Reincarnation…?" he whispered in disbelief.
Before he could ask anything else—the door to the room opened, and a woman walked in.
But—
A room?
Krish's mind stuttered.
Just moments ago, he had been in the void. In darkness. So where did this room come from?
Bright light stabbed his eyes, forcing him to shut them tightly.
The woman didn't look very old—maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. Wheatish complexion, long hair neatly tied. Her clothes looked old-fashioned, yet she was quite beautiful.
There was a strange sharpness on her face. The moment she entered, she started scolding Krish.
"You're still sleeping? Your father left for the office ages ago, and you're lying here like you've sold horses all night!"
"What are you staring at? Get up and come outside. I'm not coming to call you again—don't complain later."
After saying that, she muttered to herself and left just as quickly as she had entered.
Krish remained seated on the bed, staring at the door in shock. He couldn't understand who that woman was who had scolded him and left.
The sound of the door closing echoed in the room.
Krish was still sitting there, frozen.
"…Dad?"
The word slipped out on its own.
It felt foreign to him. In his previous life, that word had never meant warmth—only distance, taunts, and silence.
He slowly looked around.
The room was small. Very small. The walls were peeling in places. In one corner stood an old wooden cupboard with cracked glass. A thin ray of sunlight entered through the window, dust particles floating within it.
This wasn't a hospital.
Nor was it the void.
This was… someone's home.
His home?
Yet completely unfamiliar. He had never seen this place before today.
Krish looked at his hands.
Thick. Short. Fingers swollen with excess flesh. Faint marks covered his arms—old scratches and perhaps bruises.
His heart began to race.
He tried to get off the bed, but lost balance. The moment his feet touched the floor, his body wobbled.
"Uff—"
The voice—
It wasn't his.
It was thinner. Raw. Slightly childish.
He somehow steadied himself and moved toward the cracked mirror in front of him.
And then—
He saw himself.
A round face. Puffy cheeks. Thick neck. Swollen eyes. Messy, greasy hair. A face society would easily label as "weird" or "ugly."
Krish's breath caught.
"No…"
His throat went dry.
"This… is me?"
"My face…"
"My face… changed."
Sudden memories—fragmented—stabbed into his mind.
The school ground.
Laughter.
"Fat!"
"Drum!"
"If he looks at the mirror, it'll break!"
He placed his hand on the mirror.
Cold.
Real.
This wasn't a dream.
Then—
[DING!]
Blue light appeared again.
[HOST BODY ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
[NAME: Krish Prabhakar]
[AGE: 16 YEARS]
[PHYSICAL STATUS: OBESE | LOW AESTHETIC SCORE]
[SOCIAL STANDING: ISOLATED | LOW CONFIDENCE]
[MENTAL STATE: FRAGMENTED | TRAUMA MATCH — CONFIRMED]
---
Krish's fingers trembled.
"So… I'm the same again?"
Bitterness filled his voice.
"In this body too—
the same life… the same looks… the same contempt?"
Another line appeared on the screen.
---
[Aesthetic Paradox Condition: ACTIVE]
[Core Rule: Change is possible—but never free.]
---
Krish let out a hollow laugh.
"Of course," he muttered. "Nothing comes without a price."
The screen slowly faded, dissolving into thin air as if it had never existed.
Silence returned.
But it didn't last long.
From outside the room—
voices.
Muffled at first.
Krish stiffened.
He hadn't planned to eavesdrop. He didn't even know who lived in this house yet. But when his name floated through the thin wooden walls, his body reacted on instinct.
"…that boy," a woman's voice said, sharp and irritated.
The same woman from earlier.
Krish's stepmother.
He didn't know how he knew that—
but the knowledge settled in his chest with unnatural certainty.
Another voice replied, deep and sluggish, carrying the heaviness of a man who had worked too little and drunk too much.
"Why are you always complaining about him, Meena? He's just a kid. Eats too much, sleeps too much. Like me when I was young."
She scoffed.
"A kid?"
Her tone dropped, slow and venomous.
"Do you even see how he looks at me?"
Krish's breath hitched.
Looks at her…?
"What nonsense are you talking?" the man said lazily.
Meena lowered her voice—but the walls were thin, and hatred carries far.
"That boy has dirty eyes. Always watching. Always lingering around when I'm changing rooms or working in the kitchen."
A pause.
"I feel unsafe in my own house."
Krish felt cold again.
Not the void-cold.
This was worse.
His nails dug into his palms.
"That's a serious accusation," the man said, uneasy now.
"And I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," she replied immediately.
"You know how society is. If something happens—even a rumor—who do you think they'll blame?"
Another pause, perfectly calculated.
"Me. Your wife."
The man swallowed audibly.
Krish could imagine it clearly—
his so-called father sitting on a chair, belly heavy, mind slower than his breath.
A man ruled not by reason, but fear and desire.
"I… I never noticed anything like that," he muttered.
"That's because you never notice anything," Meena snapped.
"Listen to me carefully. I'm warning you before something ugly happens."
There was a brief silence.
Then she delivered the blade.
"Send him away."
Krish's heart slammed against his ribs.
"To a hostel. A relative's house. Anywhere," she continued.
"That boy is sixteen. This age is dangerous."
Her voice softened, false concern dripping from every word.
"And look at him—no control, no discipline. Obese, frustrated… God knows what kind of thoughts are growing in his head."
Krish's vision blurred.
Not because he was crying.
Because rage was flooding his senses.
"This is… a lie," he whispered to himself.
"I didn't do anything."
But memories surfaced—
not of actions,
but of accusations.
Past life.
Same pattern.
Different faces.
The man exhaled heavily.
"…If people start talking—" he began.
"They will," Meena cut in.
"Sooner or later."
Then, softly:
"And when they do, your reputation will be ruined. Our family name dragged through filth."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
Krish felt something inside him crack.
Finally—
"Maybe… maybe it's better if he leaves for some time," the man said.
"Just until things calm down."
That was it.
No investigation.
No doubt.
No protection.
Just abandonment.
Krish leaned against the wall as his legs went weak.
"So this is the new arc," he thought bitterly.
"Same soul. Same blame. Same punishment."
And then—
[DING!]
The system reappeared, brighter than before.
---
[CRITICAL EVENT DETECTED]
[Social Execution Triggered: FALSE ACCUSATION PATH]
[Host will be exiled from home within 72 HOURS]
[OPTION AVAILABLE]
Accept Exile and Start a New Journey with System (Low resistence Route)
Rewrite Perception (High Risk Route)
[Warning: Rewrite Perception will generate irreversible consequences]
---
Krish slowly lifted his head.
His reflection stared back from the cracked mirror—
ugly, heavy, unwanted.
But his eyes…
They were no longer weak, but he was exhausted.
All he wanted was escape—escape from this life that tried to break him at every step.
"…Accept Exile," he said quietly.
Not loudly.
Not heroically.
Just firmly.
The blue text pulsed.
The blue text trembled for a moment, as if weighing his choice.
Then—
---
[OPTION SELECTED: Accept Exile]
[Route Confirmed: Low Resistance | Survival-Based Progression]
[Note: Host has chosen escape over confrontation]
[Psychological Load: EXTREME FATIGUE — ACKNOWLEDGED]
---
The light softened.
For the first time since the system appeared, it didn't feel cold.
It felt… distant.
Krish exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as if an invisible weight had finally been acknowledged.
"I'm tired," he whispered—not to the system, not to anyone else.
"Just… let me go somewhere they can't reach me."
No heroic resolve.
No dramatic vow.
Just a boy asking the universe for space to breathe.
---
Outside the room, footsteps approached.
Heavy. Uneven.
The door creaked open.
His father stood there.
Up close, the man looked older than Krish had imagined—dark circles under his eyes, a faint smell of stale alcohol clinging to his clothes. He didn't meet Krish's gaze at first.
"…Get ready," he said gruffly.
"You'll be leaving in two days."
Two days.
Not even a week.
Krish nodded.
No argument.
No tears.
That seemed to unsettle the man more than anger would have.
"You'll stay at a hostel near the industrial area," he continued.
"I'll send money when I can. Focus on studies. Don't… cause trouble."
Trouble.
As if Krish had ever caused any.
The man hesitated, then added—almost as an afterthought—
"Listen to your aunt there. And don't come back unless I call you."
The words landed like a stamp on paper.
Exiled.
The door closed again.
This time, for real.
Krish sat back on the bed.
The room felt smaller now.
Temporary.
---
[DING!]
---
[EXILE PREPARATION PHASE INITIATED]
[Starting Location Identified:
Mumbai Boys' Hostel — Sector 9 Reputation: NEUTRAL (Unknown)]
[System Support Mode: Minimal]
[Reason: Host selected Low Resistance Route]
---
"So even the system won't babysit me," Krish muttered weakly.
Another line appeared—quiet, almost gentle.
---
[This route prioritizes distance, not dominance]
[Growth will not be affected]
[Pain will be real]
[But—]
[You will survive]
---
That last line stayed longer than the rest.
Krish closed his eyes.
For the first time since waking up, his chest stopped hurting.
Survival.
That was enough.
---
Two days passed like a blur.
No confrontation.
No dramatic goodbye.
Meena avoided him entirely—
except once, when she looked at him with thinly veiled relief.
As if garbage had finally been taken out.
Krish packed what little he owned:
two worn shirts, one pair of jeans, an old notebook, and a cheap phone with a cracked screen.
When he stepped out of the house with his small bag, no one stopped him.
No one watched from the window.
The gate shut behind him with a dull clang.
---
The road stretched ahead.
Dusty. Noisy. Uncaring.
Krish stood still for a moment, sunlight falling on his face.
Sixteen.
Alone.
Unwanted.
Yet—
Free from that house.
[DING!]
---
[NEW CHAPTER UNLOCKED]
❝EXILE — THE QUIET BEGINNING❞
[Primary Objective: TRANSFORMATION
Collect: UGLY UPGRADE POINT
Build: STABILITY]
[Congratulations host:]
[You get the bonus : 50 UGLY UPGRADE POINTS]
[For bieng noticable among family members and neighbours you get: 10 UGLY UPGRADE POINTS]
---
Krish adjusted the strap of his bag and took his first step forward.
Not toward greatness.
Not toward revenge.
Just forward.
And for now—That was enough.
---