The ideas of reincarnation and transmigration were not new to Majong. As one of the most influential figures the Netherlands had ever known, he had seen many strange and extraordinary powers that went against common logic. He encountered abilities that challenged fate, played with life and death, and caused chaos in ways that defied reason. Even his own powers, which focused on manipulating Fate, were unpredictable and often led to unexpected results.
So when the fog of confusion cleared and he realized he had been reborn in a different body, he was less surprised than most people would be. In fact, it felt almost ordinary to him. Compared to his past experiences with life cycles and fate, finding himself in the weak and sickly body of a boy wasn't even the most unusual twist of destiny he had faced.
His gaze returned to the reflective flower vase across the room, locking onto the unfamiliar face staring back at him. It was a boy's face—thin and gaunt, with sallow skin and a mop of messy dark hair. His blue eyes held the purity of innocence.
After a moment of staring, Majong came to terms with his current predicament. Now that the confusion had settled, he forced himself to think clearly.
"Alright, first things first," he thought, pushing his hand against the bed for support. "Where am I?" This was his most pressing concern.
He needed to figure out if he had been reincarnated in his own world or a completely new one. If it were his original world, he could reclaim his powerful status and the favors he had earned over the years. But if he had ended up in an unfamiliar place, without anyone to help him, he would be in serious trouble. It would mean being in a strange body, alone, and without the strength of his former legacy.
His mind raced through countless daunting possibilities. For now, however, he had no choice but to take things one step at a time. Another pressing issue was his body; it was very weak. He could feel the vulnerability coursing through his limbs, making him painfully aware of his limitations. He even wondered what had driven this kid to attempt an Ascension ritual.
"With a build like this, I'm surprised his body didn't outright crumble in the midst of the ritual," he thought.
"Just who the hell are you, kid?" Majong mused, feeling dazed. Unfortunately, his reincarnation or transmigration did not come with the memories of this body's past. He had no access to this life's experiences, and there was no easy shortcut to understanding his new situation. He would have to gather information the old-fashioned way.
With a resigned sigh, Majong steeled himself; he needed to move. He couldn't lie in bed forever. Slowly, he forced his weakened body to stand, using the bed for balance. His legs wobbled beneath him like a newborn colt, and his vision blurred as he swayed slightly.
"Damn, this body is pathetic," he thought bitterly. He shifted his weight to take a step, but his legs gave way beneath him, and he crashed to the floor with a harsh thud. The room echoed with the sound of his fall, and a sharp groan escaped his lips. 'This is humiliating,' he thought as pain coursed through his body.
A second later, he picked himself up. There was a lingering stiffness in his joints, and because of it, he staggered toward the door in front of him. His head throbbed again as the world around him seemed to tilt, but he forced himself onward. He reached for the door handle; his fingers curled around it with surprising lack of strength. The door creaked open.
Beyond it lay a large corridor, dimly lit by a few lights. He couldn't tell if it was the place that made him feel claustrophobic or if it was the weight of uncertainty pressing in on him. Either way, it felt like the walls were closing in. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and stepped out into the hall.
As he hobbled down the corridor, trying to get his bearings, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps echoing in the distance. Majong turned toward the source of the sound and noticed two boys around the same age as his current identity. One of the boys was large and broad-shouldered, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a cruel grin. The other was average height for a fifteen-year-old, with curly dark hair and blue eyes.
'Blue eyes,' Majong noted as a striking detail about the two kids. The tall boy stepped towards Majong, sizing him up and sneering in the process.
"Hey, look who's up! The sickly boy finally got out of bed!"
Majong narrowed his eyes at the two kids, his thoughts racing. 'Enemies?' This was the first thought that popped into his head.
"No that's not it..."
Before he could think further, one of the boys spoke up.
"Hey, I heard you tried to end your life. What was it again? Oh right, they said you tried to mate with a rat!"
With that, both boys erupted into laughter.
Majong was momentarily stunned before finally grasping what was going on here.
He was being bullied.
The realization struck him as absurd, causing him to burst into laughter himself.
"Hahaha!"
His laugh rang through the hallway, making the two boys stop for a second.
Finally, the tall boy looked at him with scorn.
"Looks like that weird ritual has finally messed you up," he sneered. "Now you've completely lost it."
Tsk...
"It's almost impressive how pathetic you are."
"Hahahahaha!"
Majong's laughter filled the room again.
Eventually, the other boy, who was wiry and of average height, shot him a look of irritation.
"Care to explain what's so funny, jerk?"
Majong's laughter began to fade, but he finally replied, "Oh, I just found your attempts at bullying hilarious! I've never been treated like this before, so it genuinely caught me off guard."
The boys were taken aback, unable to believe that this was the same cousin they'd always picked on—someone who never dared to stand up to them before.
The taller boy recovered first, his expression shifting to anger as he glared at Majong.
"How dare you talk to me like that?"
The other boy, a beat behind, followed his lead with even more exaggerated anger.
"Yeah, know your place, loser!"
Majong's gaze sharpened, a dangerous edge in his voice.
"Your attitude was funny at first, but now you're seriously getting on my nerves."
"What did you just say?" the tall boy asked, approaching Majong and rolling up his sleeves.
Instead of repeating himself, Majong decided to act. He charged at the boy, intending to throw a punch, but he quickly realized he had either forgotten his strength or overestimated his ability.
As he swung his fist, the tall boy easily dodged, countering with a hard blow to Majong's chest. The impact echoed in the hall. Before Majong could recover, the tall boy grabbed his wrist and twisted it effortlessly.
Majong stumbled, and before he could regain his balance, he felt the boy's knee slam into his gut.
"Useless," the boy spat, pushing Majong back onto the cold stone floor.
Majong hit the ground hard, pain shooting through his chest. He tried to push himself up, but his body wouldn't listen. The strength he once had seemed to vanish in this weakened state.
"Come on," the tall boy taunted, his voice icy. "Did you really think you could fight back? You're just a sickly kid pretending to be tough. No matter how much you dream, things will never change."
The wiry boy, watching from the side, chuckled and moved closer, crouching down to sneer at Majong. "Maybe we should give him some credit, huh? At least he tried. But honestly, why bother? You're the laughingstock of the Majong family..."
Majong, feeling a mix of frustration and humiliation, suddenly froze when he heard the last words.
"Majong… what?"