Chapter 1 — The Plot Begins
Sheldon and Leonard trudged up the apartment stairwell, their footsteps heavy.
One was a PhD in theoretical physics, the other a PhD in experimental physics. They'd always been confident in their IQs—confident enough to stroll into a sperm bank and decide to donate.
Then they reached the paperwork.
And immediately regretted it.
"Are you still mad about the sperm bank?" Sheldon finally broke the silence.
Leonard was still sulking. "No."
Sheldon continued, as if he hadn't heard the tone. "Would you like to hear an interesting fact about stairs?"
Leonard stared ahead. "…Not really."
Sheldon pressed on anyway. "Even if the height of a single step is off by just two millimeters, most people will trip."
"I don't care!" Leonard snapped.
…
A few steps later, Leonard couldn't help himself.
"Two millimeters? That doesn't sound possible."
"No, it's true," Sheldon said earnestly. "When I was twelve, I conducted a series of experiments. My father even fractured his clavicle."
Leonard blinked. "Is that why they sent you to boarding school?"
"No," Sheldon replied without a hint of emotion. "That was because of my laser experiments."
At long last, they reached the fourth floor. Leonard pulled out his key and opened the door—only to see the door across the hall swing open as well.
A blonde bombshell with a killer figure was inside, unpacking boxes.
Leonard's eyes widened. "New neighbor?"
Sheldon barely glanced over. "Obviously."
Leonard swallowed hard. "A significant upgrade compared to the last one."
"You mean the two-hundred-pound cross-dresser with eczema?" Sheldon pondered for a moment. "Yes. She's much better."
Sheldon felt nothing in particular. To him, women simply couldn't compete with Star Wars or The Flash.
"Hi! I'm Leonard, and this is Sheldon. We're your neighbors."
"Hi! I'm Penny. I just moved in."
Penny smiled brightly, silently judging them.
These two look like socially awkward nerds… pretty harmless.
Just then, the door to the opposite apartment pushed open again—and a young man stepped out.
He was tall and lean, moving with calm confidence. He wore a sharply tailored gray suit; the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a faint line of collarbone. His light-brown hair was neatly cut and casually swept to the side.
"Sheldon? Leonard?" The young man looked mildly puzzled. "You two just got back from the sperm bank?"
"Ah—" Leonard immediately jumped in to cut him off. "Ethan! Why are you still here? Don't you have patients to see?"
"Mhm." Ethan smiled, his gaze drifting casually to the dazed Penny. In an instant, he seemed to understand everything. "Our new neighbor?"
He stepped forward politely. "Hello. I'm Ethan Rayne."
It took Penny several seconds to snap out of it.
Still smiling brightly, she reached out and shook his hand—shaking it a little too enthusiastically, as though she wasn't just greeting him but confirming he was real.
"Hi, I'm Penny. And you are…?"
"Ethan Rayne," he repeated, returning the handshake with perfect courtesy and restraint.
Penny felt something strange about his hand.
It wasn't hot, and it wasn't cold—yet it carried a gentle warmth, as if wrapped in some soft, comforting force. It felt… good.
And the instant their hands met, Penny suddenly felt a faint warmth bloom in her chest, her breathing becoming smoother, lighter.
She assumed it was just her imagination.
She had no idea that in that split second, Ethan's fingertip twitched ever so slightly—
a pale, nearly invisible white gleam flickered in the air, quietly soothing the shoulder she'd strained last night while moving.
"You're a doctor?" Penny asked.
"Sort of." Ethan smiled. "I run a small clinic. Mostly I help patients regular hospitals don't want to treat."
As he spoke, he glanced at Penny's hand still clinging to his with faint discomfort.
"Hm? Oh—oh~~~" Penny finally realized she was still holding his hand. She quickly pulled back, attempting to look dignified again.
Beside them, Sheldon raised an eyebrow.
"When you say 'don't want to treat,' do you mean rare diseases, psychosomatic conditions, or pseudoscience that hasn't been verified by mainstream scientific consensus?"
Ethan kept smiling. "None of those."
He paused, his voice gentle.
"Sometimes, before the body gets sick… the soul has already gone wrong."
Sheldon frowned. "Are you… a soul doctor?"
Leonard hurriedly cut in, eager to stop this conversation from derailing into insanity.
"We should go inside and clean up. We'll talk later—talk later!"
"Alright." Ethan nodded. "Leonard, Sheldon—I'll head out first."
With that, he turned and quickly went down the stairs.
Penny watched him leave, her heart racing as she muttered under her breath:
"In this building… there's actually a doctor that handsome?"
Leonard saw the lovestruck expression on her face and immediately felt crushed. He leaned toward Sheldon and whispered miserably.
"If Ethan lives here, we might never find girlfriends again."
Sheldon looked completely unconcerned.
"From a biological perspective, he does have a superior reproductive advantage."
Leonard let out a tired sigh. "Sheldon… please don't use the word reproductive."
Only after Ethan's footsteps disappeared did Penny finally exhale a long breath.
"Wow…" she whispered. "Your roommate is… ridiculously handsome."
Leonard instinctively corrected her. "Technically, he's not our roommate. We're just sharing rent—"
Sheldon immediately stabbed him in the back.
"More technically, he rents the unit next door. He simply knocked through the wall for convenient sharing."
Penny laughed. "Isn't that basically a roommate?"
Sheldon replied seriously, "No. He exists in a state between 'roommate' and 'neighbor.' I define it as: a boundary-blurred cohabitation entity."
Leonard stared at him in defeat. "Sheldon. Nobody wants your sociology lecture."
Penny leaned casually against the doorframe, still replaying Ethan's face in her mind.
"He doesn't look like a normal doctor," she said with a blink. "More like the type who… knows hypnosis, psychology, and can prescribe meds on the side. The mysterious kind."
Sheldon nodded gravely. "I noticed that as well. He claims he can treat people whose 'souls are damaged'—an invalid proposition in modern medicine. Unless he's studying quantum entanglement of consciousness."
"Quan—what?" Penny looked lost.
Leonard quickly translated. "Ignore him. He means Ethan seems a little… supernatural."
Penny chuckled. "Then why would he move here? This building is so old even the elevator gave up."
Sheldon answered instantly. "Financial reasons are not the primary contradiction."
Leonard blinked. "You actually know dialectics?"
Sheldon ignored him and continued his analysis.
"Ethan claims he wants to 'stay close to people,' which indicates a highly abnormal clinical sampling strategy. A normal physician would live near a hospital—not in an apartment complex where the average IQ is lower than a California state prison."
Leonard couldn't help arguing. "Maybe he just likes quiet."
Sheldon replied coldly. "Then he should move into a library."
Penny laughed at their bickering.
"Maybe he's trying to save money? Doctors sound rich, but a private clinic isn't easy when you're just starting out."
Leonard nodded. "He did mention the clinic's been open less than a month. Mostly he takes complicated cases—hard-to-cure diseases other people won't touch."
"Then he must be really skilled." Penny's eyes sparkled.
Sheldon dismissed it. "Or the patients happened to recover naturally. Statistics tells us: out of every ten thousand self-recoveries, one will be mistakenly labeled a 'miracle.'"
…
Ethan stepped onto the street, looked around, and hailed a cab.
A taxi soon pulled up.
Ethan got in and casually said, "Rayne Clinic. Corner of Seventh Avenue and Hudson Street."
The driver glanced back. "There's a clinic there?"
Ethan smiled. "Yes. A small one. Just opened."
The driver shrugged, put the car in gear, and slowly drove off.
Outside the window, the city blurred by. Ethan leaned back in the seat, unconsciously rubbing the silver ring on his finger.
In his mind, he replayed the sight of their new neighbor—beautiful, sexy, impossible to ignore.
"So…" he murmured softly. "Does this count as the story finally beginning?"
Ever since he'd been reborn here twenty years ago, Ethan had noticed countless differences from his original world.
As a child, his neighbor's last name was Cooper—
and there was a supergenius kid named Sheldon.
In high school, his chemistry teacher was named Walter White.
And there was even an underclassman named Peter Parker.
What real world was this?
This was clearly a bizarre merged dimension of American TV dramas and Hollywood movies.
The discovery filled Ethan with equal parts depression and anxiety.
Depression—because it meant he probably couldn't go back.
The upside? No mortgage. No car loans.
The anxiety? He didn't have some overpowered "system" like most transmigrators…
But he did have abilities no ordinary human should possess.
Before crossing over, Ethan had been raiding in World of Warcraft.
Right before the final wipe—on the very last second—his priest character was casting Prayer of Healing…
Then the screen flickered.
PA—!
Sparks exploded from the monitor, and his consciousness was yanked away by some unknown force.
When he opened his eyes again, he had become Ethan Rayne.
For years, he believed he was completely normal—until one day, when he reached out to save a pedestrian injured in a traffic accident.
White light surged from his palm… and the bleeding stopped instantly.
—Heal.
That was the moment he understood.
He hadn't just crossed worlds.
He had brought his priest skills with him.
"Heal… Renew… Power Word: Shield… Dispel Magic… Fade…" Ethan murmured.
"And even the most broken skill of all—Mass Resurrection. Though I've never dared try it."
It was an indescribably strange sensation.
Not faith. Not energy.
More like… a resonance flowing through the air itself.
"If Sheldon and Leonard knew I'm literally a priest…" Ethan sighed, staring out at the passing streetlights, his eyes reflecting complicated emotions.
"…Would they still ask me to tank in raids?"
"Sir, we're here."
The driver's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Ethan came back to himself, took out his wallet, and handed over fifty dollars.
"Thanks."
He pushed open the door and stepped out.
A dim neon sign flickered at the street corner. Ahead stood a two-story old brick building.
On the brass plaque by the door, a line of text was engraved:
Rayne Clinic — Healing Beyond Medicine
"Rayne Clinic… healing beyond medicine."
Ethan looked up at the old wooden door, took a deep breath, and smiled faintly.
"Alright then."
"A little pastor's daily life… begins."
He gently pushed the door open and walked inside.