"Wh... where is this?"
"Mr. Thorne, you're finally awake."
Thorne's gaze sharpened.
On that fuzzy head, compound eyes were densely arranged, glinting coldly under the light; he could never mistake it.
"A moth? Aren't you all dead?"
The other party clearly froze for a moment, and then, an extremely human-like look of confusion appeared on that fur-covered face.
"The situation is quite serious..."
Miss Moth murmured something under her breath while quickly scribbling in the small notebook in her hand, "Hallucinations accompanied by speech disorders..."
——
"Hmm, I think I get the gist of it."
The Red Ant wearing a white coat closed the notebook and nodded slightly.
It was a large ant with distinct body segments and a shiny exoskeleton; for some reason, just standing there, it gave off an impression of being exceptionally strong and reliable.
"So, in your eyes, everyone is a bug, right?"
Thorne took a deep breath and nodded.
The moth was still standing to the side, her wings trembling slightly. He didn't know if it was just his imagination, but Thorne felt like she was laughing.
"Uh... yes."
He looked at the "doctor," his tone slightly hesitant, "For example, you look like an ant to me."
"Oh?"
The Red Ant chuckled, its two mandibles opening and closing slightly.
"Well, that's quite unexpected. I thought I would at least be a rhinoceros beetle or something."
The moth on the side couldn't help but laugh softly as well; the two bugs exchanged a look, revealing a tacit understanding.
"As for what you mentioned earlier, about some 'Kingdom of Bugs,' a palace full of chainsaws, and the claim that you were 'originally Chinese' and so on,"
The Red Ant said in a steady tone, "it can basically be determined as dream residue or delusions."
"But the situation isn't the worst yet."
He paused, "Although you see others as bugs, you don't think of yourself as one, which shows that your self-awareness is still intact."
As he spoke, he handed a document to Thorne.
Thorne looked down.
[Diagnosis: Schizophrenic disorder accompanied by delusions]
[Treatment recommendations are as follows...]
These words themselves didn't bother him too much.
What truly made his heart sink was the line of small print at the very bottom of the document.
July 31, 1991.
"So..."
Thorne muttered, "Is this not my original world?"
Hearing this, the Moth and the Red Ant glanced at each other, clearly interpreting his reaction as despair towards reality.
The Red Ant cleared his throat, his tone becoming gentle.
"Although it will have some impact on your life, we've already done a full examination for you."
"Your condition isn't a pathological injury; as long as you take your medication on time, relax, and face life positively, there's a high probability of recovery."
He seemed to recall something and added:
"There was a patient before who insisted that magic exists in this world, and that there are horses with wings and bird heads."
Thorne looked up: "And then?"
"Afterward, he recovered very well and returned to the life of a normal person."
"Oh?" Thorne was stunned, "How did he do it?"
The Red Ant rubbed his chin and thought seriously for a moment.
"Well... once at a London station, he slammed himself hard against the pillar between platforms nine and ten until his head was bloodied."
"From then on, he never suffered from the illness again."
The corner of Thorne's mouth twitched violently.
"..."
"Is that supposed to be medical advice?"
——
Walking out of the hospital and onto the bustling streets, Thorne still felt a strong sense of unreality.
This is 1990s Britain.
The streets were already filled with cars, steel and exhaust fumes formed a familiar scene of human society.
The only problem was that those driving the cars weren't humans.
Mosquitoes, grasshoppers, mantises...
Bugs of all shapes and sizes skillfully manipulated steering wheels, weaving through traffic, their compound eyes reflecting the glow of streetlights.
Thorne subconsciously clenched his fists.
He tried to mobilize his power, to call upon the important aids that once roamed the Kingdom of Bugs and dominated battlefields alongside him.
However, the only thing responding to him was an empty silence.
No feedback, no resonance.
Reality coldly told him that all of this was real.
And his power had completely vanished.
Following the information provided by the hospital, Thorne took the subway to the original "home" of this body.
The subway carriage was clean, bright, and full of modernity.
It was just that those standing and sitting around were all bugs.
Yet clear and complex human expressions constantly appeared on their faces.
Fatigue, numbness, anxiety, anticipation.
That sense of dissonance was hard to accept.
A massive sense of absurdity weighed on Thorne's heart.
He forced himself to stop looking at those bugs and instead cast his gaze out the window at the tunnel receding rapidly, beginning to organize the memories in his mind.
The original owner of this body was named Eric Thorne.
Orphan.
Long-term history of mental illness.
After this medical visit, he was almost penniless.
"...Wow, what a start."
Thorne couldn't help but give a bitter smile.
Although it was quite a bit better than waking up directly in the abyss last time, his current situation almost cut off any possibility of making a living.
He looked down at the reflection in the car window.
It was a gloomy and haggard young face.
Pale, with slightly sunken eyes and a gaze that was always wandering.
Messy hair clung to his forehead; his whole being radiated a sense of decay from long-term sleep deprivation.
A desperate financial situation, coupled with an already serious mental illness.
The original host had been pushed completely into the abyss of despair.
Even just recalling that memory, Thorne could clearly feel a loneliness that almost swallowed him whole.
So, the original host gave up on trying to survive.
No eating, no drinking, just wandering around in a daze until finally collapsing right on the street.
That's what led to the scene of waking up in the hospital.
The subway arrived at the station.
Thorne stepped off the platform, weaving through the dense swarm of insects.
He suddenly realized that his "condition" might not be that simple.
Not just his appearance.
Even the conversations of the "humans" around him had, without him noticing, turned into harsh, strange insect-like chirping.
"Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!"
"Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!"
"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"
The voices were chaotic and sharp, as if surging in from all directions.
That feeling of being shut out by the whole world made the irritation in Thorne's heart well up again.
Even though his reason told him these were all humans.
But he couldn't understand their language, couldn't see their faces clearly, even the very "form" of his existence was out of place.
It was unbearable.
Especially the sound of those mosquitoes.
It's so agonizing.
What's the difference between this and staying in Hallownest anyway?
After paying such a tragic price and giving my all to leave that place, what was even the point?
Or maybe...
Just like the doctor said—
The Kingdom of Bugs, was it actually just a dream?
Is my identity as a transmigrator just a delusion, too?
The more Thorne thought about it, the more irritable he became.
As he stood in front of his rented house, listening to the rising and falling chirps of insects all around him, he finally couldn't stand it anymore!
He needed to vent!
Under the startled gazes of bystanders, Thorne suddenly raised his arms, his voice hoarse and desperate.
"Are there still humans here?!!!!"
But, something unexpected happened!
Masses of pure white energy, with distorted outlines that seemed to be screaming, surged wildly out of his body.
"What?!"
Vision was suddenly swallowed by white light.
In the next instant—
Thorne lost consciousness.
——
Who knows how long had passed...
The familiar white ceiling came into view.
Thorne slowly opened his eyes, his vision still a bit blurry.
"...Back again?"
For a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He hadn't expected to be back in the hospital so soon; should he apologize to that Red Ant doctor?
And...
What exactly happened just now?
That mass of white stuff that surged out from inside his body flashed across his mind.
"Could it be... I can still use soul magic?"
While Thorne was thinking, he forced himself up and sat leaning against the headboard.
Just then, a voice rang out.
"You're awake, Mr. Thorne."
Thorne looked up.
Standing in front of the bed were two humans.
Oh no, to be more precise, it's two bugs.
One is a snail, its brown spiral shell reflecting a cold light, its gaze gloomy.
The other is a bee, wearing a smile; it looks quite old, but its temperament is unusually gentle.
It seems to be unwrapping a candy wrapper in its hands.
"Uh..."
Thorne cleared his throat, "Sorry, you two, I'm not really clear on the situation yet. May I ask... what happened?"
That snail snorted coldly, obviously out of patience.
"Eric Thorne, don't remember, do you?"
He used that slimy-looking tentacle to pick up a notebook, his tone cold and official:
"Using magic of mass destruction within a Muggle public area."
"Causing serious injury to one Muggle, minor injuries to three, and the collapse of a building."
"Simultaneously violating the 'Statute of Secrecy', the 'Prohibition of the Misuse of Dark Magic Act', and the 'Muggle Protection Act' currently being drafted."
"The case has been referred to the Wizengamot."
The snail closed the notebook, his gaze grim.
"I think it's just life imprisonment in Azkaban, that's all."
At this point, he paused.
"So, is there anything else you want to explain?"
"Uh..."
Hearing that long speech, Thorne rubbed his temples with a troubled look, "Well, I don't even know where to begin."
Each word popping out of their mouth was more unfamiliar than the last.
Muggle?
Azkaban?
He hadn't even heard of them before.
After a moment of silence, Thorne spoke up cautiously:
"Before I start making excuses, can I ask one thing? Where... exactly is this place?"
Snail was clearly extremely dissatisfied with him changing the subject.
"Heh."
"You mean, you don't know—"
"Dawlish."
Just then, another voice interrupted him.
That elderly Bee spoke slowly, his tone gentle and composed.
"I think you could let me talk to Mr. Thorne alone."
"After all, looking at his background, for the first half of his life he really was just a Muggle with a history of mental illness; there's no need to interrogate him as a Dark Wizard."
Snail wrinkled its eye-stalks, seemingly very dissatisfied with the proposal, but still shook its head.
"I daresay, that's just a waste of time, Dumbledore."
The moment that name was spoken.
Thorne's brow jerked up.
"Hiss..."
Why does that... sound a bit familiar?
The Bee didn't pay any mind to the Snail's muttering, but simply cast his gaze back onto Thorne.
In those deep compound eyes, there was a bit of scrutiny and a bit of interest.
"Mr. Thorne."
He said in a calm tone, "This is St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."
"The largest medical institution in the wizarding world."
Thorne froze.
His mind went blank, the bewilderment on his face completely unconcealed.
Because at that very moment.
A familiar notification sound suddenly rang out in his ear.
[Ding!]
[Special environment discovered, Exploration System activated!]
[Current special environment: St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries]
[Exploration progress: 0.3%]