Dorian awoke with a jolt, his senses assaulted by a disorienting rush of sensations. Confusion clouded his mind as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

‘Why is this dream so vivid?’

‘Oh shit.’ Panic set in as he found himself floating in the turbulent current of a chaotic river, hurtling towards an ominous cascade of rocks.

Frantically, Dorian pushed off against the jagged rocks that loomed in his path, desperately seeking control. The water's violent embrace threatened to consume him, but with each desperate thrust, he managed to steer clear of immediate disaster. Gradually, his instincts took hold, guiding him through the tumultuous currents until he could finally see the safety of the riverbank.

Gasping for breath, he dragged his weary body onto solid ground. The impact sent shivers of pain coursing through him, and his head throbbed with a relentless ache. Clutching at his temples, he attempted to soothe the tumultuous storm within his mind.

‘Why do my limbs feel awkward?’ Blinking rapidly, Dorian examined his physical state, as he realized that he was no longer in his own body.

‘This is too real to be a dream. There’s only one other conclusion’

‘I have transmigrated.’

As the pounding in his head slowly receded, Dorian surveyed his surroundings. The night sky stretched above, painted with countless stars that glimmered like distant dreams.

Exhausted and disoriented, Dorian sank onto the shore.

"I can't get rest even in my sleep!" he smiled bitterly, the weight of the situation crashing upon him with each passing moment. Panic clawed at his chest as he grappled with the implications of his newfound existence.

With his heart pounding in his ears, Dorian pieced together the fragments of his current predicament. He had awakened in a body that did not belong to him, plunged into a river's chaotic embrace, and fought against the odds to regain control. The tumultuous journey had brought him face-to-face with the harsh reality of his transmigration.

Fear and uncertainty gnawed at his thoughts, threatening to consume him whole. Questions tumbled through his mind, demanding answers he was ill-prepared to provide. What had happened to his original body? Who or what had orchestrated this bizarre twist of fate?

‘I need to relax.’ With a deep breath, Dorian forced himself to focus. The immediate danger had passed, but he needed to gather his wits and make sense of this new reality.

’It seems the original inhabitant of this body was also called Dorian. Based on his memories, there’s an abandoned shack by the edge of the forest he used to go to occasionally. Let’s go there first and reset.’

‘If I didn’t almost get beat to death by some rocks, maybe I would have been a little more excited about this.’

With a renewed sense of purpose, Dorian decided to walk upstream in search of the abandoned shack mentioned in the memories of the body he now occupied. As he walked, he couldn't help but laugh ironically at the situation.

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‘At least I don’t have to do that math final anymore.’The looming final exam that had been a source of stress and anxiety was now completely irrelevant. Fate had handed him an unexpected reprieve, albeit in the form of a transmigration.

As he journeyed along the riverbank, memories of his family flashed through Dorian's mind. He had been an only child, raised by loving parents who had always supported his dreams. The thought of his parents and their worry for his sudden disappearance caused a pang of guilt to wash over him.

‘No use worrying about that now. I’ll figure out a way to get back later.’

‘Why do I not feel as tired anymore?’ Despite the lingering headache and the residual disorientation, Dorian noticed a gradual improvement in his physical condition. It was almost as if his body was recovering at an accelerated pace. A sense of energy surged within him, prompting him to test his newfound abilities. He decided to start with a light jog, curious to gauge the extent of his physical prowess in this unfamiliar form.

’These limbs are too long; I still feel a little awkward moving’

‘Let’s speed up a little bit.’

Dorian continued his jog, gradually increasing his pace. With each stride, Dorian marveled at the ease with which he adapted to the body's movements.

However, as he continued to push himself, the strain began to take its toll. He realized that he couldn't sustain the faster pace for long, and a wave of fatigue washed over him.

‘I guess I can’t go faster if I want to keep a constant pace. I shouldn’t be too disappointed. This body possesses the strength, stamina, and agility of what can be compared to top basketball athletes in my previous life despite this Dorian fellow growing up on terrible food and never working out before.’

As Dorian continued his jog upstream along the riverbank, his attention was drawn to a small shack in the distance. The river path guided him closer to his destination, the silhouette of the shack becoming more defined against the night sky.

Approaching closer, he could see the shack's weathered exterior, showing signs of neglect and the passage of time. The paint was faded and peeling, revealing layers of different colors beneath. The windows were cracked and dirty, making it obvious that the shack had been abandoned for quite some time.

‘Finally,’ he arrived at the weathered door of the abandoned shack. As he arrived at the entrance, Dorian noticed the door slightly ajar, as if inviting him to enter. Pushing it open, he was greeted by a musty scent and the faint sound of wind rustling through cracked windows. The walls were rough and weathered, their paint chipped and peeling. Dust and cobwebs clung to the corners, evidence of the long period of disuse.

The room was dimly lit, with only a few rays of sunlight seeping through cracks in the wooden walls. The air smelled musty, tinged with the scent of decaying wood and dampness. The floorboards creaked under Dorian's weight as he cautiously explored the space.

Scant furnishings occupied the room, their worn appearance matching the general state of disrepair. A rickety wooden chair stood in one corner, its seat covered in a layer of dust. The fabric was faded and frayed, with patches of discoloration. A small table stood nearby, its surface marred with scratches and stains.

In the center of the room, an old bed sagged under the weight of time. The metal frame showed signs of rust, and the mattress had lost its original shape, sinking in the middle. The bedding was worn and faded, its colors muted and dull. Dorian could see the indentations where countless bodies had once found rest.

Dorian's grim gaze swept over the room, taking in the worn walls, the dusty corners, and the tired furnishings. It was a stark reminder of the isolation and solitude that awaited him in this new reality.

‘Beggars can’t be choosers. It is what it is.’ With a sigh, he realized that this shack would become his temporary sanctuary, a place where he could rest and gather his thoughts before facing the uncertainties that lay ahead.

Collapsing onto the bed, Dorian let out a heavy sigh, feeling the worn and lumpy mattress yield beneath his weight. The creaking of the metal frame echoed through the small space as Dorian closed his eyes, surrendering to the weariness and drifting off into a deep and dreamless sleep.