My last memory was a masterclass in clichés: a breakup, a dramatic monologue, and a piece of abstract art with a killer sense of irony.
Now, it was moonlight, a distinct chill, and a building so grand it seemed to sneer at its surroundings. Really, though, I was the one out of place.
I pushed myself up. The building loomed ahead: tall spires, glowing lanterns drifting on invisible threads — the kind of view people put in recruitment brochures.
Definitely not the kind of place someone like me should wake up.
My hands caught my attention next: slim fingers, neat nails — too clean, too elegant.
Not mine.
I glanced at a polished metal panel beside the massive entrance door. A stranger stared back—sharp jaw, messy red hair, and eyes straight out of a shoujo adaptation. I blinked. The reflection blinked too. Great. At least we were in mutual agreement about the confusion.
My head throbbed, and a lifetime of memories that weren't mine crashed into the space where my own should have been. Names, faces, and feelings, all shoved into my skull like data.
Einz Velden.
Second-year. Aurelia Magic Academy. Talent for magical resonance: basically zero. Current housing status: "Unfortunately, all dorms are at full capacity," which was polite corporate-speak for "get lost."
I stared at my hands again, then back at the tragically handsome face in the reflection. I was wearing someone else's life.
Of all the literary tragedies, of all the dramatic isekai where the hero comes back as a demigod, of course I get the role of the incompetent pretty boy. Perfect.
Beside the dorm door sat two bags: one battered backpack and one canvas duffel, both stamped with an E. Velden tag. With a sigh that felt far too old for this new body, I dragged them to the nearest bench.
I slumped beside them and listened to the courtyard breathe. Somewhere beyond the hedges, an owl complained. The world stayed politely silent while I had my crisis.
The new memories kept sorting themselves. Here, a person's worth was measured by their 'resonance'—a fancy term for how well you could vibe with the world's elements and make it do pretty things. Einz Velden, apparently, couldn't even vibe well with his innate element. Hence the "limited housing" and the bags. Hence my new life starting on a bench with a chill I hadn't signed up for.
I should have panicked. Instead, I just felt tired. The specific kind of tired that comes from watching the same movie too many times and realizing the plot was written by bored interns.
"Okay," I said to the quiet. "New body. New humiliation. Same me."
I stared up at the glowing dorm, a silent monolith of futures I wasn't invited to. A stupid death for a stupid life. The math checked out.
I opened the duffel out of reflex. Clothes, a couple of books with chewed-off corners, and a map that smelled faintly of incense and bad decisions. I closed it, lay down across the bench using the backpack as a lumpy pillow, and decided to sort it out in the morning.
I slept like someone who'd spent too many nights awake worrying in the wrong world.
I woke to footsteps and the hushed, judgmental tones of teenagers.
"Is he okay?" someone whispered.
"Why's he sleeping out here?" another asked, with the kind of morbid curiosity usually reserved for roadkill.
I cracked an eye open. A few students were slowing on the courtyard path, giving me pitying looks before hurrying on.
I palmed my face and sighed. "Fantastic. I get reincarnated just to deal with teenagers all over again."
The air smelled faintly of bread and dew. A small cleaning golem rolled past, its metal limbs whirring as it polished the tiles. I watched it go, half impressed, half unsettled. Somewhere inside the dorm, a bell rang for breakfast, and the day began without me.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to chase off the last of sleep. My mind went back to the glowing text I'd seen before everything went dark—Affection.exe. Then something tugged, subtle but insistent, like a thought I hadn't finished thinking. Light flickered in front of me, words forming in the air.
[System Reboot Complete]
Welcome, User: Einz Velden.
Affection.exe
I stared at it for a long second. "Right. So that was real. Great."
The text blinked, polite and clinical and somehow gloating.
Primary Function: Converts emotional resonance directed at the user into Resonance Power (RP).
Status: 1 RP detected.
Host Aptitude: Low innate resonance.
I read it twice. Then I laughed — short, humorless, like someone choking on irony.
The hologram blinked out, leaving nothing but cold morning light. The courtyard still alive with futures that didn't have my name on them.
For a while, I just sat there, watching the horizon bleed pale gold into the clouds. The air bit at my fingers; it felt like the world's way of reminding me I was still here. I let out a long breath that might've been a laugh.
"Emotions, huh?" I murmured. "Not exactly my strongest subject."
A slow grin tugged at my mouth — the kind you wear when you've just found a loophole in the terms and conditions. "Well," I said, pushing myself up, "if affection is the game, I might as well play to my strengths… and cheat it."