A body in motion remains in motion, or a body at rest remains at rest, unless acted upon by an external force.
And that's exactly what happened. Everything in this story would have remained the same, but an external force arrived to disrupt it. That external force is me, Mike Newton.
5'11", baby face, spiky blond hair, pale blue eyes, and the personality of a golden retriever, or at least that's how Isabella Swan once described me in the original story. And, well, I'm still that Mike, but also much more. Because I'm also something webnovel readers call a transmigrator.
But instead of being replaced by a foreign soul, we sort of… fused. A whole new person came out of it: still cheerful, still annoyingly friendly, but now with a few more working brain cells and just enough self-awareness to know when to panic.
And with that fusion came the memories. Memories of the plot, the exact one that's currently unfolding right before my eyes.
The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, and the smell of disinfectant mixes with chalk dust and the wet scent of rain seeping in through the half-open window. Edward Cullen sits a few rows away, his marble-pale hand frozen on his desk, jaw clenched tight. Bella Swan has just walked in, and the air around her feels heavier somehow, like even the oxygen knows something's about to go wrong.
I watch Edward's shoulders stiffen. His eyes darken to pitch black. I know what's happening inside that beautiful, murderous head of his. And I don't fancy the slightest possibility of him following through with those thoughts, which, by the way, would involve him slaughtering everyone in this room, including yours truly.
So I do what any person with a conscience and access to vampire brain spoilers would do, or at least, that's what I tell myself.
"Hey, Edward, are you feeling well?"
The scrape of my own voice sounds too loud. He turns toward me slowly, and his dark eyes lock onto mine. The weight of that gaze nearly crushes the words in my throat. My pulse hammers so fast I swear I can hear it echoing off the lab tables.
I force myself to keep going, even as my palms start sweating. "You're looking a little pale in the face. Need me to accompany you to the infirmary?"
For a moment, no one breathes. Then something in Edward's expression flickers, a sliver of reason cutting through the hunger.
He blinks, the tension in his shoulders easing by a fraction. "You're right. I'm feeling unwell," he says, his voice tight, controlled, and still not breathing. "But there's no need to trouble yourself. I can go on my own."
Even Mr. Molina notices the tension, glancing up from his desk. "Alright, Mr. Cullen, you can leave, but be careful not to faint on the way there."
Edward mutters a quiet "thanks," and then he's gone, moving faster than anyone human should while still pretending to be normal.
The classroom exhales as the door shuts behind him. I swear the air feels lighter instantly.
Across the room, Bella looks dazed, chewing her bottom lip. Her brow furrows in confusion, probably thinking she's the reason for that hostile stare and the dramatic breath-holding. At least now, she seems comforted by the excuse that he was "unwell."
As for me? I won't lie. I almost pissed myself when he looked at me. Vampires in person are terrifying. That predatory stillness, that unnatural beauty, it doesn't translate through a screen or a book page. It's something that hits you in the chest and crawls up your spine.
And speaking of beauty, Edward really is inhumanly good-looking. His skin catches the weak classroom light like polished marble, and even sweating bullets, I can't help but feel a twinge of envy. I'm fairly good looking, sure, but there's no competing with a supernatural creature literally designed to lure prey.
…
The bell rings, sharp and shrill, slicing through my thoughts. The classroom erupts into the familiar chaos of scraping chairs and shuffling feet. The smell of teenage perfume and wet sneakers fills the air as students pour out into the hallway.
I'm still replaying Edward's near-meltdown in my mind when I notice her, Bella, still frozen at her desk. She's staring at the empty chair Edward left behind, her expression tight with confusion and something like embarrassment.
I hesitate, then lean over. "Hey, Bella, you good? You've been staring at that chair like it owes you money."
She blinks, startled, and looks up. Her doe eyes are soft brown, wide and uncertain. A faint blush colors her cheeks. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I just…" She bites her lip, glances toward the door again. "Did I, uh, do I smell bad or something?"
For a second, I just stare. Hearing that line in person instead of on a page hits harder. She's genuinely worried.
I raise both hands quickly. "No, no, nothing like that! Trust me, you smell totally normal. Like… shampoo and maybe pine air freshener." (Okay, smooth, Mike. Real smooth.)
She lets out a nervous laugh, the sound small and shaky, but her eyes still search mine. "He just looked at me like…" She hesitates. "Like I'd done something awful."
"Edward's just… complicated," I say, choosing my words carefully, trying not to sound like I'm covering for a would-be murderer. "Probably just not feeling great. You saw how pale he was."
That seems to ease her mind. She nods, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Maybe. He looked sick."
"Exactly," I grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Probably caught, uh, vampire flu or something."
This time she actually laughs, the tension finally breaking. Most of the class has already cleared out, leaving only the soft hum of the projector and the faint patter of rain against the window. Bella slings her bag over her shoulder and gives me a small, grateful smile.
"He really does look like a vampire, doesn't he?" she says, tightening her grip on the strap of her bag. "Thanks, Mike."
"No problem," I say, shrugging casually. "Anytime you need someone to decode weird male behavior, I'm your guy."
She rolls her eyes but smiles as she walks out. The door swings shut behind her with a quiet click, and suddenly the room feels bigger, emptier.
I let out a slow breath I didn't realize I was holding and sink into my chair. My heartbeat's finally returning to normal. The faint smell of rain and wet earth drifts through the open window, soft and cool against the leftover heat of tension still clinging to the room.
And that's when it hits me.
I changed part of the plot.
Edward didn't look back at her before leaving. Bella's not spiraling over what she did wrong. The timeline has already veered off course, and I have no idea where it's heading.
Newton's First Law: a body in motion stays in motion.
I guess I'm the external force now.
…