Chapter 1 — Signs of Awakening
Year 2006.
McAllen Town, New York State.
McAllen was a quiet, unremarkable town tucked away in upstate New York. Its population was small enough that nearly everyone knew one another by name. Neighbors greeted each other on the street, gossip traveled faster than the mail, and even at night, most doors remained unlocked. Crime was rare, and life moved at an unhurried pace.
In the southwestern corner of the town stood a modest two-story house surrounded by farmland. It belonged to the Jones family—a household of three.
Richard Jones was the backbone of the family, a sturdy man hardened by years of labor. His wife worked long shifts at a nearby supermarket; she was gentle, patient, and capable in her own quiet way. Their son, Ivan Jones, had just turned fourteen and recently graduated from junior high school.
That morning, Ivan stood inside the barn, pouring feed into the troughs for dozens of dairy cows. The animals lowed softly as they ate, their breath fogging the cool air.
The Jones family made their living through livestock farming.
Normally, his parents wouldn't allow Ivan to handle this kind of work. His health had always been frail, and they preferred he devote his time entirely to studying. But with his father away on business and Ivan now officially finished with junior high, the responsibility had temporarily fallen to him.
"Looks like I'll be a ranch owner someday," Ivan muttered as he wiped his hands on his jeans. "This town's pretty remote. If I never go to a big city… it might not be so bad."
Despite his age, Ivan often thought in ways far beyond a typical teenager. He viewed the world with a quiet sense of distance—almost reverence.
After all, he wasn't just a normal boy.
He was a transmigrator.
And over the years, through subtle but undeniable signs, Ivan had come to realize something unsettling: this world might not be as peaceful as it appeared.
Fourteen years had passed since his rebirth. The fear and confusion of infancy had long since faded, replaced by calm acceptance. It felt like restarting life from the beginning—elementary school, junior high, all over again.
The only differences were the unfamiliar culture, the foreign land, and his own physical condition.
When he thought back to his previous life—lying weak and helpless in an intensive care unit, surrounded by machines and sterile white walls—it all felt unreal, like a distant dream.
Fortunately, this life was different.
His parents cared for him deeply, shielding him from hardship whenever they could. Each day passed peacefully, filled with simple happiness.
A breeze swept through the barn, stirring fallen leaves across the floor. The wooden beams creaked softly above him. Everything felt natural. Ordinary. Calm.
"Breakfast's probably cold by now."
Ivan actually preferred it that way. He disliked food that was too hot, so he'd intentionally left his breakfast sitting inside the house.
Reaching for the barn's wooden door, he was about to push it open—
Before his hand even touched it, the door swung outward on its own.
A light breeze passed through.
Ivan froze for a moment.
The door was old and warped, usually jammed so tightly that it took real effort to open. There was no way a gentle breeze should have been enough.
"…Guess it's acting up again," he muttered with a helpless shake of his head.
He'd long since grown accustomed to these small, irrational occurrences. Things like this happened around him far too often to be coincidence.
Back inside the house, Ivan sat alone at the dining table, drinking warm milk and eating biscuits in silence. There was still plenty of work to do today.
"I'll be starting high school soon," he thought. "Hopefully… everything stays peaceful."
Around noon, the sound of keys turning in the front door broke the quiet.
"Hey, kid! Come take a look at what I brought back for you!"
Ivan immediately turned off the television and stepped out of the inner room, his face lighting up.
"Dad, what is it?" he asked with a genuine smile.
Every time his father said those words, it meant he'd brought something Ivan liked.
Richard Jones stood in the doorway, but this time, his right hand rested on the shoulder of a girl Ivan had never seen before.
"This is Jessica," Richard said. "She's the daughter of an old friend. Due to… some accidents, she'll be living with us from now on. Treat her like your younger sister."
"H-hello," the girl said softly.
She had delicate features, jet-black hair, and clear black eyes. There was something quietly familiar about her—perhaps the calmness, perhaps the reserved expression.
She looked about Ivan's age.
"…Hello, Jessica," Ivan replied after a brief pause.
"She's fourteen too," Richard added. "If things work out, I'll enroll you both in the same high school. That way, you can look out for each other. Come on, Jessica—I'll show you your room."
As he led her upstairs, Richard suddenly turned back.
"Oh, right. How were the livestock today?"
"All good. I fed them," Ivan nodded.
"Collected the eggs? Didn't startle the hens, did you?"
"Everything was handled properly."
"That's my boy." Richard winked.
By evening, dark clouds had gathered, and a light rain began to fall. Ivan's mother, Jenny, returned from her supermarket shift not long after.
"Jenny! You didn't get soaked, did you?" Richard called from the kitchen, wearing an apron and holding a spatula.
"No, dear." She slipped off her shoes and immediately asked, "Is Jessica here? You brought her back, right?"
Ivan realized then that he'd been the only one kept in the dark about their new family member.
"She's here," Richard replied. "A little down, but otherwise fine."
"That's understandable," Jenny said gently. "Make sure you talk to her more while I'm at work, alright?"
"I know."
Jenny stepped into the living room, smiling brightly as she opened her purse.
"Ivan, look what I brought you—chocolate bars." After entering the living room, Jenny's first act was to smile and take out six chocolate bars from her purse, handing them to Ivan.
She brought him treats every day after work at the supermarket.
Smiling at him, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Share some with Jessica."
"Okay, Mom."
Even if she hadn't said anything, Ivan wouldn't have kept them all for himself.
The rain outside grew heavier as Ivan grabbed the chocolate bars and went upstairs.
There were two rooms on the second floor—his own, and another with the door shut. Jessica was probably inside.
Knock, knock.
He knocked twice.
"Jessica, it's almost dinner."
"Mmm," came a response from inside, but the door didn't open.
"Uh, could you open the door?"
The door was locked. Ivan looked at the chocolate bars in his hand as he asked.
But there was no reply from inside the room.
This girl—who had only become his "sister" today—must have experienced some misfortune that forced her to stay here.
Whatever it was, it must have left a psychological impact on her. Could she… do something reckless because of it?
As that thought crossed his mind, Ivan's heart skipped—and the door suddenly opened.
Inside the room, Jessica sat on the bed, wearing only her underclothes, clutching the blanket tightly.
"Uh… want some chocolate bars?" Ivan gestured with the bars in his hand.
"Y-you… did you open it with a key?" Jessica asked timidly. She had clearly locked the door from the inside.
"Um, it's time for dinner."
"I—I don't feel well. I don't want to eat dinner," Jessica said.
"Then have a few of these," Ivan said, tossing four chocolate bars.
The four bars traced a perfect arc through the air and landed precisely in Jessica's right hand.
Jessica was startled. Ivan's throw was far too accurate—almost as if some unseen force guided the chocolate bars straight into her palm.
"Thank you," Jessica said.
"My name's Ivan," he said with a bright, energetic smile. "Don't be shy. Just treat this place as your own home."
Ivan went back downstairs. Richard and Jenny had already finished in the kitchen, and the dining table was filled with a hearty dinner.
"Where's Jessica? She's not coming down?" Jenny asked gently.
"She said she doesn't feel well and doesn't want to eat," Ivan answered honestly.
"That child… skipping dinner is bad for her health. I'll go call her," Jenny said as she headed upstairs.
The rain outside was pouring harder now. Remembering something, Ivan pushed open the door and went out to cover the old motorcycle with a transparent tarp.
He grabbed the tarp and ran over, draping it over the motorcycle.
The rain fell in torrents—yet it was as if it deliberately avoided Ivan. Not a single drop touched him.