Shane had initially shoved that box of noodles under his bed, carefully covering it with dirty laundry.
His plan was simple: hide the stash.
Because any rational person—especially a transmigrator—knows you don't just whip out your mysterious system items and share them with everyone five minutes after spawning in.
But reality? He'd "naturally" brought up just enough for the whole family. And when Carl asked for noodles during the day, he'd casually admitted he had a secret stash downstairs.
The whole process had been so smooth, so automatic. It felt like... duty.
Like when the family needs something, you provide what you have. That was the instinct.
Now that he'd calmed down, Shane realized how completely out of character that was for his usual cautious self.
"So, this isn't just a simple soul swap or body snatch..."
Shane analyzed the situation, his brain running at high speed.
"It's a fusion. My consciousness is in the driver's seat, but I've inherited the body's instincts, habits, and... some kind of latent sense of responsibility that belonged to 'Shane Gallagher.'"
The original owner's memories weren't directly controlling him, but they were influencing his subconscious decisions like an invisible current.
So, aside from memories and instincts, what else had changed?
He focused, trying to get a feel for his new body.
If there were two voices in his head, that would be a problem.
...
After a quick internal scan...
"Okay, good. I'm still me. Just Shane from the other world."
But unlike his previous life's sub-health state, this body felt different.
There was a surplus of energy humming through him.
Shane squeezed his fist. His knuckles cracked crisply, and a surge of power traveled up his arm.
This was definitely off. In the original Shane's memories, there were scenes of him doing basic workouts in the basement or running from thugs, but nothing that would justify this kind of raw power.
He lifted his faded, oversized T-shirt and looked down at his stomach.
"Whoa..."
Instead of the scrawny, malnourished frame he expected, or even the vague outline of abs from being skinny, he was looking at a clearly defined eight-pack.
The muscles were tight and symmetrical, rippling slightly with his breathing.
He poked his stomach. Hard as a rock. Shane hissed in surprise.
Are these real?
"Did the original Shane secretly train like a beast?"
He dismissed the thought immediately.
The memories showed some light workouts, but nothing intense.
Besides, maintaining a physique like this required a strict diet and heavy training. Given the Gallaghers' poverty and stress levels... that was impossible.
"So... it's because of the fusion?"
He remembered reading web novels where soul fusion often resulted in physical enhancements.
"Maybe the merging of two souls—or consciousnesses—accidentally unlocked the body's potential? Or maybe it just performed a full 'optimization'?"
Shane nodded to himself. "Let's go with that."
He dropped his shirt, feeling a sudden surge of security. This physique was a huge win. In this chaotic world, these muscles were worth more than that tacky shopping app right now.
Shane threw a punch at the air. Whoosh. It was fast, coordinated, and smooth. No awkwardness at all.
"Looks like it's not just strength. Muscle memory and neural coordination got an upgrade too..."
He looked at his powerful hands, then down at the soft, squishy Liam in his arms. The contrast was ridiculous.
But with this kind of physical spec, at least he wouldn't be helpless if Frank tried to start something or if the local thugs tried to shake him down. He could run fast, if nothing else.
So, body: Check.
Next up: Figure out how to use his future knowledge and the system to make life for himself—and these "family members"—a little less hellish. (Frank excluded, obviously).
Time for a house tour.
Before transmigrating, he was a huge fan of Shameless. He'd binged the whole show and jokingly called the Gallaghers his "poor relatives on the South Side."
But now he was literally one of them. Life comes at you fast.
He set Liam down in the high chair and fed him the rest of the banana.
"Liam, you stay here and be good, okay? I'm just gonna look around the house."
Liam babbled happily, staring at his big brother with wide, innocent eyes.
"Okay," Shane answered for him. "I'll take that as a yes."
He couldn't resist pinching Liam's chubby cheek before straightening up to start his "exploration."
He stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking at the set he'd seen on screen a thousand times.
Now, it was real.
He ran his hand over the greasy wall, feeling the grit. He looked at the chaotic collage of sticky notes—Fiona's shopping lists, Lip's math formulas, Debbie's drawings.
In his old life, his English was barely passable. Now, reading these notes felt as natural as breathing.
"Hello. do re mi fa..."
He mumbled a tongue-twister in . "Still got it."
He spoke a few full sentences in , marveling at how fluent he still was.
After poking around the first floor, he casually walked up to the second floor.
Facing the hallway of doors, he went straight for the room Lip and Ian shared. He wanted to see if Ian's "magazines" were actually there.
"Holy sht!"
As soon as he pushed the door open, a wave of BO, sweat, and teenage hormones hit him in the face like a physical punch.
Downstairs, the smell had been masked by the beef noodles. But up here, in this enclosed space? It was concentrated. Shane's enhanced senses were not appreciating the "all-natural" scent of American teenage boys.
He held his breath and looked around. Three beds, clothes everywhere, the shared computer... exactly like the show. Old, cramped, and lived-in.
Shane walked over to the closet and gave the side panel a hard whack.
Clatter.
From the gap between the closet and the wall, a magazine slid out onto the floor.
Shane bent down and picked it up. The cover featured blonde women in bikinis, but when you opened it—well, let's just say the content was... unexpected.
This was Ian's secret stash.
Thinking about the chaotic plotlines this magazine would trigger later, Shane couldn't help but laugh.
"Classic."
Suddenly, a much more important plot point clicked in his brain.
If everything is exactly like the show... then there should be a stash of cash hidden in the upstairs bathroom by Aunt Ginger!