Attempt #13
Method: Unconsciousness by hypothermia.
Result: FAILED
Keita tightened his grip on the pencil, almost snapping it in half.
This was his 13th attempt at transmigration, and the 13th time he had failed.
If anyone saw him doing all these attempts, they would assume he wanted to end his life. After all, he fit the profile perfectly.
He was bullied at school, had no friends, and no success whatsoever in life. He had shut himself in his room for months, refusing to go to school. His parents had almost given up on him. Although he was clearly a textbook case of every teenage psychology book, no amount of therapy had helped.
So when he made his first attempt, by jumping into the school pool with his full uniform on, everyone assumed he wanted to die.
And then the second time, when he electrocuted himself. Or when he tried jumping from the third floor of the school building, only to find out that the 3rd floor was not high enough to send you to another world but enough to get you sent to a hospital with broken ribs and six weeks of physical therapy.
But everyone had been wrong. Because as much as he hated his life, he didn't want to die. Death somehow still felt terrifying.
He just wanted… a different life.
A life where he was the hero, not the loser he was right now. A life where he was strong, where people praised him and chanted his name in admiration and gratitude. Where villains trembled when they heard his name.
Just like in the comics and web novels he read. Stories where ordinary boys like him transmigrated into another world… and became the hero.
Yes, Keita had been drowning himself in transmigration stories for nearly two years now. Another textbook would say, he was obsessed.
Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to believe transmigration were real. Not at first, at least. To him, they were just fiction. But then, while casually browsing one night, he found an online forum, in which people claimed they had experienced transmigration.
At first, he thought it was nonsense. The threads seemed like a collection of creative writing exercises or collective hallucinations. People shared logs of their successful transfers, detailing the sensory shifts and the specific triggers required to break the boundary.
He read until the sun came up. Then he read the next night.
Slowly, the wall between "impossible" and "untested" began to crumble. The idea stopped sounding like a delusion and started sounding like a technical problem with a difficult solution.
Maybe there really was a way out. A way to start over, reborn in a world where someone like him becomes stronger.
The screen of his computer flickered, then a message notification blinked in the corner.
KuroUsagi07: u still alive?
Keita stared at the text. He and KuroUsagi had met on the forum four months ago. They were the only two who seemed to take the "science" of crossing over seriously. Most other users were just roleplayers or trolls.
KuroUsagi07: if ur doing the freezer method again don't. that one was stupid.
Keita clicked the chat open, and started typing.
IseiKeita: It was not stupid. The principle was sound. I just underestimated the lock mechanism.
Three dots appeared in the chat. They vanished, then reappeared.
KuroUsagi07: thats called almost dying. not transmigrating.
Keita frowned, despite being alone and whoever his online chat partner was, would not see him.
"It was a close attempt," he muttered.
He typed again.
IseKeita: Near-death states are statistically relevant. Many successful cases begin with physical trauma. There are patterns.
No reply came for several seconds.
KuroUsagi07: keita
KuroUsagi07: go outside
Keita immediately closed the chat window. There were some lines a person could cross and still remain decent. That one was unacceptable.
He returned to the post.
"Complete emotional detachment from current life," he read quietly.
That part, at least, was easy.
He stepped down from the chair and sat on the bed. The springs gave a tired creak under his weight. Across from him, reflected in the dark monitor, was a sixteen-year-old boy with bad posture, uncut hair falling over his eyes, and the kind of face people would forget he was in the room at all.
Turning his attention toward his door, he saw his school uniform hung untouched behind the door. Preserved like something that belonged to a dead student.
He hadn't worn it in eight months.
The reasons for his withdrawal were ordinary. The boys in his class had decided early on that Keita was easy entertainment. He was quiet, slow to respond, and far too eager whenever someone showed him even the slightest bit of attention. They took his shoes, edited his photos, took his lunch money, just standard bullying stuff.
Then the rumor started, and it went downhill from there. He never found out who started it, only that by the end of the week, the girls looked at him with disgust and the teachers used that careful voice that the adults used when they had already decided you were a helpless case.
His father had told him to "endure it" while his mother had simply cried. So, he stopped going. It was simpler. He learned quickly that the world outside did not improve by participating in it. They were better off without him.
KuroUsagi07: still alive?
The screen blinked again. KuroUsagi wasn't letting it go. Keita sighed and dragged himself back to the desk.
IseKeita: Unfortunately.
A second later,
KuroUsagi07: good. a new thread just dropped. The guy claims he found a pre-transfer sign. sky distortion, mild tremor, ringing in ears.
KuroUsagi07: probably fake but funny read
Keita's fingers paused over the mouse. He clicked the link.
The post was short and buried under insults from trolls:
Before crossing, reality may show small faults. A brief shake. Sky turning dark. Observe if something has shifted and out of place. Do not ignore it. The door opens both ways.
Keita narrowed his eyes. The replies were the usual garbage:
source: trust me bro
I crossed last year can confirm lol
He scrolled back up and read the last sentence again.
The door opens both ways.
A stupid phrase. The kind people wrote because it sounded cool.
KuroUsagi07: as silly as it sounds, on a related note, I heard there's a solar eclipse tomorrow exactly at noon.
KuroUsagi07: also
KuroUsagi07: multiple planets are lining up at the same time.
IseKeita: So?
KuroUsagi07: so if you read enough transmigration stories, that's when portals open
KuroUsagi07: could be our chance
Keita paused.
…He wasn't entirely wrong.
In several stories he had read, celestial events like eclipses or planet alignments were often the triggers.
Before he could respond, the door creaked open.
His mother peeked in. A beautiful woman in her late forties, wearing the same worried expression she had carried for the past eight months.
"Keita… may I come in?"
Her voice was gentle. It was the kind of voice that made it very hard to say no to. He gave a stiff nod and pretended to be busy with his computer.
"Keita, tomorrow… we're all going to Hawaii. As planned."
She stepped closer, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. The gesture hurt more than her voice.
"Please come. The tickets are ready."
She gently turned his chair to face her. "We're doing this for you."
Keita felt a familiar spark of frustration. They thought a vacation could fix a broken soul. They thought sunshine and sand would make him forget the feeling of being invisible.
Keita turned away, gripping the edge of his desk and forcing the chair back to turn toward the screen.
"No. I told you before, so many times. You never listen. I don't want to go."
"Please, Keita, I ju—"
"No! You don't understand! I can't go. Not now!"
He hadn't meant to yell. The moment he saw his mother's expression shatter, regret flooded him. He opened his mouth to apologize, but another voice cut in.
"That is not how you talk to your mother!"
His father stepped into view. A tall man with a sharp, angry face appeared behind his mother.
"If you don't want to come, then don't. Stay in this hole of yours. We've had enough of your antics."
"Dear, Keita was just—"
"We're leaving tomorrow without him. That's final," his father snapped. He looked at Keita with a mixture of pity and resentment. "Let him rot here for all I care."
And just like that, he was gone, dragging his mother with him.
Keita looked at the closed door, then back at the glowing screen.
The door opens both ways.
"Yeah," he murmured to the empty room. "Sure it does."