I slowly open my eyes.

  Above me is an unfamiliar wooden ceiling, dusty and old.

  The mattress beneath my body feels uncomfortable. Dirt is everywhere, scratching against my skin.

  I look around. I’m inside a building made entirely of wood. There’s a window to my left and a chair beside my mattress.

  I turn my head. Sunlight filters weakly through the small wooden window. Beside me sits a simple, worn-out chair.

  "Where am I?" I whisper.

  I look at my hands.

  Why are my hands so small? My body feels smaller than before.

  Before I can make sense of it, the door creaks open.

  It’s the middle-aged man I saw earlier.

  His brown, curly hair is tangled and greasy. His body is muscular. Sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline might make him good-looking if he weren’t so dirty and wearing proper clothes.

  "###### ########## ####?"

  What the heck is he saying? It sounds like nonsense to me.

  The middle-aged man tries desperately to communicate, but I can’t understand a single word. I shake my head in frustration.

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  Eventually, he gives up and, to my surprise, starts crying as he hugs me.

  I freeze.

  What is this feeling? It hurts deep inside. I don’t even know him, but my heart aches.

  He cries for a solid five minutes before pulling back, wiping his tears, and pointing to himself.

  "Dada," he says.

  His voice cracks on the word.

  I stare at him.

  Dada?

  No… no, this can’t be.

  I don’t know what to do. I’m overwhelmed. Where am I? Why am I here? What happened to my mom? If I’m not there for her, who’s going to pay her hospital bills?

  Rae knows my family—I hope she’ll do something to help my mom. It’s not her responsibility, though. But my mom... she has no one else.

  Lost in confusion, I start crying.

  Tears stream down my face.

  It feels good.

  It feels relieving.

  Like letting go of something I didn’t realize I was holding onto.

  Strangely, when I cry, the man in front of me starts crying again too.

  We cry together, and he hugs me tightly.

  Tentatively, I whisper, "Da…da…"

  His eyes widen, shimmering with fresh tears.

  Maybe he’s my father or something. I don’t know. Could I have been transported to another world, like in those novels and anime I read?

  It’s so frustrating to be thrust into this situation. Who am I now? Some random kid? Did I… replace someone? Did I steal this life?

  I feel bad for him—he doesn’t deserve this, especially with such a caring father. No one deserves to lose everything like that.

  Suddenly, the man stands up and lifts me into his arms.

  I don’t resist.

  He carries me outside into a small, dirt-filled backyard.

  The air is crisp, tinged with the scent of earth and old wood.

  He grabs a wooden bucket, fills it with dirty water, and sets it down in front of me.

  A young boy, maybe five years old, stares back at me.

  "Ax##," the man says, pointing at the reflection.

  His accent is strange—completely different from anything I’ve heard in my original world. I can’t understand him.

  "AXL," he repeats, this time more clearly.

  Finally, I understand.

  "Axel," I say, testing the name on my tongue.

  That man gave me a bright smile when I said that name.

  Apparently, my name in this world is Axel.