Bab 3: Realization
"I... I don't remember," I said, my voice barely steady as I faced the man named Brandon.
"You can't remember your own name?" he asked skeptically, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. The weight of his gaze made the air in the room feel thick, like I was being judged under a spotlight.
"No... I can't remember anything," I responded, my throat tight. My heart raced. Was he seeing through me? Did he know I was lying?
"Are you sure?" he pressed, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping into something more dangerous, more probing. It felt like he was trying to dig straight into my soul with his questions.
"Yes, I'm sure," I said, the words slipping out almost too quickly. "Everything just... feels like a blur." I added a little more force this time, hoping it would cover the rising panic inside me.
Brandon's eyes didn't leave mine. He stared, hard, as though he was searching for cracks, any sign of weakness or dishonesty. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours, and I could feel sweat prickling at my brow. Was he going to call me out? Accuse me of something? I forced myself not to flinch under his gaze, but it felt like he could see right through me.
Finally, he sighed, breaking the tension like the snap of a taut string.
"Alright," he muttered, but his voice carried authority. "I'll go call a doctor to check on you. While I'm gone, try to remember something—anything," he barked, more like an order than a suggestion.
"I'll try," I responded, my voice coming out weaker than I intended, more like a whisper. I felt like a child being scolded, and it stung. I was supposed to be the author, the creator of this world. Yet here I was, lost and trembling under my own character's scrutiny.
"Don't move too much. I'll be back quickly," he said, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned and left the room.
I watched his back as he left, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. Once I was sure he was far enough away, I exhaled deeply, the tension leaving my body.
"He was so intense... Did he notice I lied?" I thought, fear creeping in. "But have I really been transported into my novel? Dungeons, villains, hero registration, and... Brandon Clover. One of my characters. His sharp eyes, bluish hair, the spear on his back, and his no-nonsense attitude—it's him. No doubt about it."
I ran my hands over my body, feeling strange. Everything seemed... smaller. My body didn't feel like it used to. Have I been transmigrated into someone else's body? Good thing I didn't tell Brandon my name—what if the name doesn't match the identity of this body's owner?
As the questions piled up in my head, my gaze fell on a mirror in the corner of the room. I stood up slowly, walking over to it, my legs weak beneath me. When I saw my reflection, my heart nearly stopped.
"What the...?" was all I could mutter.
The face staring back at me—it was me. But not how I looked now. No, I looked like I did when I was sixteen.
"Hey, brat! I'm back. I brought a doctor," Brandon's voice startled me out of my shock.
I turned just in time to see him walk in with a man in a white coat.
"I'm heading to the city hall to check if there's any missing persons that match your description," Brandon said, eyes scanning me with that same intensity. "The doctor's going to run some tests to see if you've got any injuries or figure out what caused your memory loss, alright?" He didn't wait for my response. "I'll leave you in his care."
"I'll do my best," the doctor said politely, but all those words were like background noise now.
I've really been transported into my novel... and I'm back in my sixteen-year-old body.
"Hello, young man. My name is Dr. Chris," said the balding doctor, his eyes gleaming unnaturally as he stepped into the room. His voice was too calm, like he was reading from a script he'd rehearsed a thousand times. "I'll be running some tests on you, if that's fine."
"Y-Yeah," I replied automatically, my mouth moving on its own. Something about him made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but I tried to suppress the unease creeping through me.
"Alright, just sit still." He moved closer, his gaze sharp as he raised his hand. "Scan."
His chant filled the air, barely audible, but somehow heavy. The room seemed to pulse with his voice.
"Reveal the unseen, the body's plight,
Show me its truth, with magic's light.
Scan."
I could feel his magic working its way over me, the green light crawling across my skin. I tried to focus, but my thoughts kept spiraling. What am I going to do? This world—my world—was no longer just a story. It was real, and I was stuck in it. Should I tell them the truth? If I said that I was the creator of this world, that I wasn't from here, they'd probably think I was insane.
"No major injuries. Just some cuts and bruises," the doctor murmured, his glowing hand drifting over me. It was like background noise, barely registering. My heart raced, though—what if they locked me up in an asylum? I shivered at the thought. The asylums here weren't places for recovery—they were hellholes where criminals and villains were kept. I had written them myself: cramped cells, constant monitoring, daily torment.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Dr. Chris asked, raising three fingers in front of my face.
"Three," I muttered, barely paying attention. My mind was spiraling. Maybe the asylum wouldn't be the worst. They feed you every day, they make sure you stay alive. But... surrounded by villains, by criminals who are even more twisted than I imagined?
Dr. Chris grunted, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Your eyesight is fine." His voice was distant, drowned out by the growing storm of thoughts in my head. I can't go there. They'd break me. I'd turn into one of them, living with criminals who pretend to be rehabilitated, manipulating everyone.
"Look at me," Dr. Chris's voice cut through my thoughts again, sharper this time. "Young man, look at me."
I snapped my attention back to him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were gleaming, too focused on me, like he was studying me for something more than just injuries. A shiver ran down my spine, but I tried to push it aside.
Wait... I'm sixteen now. My reflection from earlier flashed in my mind. I can still join Hope Academy. That's my chance. If I can get in, I'll have access to resources, magic training, skills... but I'm weak now. I have nothing.
Dr. Chris was muttering something else under his breath, moving his hands over my body again. There was a slight prickling sensation, almost like a needle pressing into my skin, but I ignored it. The villains— I wrote so many hidden cheats for them. Weapons, magic items, ancient artifacts they could use to overpower heroes. I could steal them. I know exactly where they're hidden.
"Hold still, this part may sting a little," Dr. Chris muttered.
A sharp pain lanced through my arm, followed by a cold, numbing sensation. I flinched, but it wasn't unbearable. He ran his fingers over my arm, muttering another chant under his breath. I'll take their power. Get stronger while they get weaker. I can do this.
Suddenly, pain shot through my legs like fire. I gasped, trying to jerk away, but Dr. Chris had a firm grip on me. I hadn't noticed when he'd started the test, but now the pain was intense, like needles stabbing into my bones.
"Almost done," he said softly, but his voice was too calm, too disinterested. There was something off about the way he looked at me, like he was observing a lab rat, not a patient.
The pain flared again—this time in my chest. It was like someone was tightening a vice around my lungs. I struggled to breathe, panic clawing at my throat.
Why is this... why is this hurting so much?
"Everything seems to be in order," Dr. Chris muttered, but there was an unsettling smirk playing at the edge of his lips. My heart pounded harder in my chest, drowning out the sound of his voice.
And then it hit me. No... no way.
Chris. Dr. Chris. The mad scientist. The man who conducted twisted experiments on his patients. The very character I created as a side villain, a lunatic hiding under the guise of a respected doctor.
Panic surged through me. Shit. It's him. This bastard is Chris!
My vision blurred as my heart raced. I'm in my own novel, and I'm stuck with one of the most insane people I ever wrote.
The pain was unbearable now, but I couldn't move, couldn't escape his hold. I need to get out of here. I need to get stronger before it's too late. Before they figure out who I am.
"Young man, can you look at me? Look at me," Dr. Chris said, his voice softer now, almost mockingly sweet.
I tried to meet his gaze, but everything was spinning. If I don't play this carefully, I'm dead. Or worse—locked in this madman's lab forever.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
cassi_godd
cassi_godd "Thank you for reading my shitty novel! I hope you'll continue to follow it, and maybe even add it to your library and vote for it. As always, feel free to comment with any questions or ideas you might have. I'll try to publish 20 chapters by the end of October, after which I'll slow down a bit. That's all for now—ciao!"
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone