---

  The darkness was warm.

  Not the scary kind of dark. Not the "something's under my bed" dark. Just... warm. Quiet. Like being wrapped in a blanket that didn't exist.

  'So this is death,' I thought. 'Could be worse. Could be crowded.'

  I floated. Drifted. Let the nothing hold me.

  'Should I pray? People pray when they die, right? It's tradition.'

  I reached out mentally, aiming for... something. God? The universe? That one webnovel author who kept killing characters I liked?

  'Listen. Whoever's in charge. I'd like to request my next life. Nothing fancy. Just somewhere I'm overpowered. Demon Lord tier. God Lord tier. Anything with "Lord" in the title. Lord of Chill Vibes. Lord of Afternoon Naps. Lord of Please Don't Talk to Me Before Noon. I'm flexible.'

  'Actually—'

  I paused.

  'What am I even praying to? Is there a specific department for this? Reincarnation assignments? Isekai allocations?'

  'Should I have filled out a form?'

  'Ah shit. This overthinking brain. Can it not do ONE thing right? Just shut up and let me die properly?'

  I sighed. Mentally. In the void. Where sighs don't exist.

  Then I sighed again.

  Because suddenly—for no reason—I wanted to become a doctor.

  'Doctor Rudra. Saving lives. White coat. Stethoscope. Women love doctors. Respectable profession. Stable income. Pension plan.'

  'But no.'

  'Nope.'

  'Truck-kun gave me an insane offer and I'm taking it.'

  'Though—'

  The thought drifted in, unbidden.

  'I wonder what Priya's doing.'

  ---

  The Other Side

  Priya couldn't move.

  She lay on the asphalt, staring at the sky, her body refusing to cooperate. Somewhere nearby, people were screaming. Sirens were approaching. The world was chaos.

  'I should get up,' she thought. 'I should check on Rudra. I should—'

  But her legs wouldn't listen.

  'Why can't I move?'

  Something warm was spreading under her head. Wet. Sticky.

  'Is that—'

  She tried to turn her head. Couldn't.

  'The pothole,' she realized. 'I hit the pothole.'

  The irony would have made her laugh if she could breathe properly.

  'Rudra pushed me out of the way. Saved me from the truck. And I died anyway. Because of a pothole.'

  'In India.'

  'This is going to be the most embarrassing news headline.'

  Her vision was fading at the edges.

  'At least—'

  She thought of Rudra's smile. That stupid, confused smile he'd worn when she'd teased him at the gate.

  'At least he looked happy.'

  'At least—'

  Darkness.

  ---

  The Morning After

  LOK SABHA, NEW DELHI — 11 AM

  "SIR, THE INTERNET IS ON FIRE."

  The Minister of Road Transport looked up from his chai. "Define 'on fire.'"

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Memes, sir. Thousands of memes. #DeathHole is trending in forty countries. The BBC ran a segment called 'India's Deadly Roads.' The Prime Minister's office has called three times."

  The Minister closed his eyes.

  'God,' he thought. 'If you exist, strike me down now. Quick. Clean. Not a pothole.'

  Nothing happened.

  'Of course not.'

  ---

  THE INTERNET, HOURS LATER

  The video had been viewed 47 million times.

  Comments poured in from every corner of the globe:

  "Bro really said 'I gotchu' and meant it ??"

  "Truck-kun: 1, Pothole: Also 1. We need a tiebreaker."

  "India: Where the final boss is infrastructure."

  "She survived the truck but not the road. That's poetic in the worst way."

  "Imagine dying and your cause of death is 'pothole.' I'd come back as a ghost just to file a complaint."

  A petition appeared on Change.org: "Fill every pothole in India or rename the country to Potholestan."

  It got 2 million signatures in six hours.

  ---

  MINISTRY OF ROADS, 2 AM

  Four exhausted officials stared at a map covered in red dots.

  "Sir, there are too many. We can't fill them all."

  "Then we'll paint them."

  "Paint them, sir?"

  "Make them look filled. From a distance. At night. When no one's looking."

  "Sir, that's—"

  "Brilliant? Yes. I accept your admiration. Now get to work."

  ---

  Somewhere Else

  'Ding.'

  Nothing.

  'Ding ding.'

  Still nothing.

  'Ding ding ding.'

  'Okay,' I thought. 'No system. That's fine. Systems are overrated. Who needs numbers? Numbers are stressful. Numbers are—'

  I opened my eyes.

  Ceiling.

  Stone ceiling. The fancy kind, with patterns carved into it. A chandelier hung above me, candles flickering inside crystal.

  'Not my ceiling.'

  I looked around.

  Four-poster bed. Heavy curtains. Tapestries on the walls showing knights fighting dragons. A fireplace big enough to roast a person.

  'Not my room.'

  I looked down at myself.

  Pale hands. Long fingers. Clean nails. Wearing silk pajamas.

  'Not my body.'

  'Truck-kun delivered.'

  The realization hit slowly. Not with panic. Just... recognition. Like remembering you'd ordered something online and it finally arrived.

  'I'm isekai'd. I'm actually isekai'd. All those years of praying to Truck-kun. All those 3 AM wishes. They worked.'

  I waited for excitement to hit.

  It didn't.

  Instead, a thought arrived, quiet and cold:

  'Priya.'

  I pushed it away.

  'Not now. Can't think about that now. Focus on the situation.'

  The door opened.

  A girl entered. Young. Maybe eighteen. Brown hair pulled back. Wearing a simple dress and apron.

  She saw me. Froze.

  Then she ran forward.

  "My lord! You're awake! Praise the ancestors, you're awake!"

  She spoke English. Fluent English. The kind of English I definitely did not know in my previous life.

  But I understood every word.

  'Muscle memory? Brain download? Whatever it is, thank you.'

  "I'll fetch the head healer!" she continued, already turning. "The master will want to know immediately—"

  "Wait."

  The word came out before I could stop it. Deeper than my old voice. Smoother.

  The maid turned back, eyes wide.

  "My lord?"

  'Think. What would this body know? What questions can I ask without sounding suspicious?'

  "How long?" I said. "How long was I unconscious?"

  "Eight days, my lord. The healers said your mana channels were badly damaged. They weren't sure you'd wake at all."

  'Mana channels. Magic. Good. Magic exists. Important information.'

  "I see." I paused. "And... my parents?"

  The maid's expression softened. "Your mother hasn't left the manor since the accident. She's been in the chapel every day. Praying."

  'Parents. This body has parents. A family. A life.'

  "And my father?"

  "Meeting with the border lords. But he returns tonight. He'll be—" Her voice caught. "He'll be so relieved, my lord."

  'Border lords. This family has authority. Political power. Good. Useful.'

  I nodded, hoping the gesture looked natural.

  The maid hesitated. "My lord... forgive me for asking, but... do you remember the accident?"

  'Trap question. Careful.'

  "Vaguely," I said. "The healers said memory might be affected."

  "Of course, of course." She nodded quickly. "I'll fetch the healer. And your mother. She'll want to—"

  She was already moving, her words trailing behind her.

  The door closed.

  I was alone.

  'Okay,' I thought. 'Assessment time.'

  'World: Fantasy. Confirmed by architecture, clothing, and "mana channels" reference.'

  'Magic: Exists. Confirmed by above.'

  'System: None. Confirmed by complete lack of helpful blue screens.'

  'Name: Unknown. Forgot to ask. Idiot.'

  'Family status: Important. "Border lords" implies nobility. "Chapel" implies religion exists. Good to know.'

  'Body: Different. Voice deeper. Hands softer. Probably younger? Need to find mirror.'

  'Priya—'

  I pushed the thought away again.

  'Not now. Later. When I have information. When I know what's happening. Later.'

  The door burst open.

  A woman stood there. Older. Elegant. Wearing a dark blue dress that probably cost more than my previous life's annual income. Her eyes were red. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her.

  She looked at me.

  I looked at her.

  Then she crossed the room in five steps and pulled me into an embrace so tight I felt my borrowed ribs creak.

  "Kael," she whispered. "Kael, Kael, Kael."

  'Kael,' I thought. 'My name is Kael. Good. Good to know.'

  "You're awake," she said, pulling back to look at my face. Her hands cupped my cheeks, turning my head left and right like she was examining a valuable artifact. "You're really awake."

  "I'm awake," I confirmed.

  She burst into tears.

  I didn't know what to do. In my old life, crying women meant I'd said something wrong. Usually during arguments about why I hadn't called my mother in three weeks.

  But something in this body moved on its own. My hand rose. Resting on hers.

  "I'm here," I said. "I'm okay."

  She cried harder.

  I let her.

  And somewhere, underneath everything, a small voice whispered:

  'Priya. Did anyone hold your mother's hand?'

  ---

  LATER THAT NIGHT

  The manor was quiet.

  I'd spent the evening being examined by healers, fed soup by maids, and stared at by a woman who apparently was my mother. She'd stayed until I'd pretended to sleep.

  Now I was alone. In the dark. Staring at a ceiling I didn't recognize.

  'Kael,' I thought. 'Son of... someone. Family of... something. Injured in an accident involving mana channels. Probably young. Probably noble. Probably has responsibilities I know nothing about.'

  'No system. No tutorial. No helpful guide.'

  'Just me. In a strange body. In a strange world.'

  'And Priya—'

  I sat up.

  The thought wouldn't leave. It had been poking at me all day, slipping through every time my mind wandered.

  'Is she alive?'

  'She was on the ground. I saw her. She was moving. But the truck—'

  'No. I pushed her clear. She was clear. She had to be clear.'

  'But—'

  A knock.

  I looked toward the door. "Yes?"

  It opened.

  A figure stood there. Small. Hooded. Holding a candle.

  "Kael?" A girl's voice. Young. Trembling.

  "Who—"

  She stepped forward, pushing back the hood.

  A face. Familiar. Not from my world—from this world. Something in the features reminded me of—

  "Liana," she said. "Your sister."

  'Sister. I have a sister.'

  She crossed the room quickly, setting the candle on the bedside table. In the flickering light, I could see her better. Maybe twelve. Brown hair like the maid's. Eyes red from crying.

  "Everyone said you might not wake up." Her voice was small. Fierce. "I told them you would. I told them you promised."

  'Promised what? What did Kael promise?'

  "I'm here," I said carefully. "I woke up."

  She nodded. Swallowed. Then, in a rush: "Don't do that again. Don't go falling off horses and breaking yourself. It's stupid. You're stupid."

  'Horses. So the accident involved horses. Not mana combat. Not assassination. Just... falling off a horse.'

  'Kael, you idiot. You died from a horse? In a magic world? That's embarrassing.'

  "I'll try," I said.

  She stared at me for a long moment. Then she climbed onto the bed and hugged me.

  "You're warm," she muttered. "The healers said you were cold. For days. But you're warm now."

  'Because I'm not dead. Because someone else is driving this body now.'

  I didn't say that.

  Instead, I let my arm rest on her shoulder.

  "I'm warm," I agreed.

  ---

  SOMEWHERE ELSE, SAME TIME

  The funeral was small.

  Priya's mother stood at the edge of the grave, staring at the coffin. She hadn't spoken since the hospital. Hadn't eaten. Hadn't slept.

  Her husband held her hand. Said nothing.

  Behind them, a crowd of students held phones. Recording. Posting. Tagging.

  #RIPPriya

  #DeathHole

  #TruckKunWins

  Someone had made a tribute video set to sad music. It had 800,000 views.

  Someone else had made a meme comparing the pothole to the Minecraft void. It had 2 million likes.

  Her mother would never see them.

  Probably for the best.

  ---

  KAEL'S ROOM, DAWN

  I woke to sunlight.

  Real sunlight. Golden and warm, streaming through windows I didn't remember falling asleep near.

  'I fell asleep,' I realized. 'In a strange body. In a strange world. With a strange sister curled up next to me.'

  I looked down.

  Liana was still there. Asleep. Her face peaceful in a way it hadn't been the night before.

  'She trusts me,' I thought. 'She trusts Kael. She doesn't know Kael is gone.'

  The guilt arrived quietly. No drama. Just... presence.

  'I'm wearing a dead boy's body. I'm holding his sister. I'm lying in his bed.'

  'And Priya—'

  I closed my eyes.

  'Later. Process later. Function now.'

  The door opened.

  A maid—the same one from yesterday—peeked in. Saw me awake. Smiled.

  "Breakfast, my lord? Your mother asked to join you."

  I nodded.

  She withdrew.

  I looked at Liana. Still asleep. Still peaceful.

  'One day at a time,' I told myself. 'Figure out the world. Figure out the magic. Figure out—'

  'Priya.'

  'One day at a time.'

  ---

  END OF CHAPTER THREE

  ---

  Next Chapter: The Education of Kael — In which our hero discovers that "mana channels" require maintenance, tutors are judgemental, and having a little sister is surprisingly complicated.

  ---

  ---