"Where am I?"

Ernest muttered as he looked around him. Everything was pitch black, like he was in the middle of a void. He recalled what happened earlier, about him getting to work. He was in his car and on his phone reviewing data the company had sent him and suddenly, there was an excruciating pain in his chest that made him black out.

Now, he was here. Could it be that this is the afterlife? There is no heaven or hell? If so, this is the worst. He dreaded the idea of having to spend the rest of eternity floating in a complete darkness with full awareness.

"No, this can’t be the end," he muttered again, but there was no voice coming out as it was all in his mind.

He refused this to be his fate, he would rather be in hell than to suffer an everlasting stasis in a dark void.

Moments later, something flickered in front of him. He looked towards it and saw a streak of light piercing the darkness, growing brightly as if trying to break the shell of the void as he could see the cracks forming around.

He doesn’t know what’s happening but he knows that is a good sign. He tried to reach for it, imagining himself to float toward it. And he could feel that he was being pulled over to it

Seconds after, the light went out, replaced by a blurry haze of vision. It was not bright or dark anymore. It took another second for his vision to clear itself and when it did, he saw something unexpected.

It was a ceiling, a roof ceiling to be exact. He expected it would be like a hospital ceiling or his house if he was dreaming but the ceiling above him didn’t resemble anything like a hospital or his house.

After all, it was made of wood, and it seemed to be water-damaged as some parts have black marks spreading along the edges like mold had settled there for years.

Also, the air smelled damp.

Not the kind of dampness from an old apartment or a leaking office building. This was different. It smelled earthy, like wet wood mixed with smoke and dust.

Slowly, he lifted his head.

The room around him was small with one window allowing the sunlight to pass through and is the source of light. He looked down and saw a rough quilt and bed, possibly made out of straw and old fabric stitched together repeatedly over the years. The bed frame itself looked uneven, as if someone had built it by hand using leftover wood.

Then, he scanned left to right and saw only a wardrobe. It was a simple bedroom setup but something was off.

First of all, he is not familiar with this room. Who does it belong to? Second, for a room this size, he expected there’d be devices such as an electric fan or an outlet but looking around again, there’s nothing to be found.

No, the most important question is where he was now?

Ernest slowly pushed himself upright from the bed.

The moment he did, a wave of dizziness hit him immediately.

"Ugh..."

He grabbed the side of the bed frame for support as his vision blurred for a second. His body felt unbelievably weak. Not sore. Weak.

Like he had not eaten properly for days.

His arms trembled slightly just from supporting his own weight.

"What the hell is wrong with me..."

He frowned and tried to stand anyway.

The wooden floor creaked beneath him as his bare feet touched the cold surface. But the moment he fully stood up, something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

The room suddenly looked... bigger.

At first, Ernest thought it was just the dizziness messing with his perception, but as he steadied himself and looked around again, he slowly realized the truth.

The wardrobe wasn’t actually tall.

He was short.

Slowly, Ernest raised his hands in front of him.

His fingers looked young, almost fragile, with dirt stuck beneath the nails. The skin was rough in some areas despite clearly belonging to someone young.

"No..."

His voice sounded different too, like that of a child.

A chill ran down his spine.

Immediately, he stumbled toward the small wardrobe. Attached to its side was a cracked piece of metal polished enough to vaguely function as a mirror.

Ernest stared at the reflection.

And froze.

A child stared back at him.

Messy brown hair, thin face, and pale skin. A typical physical description of a child.

He looked no older than ten.

Maybe eleven at most.

"What..."

His voice shook slightly.

He touched his face.

The reflection copied him perfectly.

"This... this isn’t me."

Panic started creeping into his chest.

He quickly looked down at himself again.

His clothes were oversized and rough, clearly handmade from coarse fabric. His arms were skinny. His shoulders narrow. Even his feet were small.

This was not his body.

His breathing became uneven.

"No, no, no!"

Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded inside his head.

"Ah...!"

Ernest stumbled backward and lost his footing completely.

His weak body crashed against the side of the bed before falling hard onto the wooden floor with a loud thud.

"Ernest?!"

A panicked voice came from outside the room.

The door burst open a second later.

A woman hurried inside carrying a small wooden bowl in her hands. The moment she saw him on the floor clutching his head, her expression immediately changed into alarm.

"Ernest!"

She quickly placed the bowl down on the table before rushing toward him.

"What happened?!"

Ernest looked up instinctively.

The woman looked exhausted.

Not old, but worn down by life.

Her brown hair was tied loosely behind her head, though strands had fallen around her face. Her clothes were patched repeatedly in different places, and her hands looked rough from constant labor. Even so, there was warmth in her eyes the moment she looked at him.

But Ernest barely noticed any of that right now.

Because another flood of memories suddenly surfaced.

Her face.

Her voice.

Late nights sewing beside candlelight.

Quietly skipping meals so her son could eat instead.

A name. Clara Teucher.

His... mother? Wait, why does he have the same name as the child in this body? It’s so confusing.

The woman immediately crouched beside him and held his shoulders carefully.

"You’re still weak. Why did you try standing up?" she asked worriedly.

Ernest could only stare at her blankly.

The inherited memories kept colliding with his own thoughts, making his mind feel chaotic.

Mother.

The word itself felt strange as he knew his mother passed away when he was five years old. It was a long time but he missed her.

So seeing this woman looking at him with genuine worry stirred something uncomfortable in his chest.

"Ernest?"

Anna’s voice softened.

"You’re scaring me."

"I..."

Ernest stopped midway.

What was he even supposed to say?

That he was a grown man from another world trapped inside her son’s body?

That he had memories that did not belong to him?

No sane person would believe that.

"I’m fine," he finally muttered.

Even to his own ears, the childish voice sounded unnatural.

Anna sighed in relief after hearing him respond.

"Thank the heavens..."

She gently helped him sit upright against the bed frame.

"You shouldn’t move like that, you had a fever for over a week already," Anna continued softly. "Your body’s still weak."

A week? So that explains the reason why his body felt so weak.

"No, I’m good mother, I’m fine really," Ernest said, calming her down.

"Okay, just let me know if you want to eat as I can prepare a soup for you," she said.

Ernest thought for a moment, he wanted to know where this place was as the memory of the original one was still hazy.

"Where is this place? What country is this," he asked.

Hearing that, Anna’s eyes widened. Why would her son ask something like that? Still, it was a question that she should answer.

"What do you mean? We are in the city of Helmarte, the capital city of the Kingdom of Belfast."

Ernest looked up to her. Helmarte? Kingdom of Belfast? That doesn’t sound like a country on Earth. Though Belfast sounded familiar as it was in the United Kingdom but still, it wasn’t called a Kingdom.

Wait, does this mean that this wasn’t Earth anymore? And that he reincarnated in another world?

But why does everything look so antique? In his memories, transportation is by the means of horse-drawn carriages, there were no cars, no trains, not even proper paved roads from what he could remember.

The more Ernest thought about it, the more unbelievable everything became.

Another world.

He had actually reincarnated into another world.

As absurd as it sounded, the evidence was right in front of him.

The primitive room.

The handmade furniture.

The lack of electricity.

And now, kingdoms.

Actual kingdoms.

Ernest slowly leaned back against the bed frame while trying to process everything.

Anna looked worried seeing his expression.

"Are you sure you’re alright?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Ernest quickly answered. "I just... feel strange after the fever."

That seemed to reassure her slightly.

"You should rest more," she said. "The fever nearly took you away from us."

Ernest quietly nodded.

The inherited memories inside his head were still blurry in many places, like pieces of a broken puzzle slowly putting themselves together.

From what he could gather so far, the Kingdom of Belfast was not some tiny village nation.

It was an actual kingdom with cities, nobles, merchants, knights, and farmland spread across large territories.

And Helmarte, the city they were currently living in, was apparently the capital.

That surprised him.

Because if this was the capital, then the overall technological level of this world was lower than he expected.

Back on Earth, capital cities were filled with skyscrapers, highways, airports, and millions of people.

Meanwhile, this place barely seemed more advanced than medieval Europe.

This is more troubling than he thought. Sure, he was glad he didn’t get to spend an eternity in the dark void, but to live in a medieval-esque world. It would be like a torture for someone who had lived in the 21st-century.

He wondered what life would look like from this point onward? As he recalled, his family was dirt poor. He doesn’t have any siblings as they had died from smallpox, his father is working as a blacksmith and his mother is a seamstress.

Sure they have jobs but they are still poor, or what they refer to in this world is "commoner".

Wait, still, he retained his memory from this previous life. Meaning, he still has access to forty years worth of knowledge from Earth, specifically, engineering knowledge.

What if he could use his knowledge, invent things that would be revolutionary in this world, and make a living out of it?

That’s it!

From this point onward, he’ll accept his new life and begin his journey as an engineer in a medieval world.