I lost a world.
Not metaphorically. Not some cheap dramatization to earn sympathy. I literally… lost a world.
And the worst part?
I woke up in another one.
Not just somewhere else. Not a vivid dream that refuses to end. I woke up in a body that isn't mine, breathing air that feels unfamiliar, staring into a mirror that reflects a face I have never known.
Fuck it, We Ball.
I was thrown into this world—more precisely, into a place called Kingsport, Minton Street, Tennessee, USA.
The late 1990s.
A world on the edge of change.
The air itself feels different here, like it's holding its breath before stepping into a new era. The year 2000 is approaching—a new decade, a new millennium. In my world… that was the year I was born.
But not here. Not like this.
And definitely not in America.
I was born in a small ASEAN country. Far from this place. Far from this culture. Far from this life.
And yet now—
I'm here.
Living it.
Seeing it with my own eyes—not through screens, not through stories, not through history. The houses feel strange. Too quiet. Too structured. The walls feel thicker, like they're built to keep the world out rather than let it in.
Even the air smells different.
Dry. Clean. Empty.
For three days, I've done nothing but observe.
Three days of sitting in a room that isn't mine, living a life that doesn't belong to me, trying to make sense of something that refuses to break.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating.
That my mind had finally snapped, maybe I was in a coma. Maybe this was a dream.
I even tried to wake myself up.
It didn't work.
So I started digging.
Newspapers. Old magazines. A bulky computer humming softly on a wooden desk.
Everything I found—
Was consistent.
History matches. Wars match. Timelines match. But there is no painter from Austria.
Almost.
Because the names are wrong.
The people who were supposed to shape history… don't exist.
Replaced.
Rewritten.
It's like this world is a copy—
But someone forgot the details.
And that's when I stopped denying it.
This isn't my world.
This is another one.
And somehow—
I've been thrown into it.
…
The mirror doesn't lie.
A boy stares back.
Seventeen. Maybe eighteen.
Black hair, slightly wavy. Sharp features. Blue eyes carrying a quiet indifference.
I raise my hand.
He raises his.
Still not used to it.
"Daniel Carter…" I mutter.
The name feels foreign.
But it's mine now.
A knock.
"Daniel? You awake?"
A woman's voice.
Soft. Familiar—to this body.
"…Yeah," I reply.
"Breakfast is ready. Don't be late again."
Late again.
So this body has a past.
A life.
"Got it."
Footsteps fade.
Silence returns.
I look around the room.
Messy desk. Scattered clothes. Posters on the wall.
This isn't just a world I don't recognize.
It's a life I never lived.
And yet—
I'm expected to continue it.
I stand up.
Walk to the door.
Pause.
Three days ago, I had a world.
Now—
I have this.
Minton Street. Number 1001.
A two-story house in a quiet, middle-income neighborhood. White-painted wood, a slightly worn porch, and a lawn maintained just enough to look respectable.
This is my home now.
John McCarter—my father. Irish descent. Emily Diletta Carter—my mother. Italian descent.
And me.
Daniel Diletta Carter. Or Daniel D. Carter( The Will OF D Will LIVE)
Seventeen years old. Senior year at Dobyns-Bennett High School.
I stare at my reflection for a moment before leaving the room.
Black hair, slightly wavy—like a calm Mediterranean sea. Blue eyes, sharp and clear, inherited from my father. And a warm-toned skin from my mother's side.
Objectively speaking…
This body looks good.
Too good, honestly.
But the expression? Lazy. Detached. Slightly uninterested in everything around him.
An introvert.
…That part, at least, makes things easier.
"Daniel!"
A voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I blink, then exhale softly.
Right.
Breakfast.
I open the door and walk downstairs, each step now natural—like I've lived here my whole life.
The dining room greets me with warmth. Sunlight slipping through the window, the faint smell of toasted bread, eggs, and coffee lingering in the air.
They're already there.
"Morning," I say casually.
Emily Carter—my mother—turns toward me with a gentle smile. Her dark hair tied loosely, eyes soft but observant.
"Morning, honey. You're up earlier than usual."
So he's usually late.
Good to know.
John Carter sits across the table, reading a newspaper. He lowers it slightly, giving me a brief nod.
"Don't make it a habit," he says. "You'll ruin your reputation."
Dry humor.
I nod back and take my seat.
"Yeah. Wouldn't want that."
They didn't notice.
Not a single hint of suspicion.
For three days… I've been living here, pretending to be their son.
And somehow—
It works.
Because of the dreams.
Every time I sleep, I see his life.
Daniel's life.
From childhood to now, like watching a perfectly edited film. Memories, habits, small details—how he talks, how he reacts, what he likes, what he avoids.
And more importantly…
What kind of person he is.
Lazy. Quiet. Observant.
I don't even have to act that much.
"…You okay?" Emily asks suddenly.
I look up.
"Yeah. Just thinking."
She studies me for a second, then smiles.
"Try not to think too hard before school."
I give a small nod and continue eating.
Normal.
Everything feels… normal.
Too normal.
And yet—
There's one thing that isn't.
The last thing I remember from my previous world.
A computer screen.A game running—Stronghold Crusader.A cheat engine program open beside it.And a novel on the side.
Classic.
If someone told me this was the reason I got isekai'd, I wouldn't even argue.
But the absurd part?
It came with me.
Not physically.
But… functionally.
A system without an interface.
No screen. No window.
Just two abilities burned directly into my mind.
Scan.
Change Value.
At first, I thought it was just imagination.
Until I tested it.
A single coin.
1 cent.
I focused.
Scanned it.
A value appeared in my mind—clear, precise.
Then I changed it.
And in the next second—
Another coin appeared.
Right in front of me.
Duplicated.
No delay. No restriction.
Just… creation.
Broken.
Completely broken.
And it doesn't stop at objects.
I tested it on myself.
Carefully.
Heart rate. Fatigue. Minor physical attributes.
All of them… have values.
And all of them—
Can be changed.
Overpowered doesn't even begin to describe it.
"…Daniel?"
I snap back.
"Yeah?"
"You're zoning out again," John says.
"Eat."
"Right."
I finish my breakfast quickly after that.
No need to draw attention.
Not yet.
After eating, I stand and grab my bag.
"Heading out," I say.
"Have a good day," Emily replies with a smile.
"Don't skip class," John adds without looking up.
I smirk slightly.
"No promises."
And with that, I step outside.
The morning air hits differently.
Cool. Quiet. Suburban.
For a moment, I just stand there, looking at the street.
Cars passing. Neighbors walking. A world moving forward like nothing is wrong.
Like this is normal.
I start walking toward school.
Dobyns-Bennett High School.
Final year.
A fresh start… in a world that isn't mine.
But maybe—
That's not a bad thing.