Hale gazed at the crimson pool oozing from his stomach, his breaths becoming shallower with each passing moment and his vision growing hazy. As he lay on the cold tile floor, he came to the realization that this was perhaps going to be the end of him. This was how his colorful life would finally come to an end.

However, even with these pessimistic discoveries, he felt no sadness or regret. Why would he regret? He had spent nearly 15 years living at the edge, aware that even a single mistake in his line of work could cost him his life. Being an assassin was a dangerous profession, after all. 

Rather, Hale felt proud of himself. It had taken the strength of a highly-trained 50-member special-ops squad to take him down. This was without counting the number of people that must have been involved in the background, planning this operation. Hale’s name would surely go down as one of the greatest assassins in history.

A content smile spread across his face as a sense of liberation overtook him. A squad of officers surrounded him with their guns pointed at his chest. They were shocked at the sight of this cruel, emotionless man smiling. The chief officer in charge of the mission let out a depressed sigh and lowered his gun a bit. 

“Farewell, Hale. Though your intentions might have been noble, your methods were too cruel. You took justice into your own hands. There are better ways to change the world than through violence.”

Hale didn’t bother to listen to the officer’s nonsense as he closed his eyes and let go of his final breath. 

***

Hale woke up with a start. Why did he wake up already? Didn’t he just close his eyes? Was he in hell or whichever afterworld he was destined for?

Examining his surroundings, he realized he was in a strange place. This was neither his home nor did it seem like a prison. He was in a cramped room, laying on an uncomfortable bed. 

“In fact,” Hale turned his gaze downwards, “even the clothes I wear are weird.”

Instead of the tight modern-style clothes he usually preferred, he had dawned upon a medieval-style European attire. 

Wait a second. What the hell.

“These body proportions aren’t right!” 

Hale had kept himself fit and healthy to keep up with his demanding work. Obesity had no place in the work of an assassin. However, as he looked down at his now bloated hands and protruding belly, a strange sense of foreboding came over him. A thought struck him - had he been in a coma for years, unable to move or exercise, leading to this drastic change in his appearance? The very idea sent a shiver down his spine.

The bed frame squeaked in relief as Hale quickly got off it. The room was dark, and Hale didn’t see any light switches nearby, but thankfully a window was present, allowing a thin beam of light to pour in, enabling Hale to notice a mirror hanging in the corner. 

As he walked towards it, he almost fell from imbalance. This body was much heavier than he was used to, far from his old body’s nimble and athletic state. But Hale didn’t fret too much over the loss of his old physique. A healthy figure could be regained anytime. What he was concerned about at the moment was something much more significant. The assassin’s intuition he had developed over the years was ringing like a sharp alarm in his mind.

After some difficulty maneuvering his body, Hale finally managed to reach the corner of the room. Though the action only took a few seconds, to Hale’s panicked mind, it felt like almost an eternity. His heartbeat turned faster, and the alarm in his head was like a beating drum now, as if warning him not to look in the mirror. But Hale persevered, mustering up the courage to see what had become of him.

As he finally looked at the mirror, he couldn’t help but let out a gasp of horror.

This was not him in the mirror. 

The face staring back at him certainly did not belong to him.

Gone was the face of the thirty-year-old, adorned with scars gained through years of his adventures. Instead, in place of it was the fat greasy face of a spoiled teenager. Combined with Hale’s serious expression, the face looked absolutely comical, as if it was not used to making such expressions.

Suddenly, the drum beating inside Hale’s head stopped. Absolute silence was left in its wake. No, wait, it wasn’t absolute silence. Instead, a subtle screeching sound took its place. As Hale registered its presence, the sound instantly let go of its subtlety, blaring even louder than the beating dreams, no longer allowing Hale to ignore it anymore.

As ‘his’ body fell over in pain, moments away from unconsciousness, foreign memories invaded his brain. Memories that didn’t seem to belong to him. It was like he was watching a movie about someone else’s life. The more he tried to ignore these memories, the more they clawed their way into his mind, demanding his attention. Suddenly, it only took a moment for these memories to become a part of his being, no longer allowing him to deny their existence. It was then that a realization dawned on him.

I...seem to have transmigrated.

***

Author's Note:

After 5 years, I think I am finally restarting this story, restoring it from my lost stash of drafts. Updates might still be erratic as uni exams and assignments take up my attention. Anyways, thank you for reading till here, I really appreciate it!