NOVEL NEXT Chapter : Prologue: A Morning of Bewilderment
Ankush Halder tossed restlessly in his bed, the gentle hum of his air conditioner barely masking the anxious whirlpool of thoughts in his mind. The dim blue glow from his PC monitor cast faint shadows on the walls, bouncing off anime posters and neatly arranged textbooks on mechanical engineering. The calendar on his study table clearly showed the date: March 7, 2025.
He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the digital clock—2:30 AM. The weight of three pending current-supply papers, coupled with the looming placement season, gnawed at his nerves. Everyone around him at Jadavpur University seemed to radiate confidence about securing high-paying jobs, but Ankush, despite being bright, felt strangely uneasy.
He sighed and sat up, his gaze sweeping across his room, comfortably nestled on the second floor of their modest three-storied home on Shantineer Lane, a quaint, imaginary neighborhood near Jadavpur. It was a quintessential middle-class household, where his father, Ramesh Halder, and mother, Monika Halder, both dedicated primary school teachers, had painstakingly saved money to provide him a decent life.
His room was a reflection of his own personality: simple yet meticulously organized. Against one wall stood a sturdy wooden bookshelf, filled meticulously with textbooks—Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics, Thermodynamics, Fluid Mechanics. His pride was his PC setup: a sleek monitor, glowing RGB keyboard, and a well-maintained CPU—his faithful companion during countless sleepless nights.
"Why am I even worrying now?" he muttered, shaking his head, attempting to drive away anxious thoughts. He lay back down, determined to squeeze out a few more hours of sleep.
The next thing Ankush knew, warm rays of sunlight were streaming through his partially drawn curtains, gently nudging him awake. He blinked slowly, stretching his arms lazily. The uneasy weight from the previous night felt oddly distant.
He casually glanced at his clock—it read 7:00 AM. Yawning, he stumbled toward the calendar, intending to cross-check his schedule for the day. His eyes widened in confusion. The date glaring back at him was not March 7, 2025, but March 7, 2020.
"What the heck?" he whispered, rubbing his eyes vigorously. "Is this some kind of prank?"
Ankush hurriedly checked his phone—again, March 7, 2020. He shook his head, bewildered. The familiar ringtone and the clunky design of the outdated smartphone in his hands brought back a sudden flood of nostalgia.
"No way," he murmured, shaking slightly as disbelief turned into apprehension. He turned swiftly, his eyes landing on the bookshelf. Instead of familiar engineering textbooks, the titles on the shelves left him speechless:
Magic Engineering: A Fundamental Guide
Warrior Skills: Basic Techniques and Tactics
Introduction to Archery: Precision and Power
Beginner's Guide to Elemental Magic
Swordsmanship for Novices
Alchemy and Potion-Making Essentials
Ankush felt his heartbeat accelerate sharply, a mix of disbelief and childlike wonder rushing through him. His fingers brushed the intricate cover of "Magic Engineering," and a wave of excitement, curiosity, and fear washed over him. Could these books be real? Had he genuinely traveled through time or perhaps something more?
He quickly turned to his desk, his fingers trembling. Instead of his gaming mouse and keyboard, there lay beautifully crafted quills, mysterious glowing ink bottles, and an elegantly detailed notebook with golden edges. He flipped through it, eyes wide at intricate diagrams depicting mechanical contraptions fused with magical spells, each explanation detailed yet utterly alien.
"Have I... transmigrated?" Ankush whispered incredulously, recalling countless web novels about protagonists reincarnating or traveling between worlds. Yet, seeing his familiar PC setup still intact provided some reassurance—it hinted more at time travel than complete transmigration.
Before he could fully process this possibility, his mother's familiar voice floated upstairs. "Ankush! Breakfast is ready! Hurry up, or you'll be late for class!"
He froze momentarily, heart thumping wildly. Gathering his wits, he took a deep breath, composed himself, and shouted back, "Coming, Ma!"
Stepping into the corridor, he paused briefly to look around. Everything else seemed normal—the worn carpet in the hallway, the family portraits hanging slightly askew, the scent of spices drifting upstairs.
"Maybe this isn't a dream after all," he muttered, gripping the stair railing tightly as he descended, bracing himself for whatever revelations awaited him downstairs.