Pastwhispers: Transmigrated Into Regression Story

The reflection in the mirror refused to change.

Ryo's breath came in short, ragged gasps as he stumbled backward, his heart pounding violently against his ribs. His legs trembled, barely able to support his weight. The elegant yet unfamiliar clothing clung to him, a suffocating reminder that everything—*everything*—was wrong.

*This isn't real.* *This isn't real.*

He forced himself to look away, but the moment he did, another wave of panic crashed over him. The grand chamber he stood in, with its towering stone walls and dim torchlight, wasn't his bedroom. The air smelled different—earthy and cold, laced with the scent of burning wax and aged wood. The flickering shadows twisted and stretched unnaturally across the floor.

He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as he squeezed his eyes shut. *Wake up. Wake up.* This had to be another dream, another hallucination brought on by whatever madness had been seeping into his mind. *I just need to wake up—*

But no matter how many times he told himself that, the world around him didn't waver. The cold seeped through his clothing, the rough stone under his fingertips felt painfully real, and the weight of his own body was unmistakably solid.

*No, no, no.*

Ryo staggered toward the nearest table, gripping its edge so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His breathing was erratic, his chest rising and falling far too quickly. He had read dozens—*hundreds*—of transmigration stories, but this wasn't some wish-fulfillment fantasy. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be *anyone else but himself.*

"This isn't happening…" he whispered, barely able to hear his own voice over the rush of blood in his ears.

His mind raced for answers. Was this a dream? A delusion? Some kind of coma-induced hallucination? Or had he actually—

*No, don't say it. Don't even think it.*

He clawed through his thoughts, desperately searching for a way out. If this was a dream, there had to be a way to wake up. If it was a hallucination, then all he had to do was wait for reality to snap back into place. And if—if this was *real*—then he needed to find a way *back*.

Ryo tried everything. He pinched himself hard enough to leave a mark. He slammed his fist against the table. He pressed his palm against his chest, willing his body to return to his own. Nothing worked.

Minutes passed—maybe hours. He didn't know anymore. His breathing eventually slowed, though his hands still trembled. His body, despite his mind's resistance, began to accept the terrifying truth.

He was here. He wasn't waking up.

And worst of all—

He had no idea *how* to go back.

His fingers curled into a fist, his nails biting into his palm. He forced himself to breathe, to *think*. Panicking wouldn't help—not now. There had to be something, some clue, some explanation for why this was happening.

Then, as if answering his unspoken plea, his gaze landed on the desk across the room.

There, resting neatly on the polished wood, was an envelope. The parchment was thick and old-fashioned, sealed with a wax stamp. But what truly made his blood run cold was the name written on the front.

**To Ryo.**

His heart slammed against his ribs. His breath hitched. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring, unable to move. It was impossible. No one here should know his real name. No one should even *know he existed*.

And yet, the letter was there. Waiting for him.

Swallowing hard, he took hesitant steps forward, his hands trembling as he reached for the envelope. His fingers brushed against the parchment, and an inexplicable chill crawled up his spine.

Who had left this here?

And more importantly—

How did they know he would come?

---

With shaky hands, Ryo broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. His eyes darted across the page, his pulse hammering as he read the first line.

**Hey Ryo, I know you're panicking right now.**

His breath hitched. *What the hell?*

**You probably feel like your world has shattered. You're in an unfamiliar place, in a body that isn't yours, and you have no idea what to do next. First things first—breathe.**

His grip tightened on the letter. Whoever wrote this knew exactly what he was going through, down to the panic constricting his chest. He forced himself to take a slow, shaky breath before continuing.

**I don't have much time to explain, and you wouldn't believe most of it anyway. Just know this—your survival depends on how well you adapt. You *must* survive, Ryo. You were brought here for a reason, and even if you don't understand it now, you will.**

Ryo swallowed hard, his throat dry. Every instinct screamed at him to question it, to fight against the absurdity of the situation. But deep down, he already knew he didn't have a choice.

**To help you, I've left you with something—a guide, a helper. You're not alone in this. Use it well.**

The letter ended there, leaving Ryo with more questions than answers. His fingers trembled as he lowered the parchment, his thoughts spiraling. *A helper? What does that mean?*

And then—

[Initializing System...]

A voice—mechanical yet oddly neutral—echoed in his mind, and his vision blurred for a split second before a translucent screen flickered to life in front of him.

Ryo's stomach dropped.

He was *not* prepared for this.

---

[System Error Detected.]

[Required sacrifice not met.]

[Emergency Protocol Initiated. Using Administrator's Lifespan as Fuel...]

Ryo's breath caught in his throat as a deep, unnatural *thrum* echoed in his head. The screen before him flickered violently, distorting and glitching with unreadable text.

[Warning: Unauthorized access detected.]

[Connection forcefully removed.]

[System Shutdown.]

And just like that, the translucent screen shattered into fragments of light before vanishing entirely. A deafening silence followed, leaving Ryo standing there—staring at the empty space where the system had just been.

His blood ran cold.

Whatever had just happened—whoever had tried to bring him here—

Something had *gone terribly wrong.*