The room was dark.
Only the pale light of a laptop illuminated the young man’s face.
A movie had ended several minutes ago, yet he continued staring at the frozen screen.
The credits were already gone.
The applause was gone.
The actors had returned to their lives.
Yet he remained there.
Alone.
His eyes slowly moved toward the reflection visible on the blackened screen.
An ordinary face.
An ordinary room.
An ordinary life.
He gave a quiet laugh.
“So that’s it, huh?”
No one answered.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
When he was younger, he had dreamed of many things.
He had wanted to act.
Not because he simply desired fame.
He loved the feeling of becoming someone else.
Whenever he watched a great actor laugh, cry, rage, or stand silently before the camera, he wondered what it would feel like to make millions of people feel something through a single expression.
Sometimes he wanted to sing.
Sometimes he imagined standing before thousands of people.
Sometimes he imagined creating stories that people would remember long after he was gone.
He had dreamed endlessly.
Reality, however, had been considerably less romantic.
Dreams required opportunity.
Opportunity required courage.
Courage required confidence.
And sometimes…
Life simply didn’t go the way someone wanted.
Years passed.
One compromise became another.
One abandoned dream became ten.
Eventually, the boy who had believed he could become anything became a man who was merely trying to get through another day.
His eyes opened.
“Why?”
It was a foolish question.
Perhaps that was why he finally allowed himself to ask it.
“Why couldn’t my life ever go the way I wanted?”
Silence.
He laughed at himself.
“Look at me.
Asking the ceiling for answers.”
He closed the laptop.
That should have been the end of another ordinary night.
Instead—
His world went black.
There was no pain.
That was the first thing he noticed.
No heartbeat.
No breathing.
No sensation of a body at all.
He tried opening his eyes.
Nothing changed.
Darkness surrounded him in every direction.
“Am I dreaming?”
His voice echoed strangely.
Then came an answer.
“No.”
The single word seemed to come from everywhere.
The darkness trembled.
The young man froze.
“Who’s there?”
No figure appeared.
No face.
No body.
And yet, somehow, he knew.
Something was watching him.
Something so vast that attempting to understand it felt like trying to hold an ocean in his hands.
His throat became dry despite no longer knowing whether he possessed a throat.
“…God?”
There was silence for several moments.
Then—
“You may call me that.”
He should have been terrified.
Instead, strangely, the first emotion that emerged was bitterness.
“So I really died?”
“Yes.”
“That’s surprisingly straightforward.”
There seemed to be amusement within the silence.
The young man lowered his head.
He didn’t ask how.
It suddenly seemed unimportant.
After a while, he whispered,
“Then can I ask something?”
“You already did.”
He blinked.
Then laughed.
“Okay.
Fair enough.”
For the first time since arriving in this strange place, some of his fear disappeared.
His expression gradually became serious.
“Why couldn’t my life ever become what I wanted?”
The darkness remained silent.
He continued.
“I know I wasn’t the most hardworking person.”
“I know I hesitated.”
“I know there were opportunities I probably failed to recognize.”
His fists tightened.
“But…”
“I wanted more.”
“I wanted to stand somewhere people could see me.”
“I wanted to create something.”
“I wanted to act.”
“I wanted to experience things.”
“I wanted my life to actually feel like…”
He struggled to find the words.
“…like it belonged to me.”
Silence followed.
Then the divine voice spoke.
“You believe the world denied you the life you desired.”
“Was I wrong?”
“Not entirely.”
He raised his head.
“But neither was the world entirely responsible.”
The words struck harder than he expected.
He couldn’t refute them.
God continued.
“You lacked opportunities.”
“You also abandoned some.”
“You lacked talent in places where you desired greatness.”
“You also surrendered before discovering where your true talents lay.”
“Fate closed doors before you.”
A pause.
“And sometimes, you closed them yourself.”
He remained silent.
There was no anger in the words.
That somehow made them harder to hear.
Finally, he smiled bitterly.
“So even after death I’m getting a life lecture.”
This time he could almost feel the divine presence laughing.
Then the darkness changed.
Stars appeared.
One.
Ten.
Thousands.
Millions.
An endless cosmic ocean spread around him.
He stared in wonder.
And the voice asked—
“Then answer me, child.”
The stars began moving.
“If I gave you another life…”
Galaxies passed before his eyes.
“If I gave you the opportunities you once desired…”
Something golden appeared in the distance.
“If I gave you talent…”
Another light appeared beside it.
“Status.”
More stars ignited.
“Family.”
His expression changed slightly.
“And the ability to reach heights your former self could scarcely imagine…”
The entire universe seemed to become silent.
“Would you truly live differently?”
He stared into infinity.
Then smiled.
Not bitterly.
Not regretfully.
For the first time in years, his smile contained something he thought he had lost.
Ambition.
“Give me the chance.”
His eyes became determined.
“And I’ll prove it.”
The stars erupted into light.
“Very well.”
Two golden spheres appeared before him.
The first was enormous, containing countless indistinguishable symbols.
The second transformed continuously.
A laughing face.
A crying face.
A king.
A beggar.
A warrior.
A murderer.
A saint.
A villain.
A hero.
An actor standing beneath the lights.
The young man stared.
“What are those?”
“Gifts.”
The first sphere entered him.
His consciousness shook.
A mechanical voice appeared within his mind.
[Heaven-Defying System bound successfully.]
His eyes widened.
“System?”
Before he could react—
The second sphere entered him.
[God-Level Acting System bound successfully.]
He stared blankly.
Then slowly looked upward.
“…Seriously?”
The divine presence said nothing.
“I die, meet God, get another life, and you’re giving me two systems?”
Silence.
“Isn’t this a little…”
He thought about every web novel he had ever encountered.
“…cliché?”
The stars seemed to flicker.
For some inexplicable reason, he felt as though God was amused.
He sighed.
“Fine.
I’m not complaining.”
Then his expression became curious.
“What can they do?”
“Discover that yourself.”
“Of course.”
He should have expected that answer.
The stars around him began fading.
“Wait!”
He suddenly remembered something.
“Where am I going?”
No answer.
“What world?”
Still nothing.
“At least tell me whether I’m going to be born rich or poor!”
The light intensified.
“Wait, wait!
That’s important!”
His consciousness began disappearing.
The last thing he heard was the divine voice.
“You asked for another opportunity.”
A warmth he couldn’t understand entered those words.
“Live this one without regret.”
Then everything vanished.
“Yichen!”
Someone was crying.
“Yichen, can you hear Mom?”
The young man’s consciousness returned violently.
His eyes snapped open.
White.
That was the first thing he saw.
A white ceiling.
Then several unfamiliar faces.
A beautiful middle-aged woman leaned over him, anxiety filling her eyes.
Behind her stood several people.
Doctors.
Nurses.
A tall man with an imposing presence.
Two beautiful young women.
And three younger figures—
No.
Two younger figures.
A boy and a girl.
His head throbbed.
Memories exploded through his mind.
He groaned.
“Yichen!”
The woman immediately grabbed his hand.
“Don’t move.”
She turned sharply.
“Doctor!”
The medical staff hurried forward.
Lights entered his eyes.
Questions followed.
Could he hear them?
Could he see clearly?
Did he know where he was?
His mind, however, was focused on one thing.
Yichen?
Who the hell was Yichen?
Then another wave of memories arrived.
Krishna.
His eyes widened.
That was him.
Krishna Vardhan.
But at the same time—
Li Yichen.
That was also him.
Two names.
One person.
Two identities that were somehow equally legitimate.
He stared at the woman holding his hand.
Mother.
The word emerged naturally from the memories.
His Chinese mother.
Another figure stepped closer.
The tall man.
His father.
Indian.
Krishna’s breathing slowed.
So I really transmigrated.
Then he remembered the two voices before awakening.
And those systems weren’t a hallucination.
“Krishna?”
Another voice came from the side.
One of the two young women stepped closer.
Unlike their mother’s use of Yichen, she had called him Krishna.
She looked composed, but the relief in her eyes betrayed her.
His eldest sister.
Before he could process that, the second elder sister folded her arms.
“He’s staring at us like he’s never seen us before.”
Their mother immediately glared at her.
“Don’t scare your brother.”
“I wasn’t scaring him.”
“You absolutely were.”
The younger boy squeezed between them.
“Bhai!”
And the youngest girl immediately followed.
“Gege!”
Krishna stared at them.
Bhai.
Gege.
Brother.
Indian and Chinese forms of address flowing through the same family as naturally as breathing.
His younger sister grabbed his hand.
His younger brother was already asking whether he remembered what happened.
His second elder sister was teasing him.
His eldest sister was telling everyone to give him space.
His mother was fussing over him.
His father stood silently nearby, but the tension finally leaving his shoulders revealed how worried he had been.
Krishna said nothing.
Something uncomfortable tightened inside his chest.
In his previous life, he had asked God why he could never have the life he desired.
He had expected wealth.
Talent.
Perhaps power.
Systems.
He hadn’t thought much about this.
A room filled with people terrified of losing him.
His fingers slowly closed around his little sister’s hand.
So this is my family.
A small smile appeared.
“Mom.”
The woman froze.
Then her eyes became wet.
Krishna immediately regretted saying it with so much emotion because she hugged him.
“Mom—”
His younger siblings joined.
Then his second sister.
“Hey!”
His eldest sister finally sighed and joined them.
Krishna was practically buried.
He looked helplessly toward his father.
The man stared at him.
Then deliberately looked away.
Krishna’s mouth twitched.
Traitor.
For the first time since awakening— he laughed.
Several hours later, the room had finally become quiet.
His family had reluctantly left after the doctors assured them he needed rest.
Krishna sat against the headboard.
A tablet rested in his hands.
He had already spent nearly an hour organizing the memories of his second life.
He had two elder sisters.
One younger brother.
One younger sister.
All five siblings possessed two names.
An Indian name.
And a Chinese name.
Both were legally recognized.
That had initially confused him.
So he opened the government identification application.
His digital identity appeared.
EASTERN FEDERATION — CITIZEN REGISTRY
Primary Registered Name: Krishna Vardhan
Secondary Registered Name: Li Yichen
Krishna stared.
“…Both are actually legal.”
He checked his siblings.
The same arrangement.
Their Indian names and Chinese names were both registered within the federal system.
Neither was an alias.
Neither was considered less official than the other.
Citizens belonging to mixed cultural families could legally register names according to multiple ancestral traditions.
“Interesting.”
Then his eyes stopped on something else.
Nationality: Eastern Federation.
Krishna frowned.
Eastern Federation?
His inherited memories knew the term perfectly.
Yet his previous life’s memories screamed that something was wrong.
He opened the browser.
His fingers moved.
India.
Search.
Krishna frowned.
Again.
Republic of India.
Nothing.
His heartbeat changed.
He typed rapidly.
People’s Republic of China.
Nothing.
Japan.
Nothing resembling the nation he remembered.
South Korea.
Again.
Pakistan.
Again.
Krishna slowly lowered the tablet.
“…What?”
He searched for a world map.
The screen changed.
And Krishna stopped breathing for several seconds.
Asia was completely different.
Borders he remembered didn’t exist.
Political structures had changed.
Regions that should have belonged to different sovereign nations existed beneath one enormous political entity.
THE EASTERN FEDERATION.
Krishna enlarged the map.
His eyes moved across it.
“This…”
His fingers trembled slightly.
“What happened to the world?”
His Heaven-Defying System suddenly seemed less important.
Even his God-Level Acting System was temporarily forgotten.
Krishna searched again.
This time for something closer to his heart.
Mahabharata.
Results appeared.
But—
“What?”
Fragments.
Academic references.
Disputed manuscripts.
Incomplete legends.
Nothing resembling the cultural giant he remembered.
His expression became serious.
Ramayana.
Again.
Fragmentary.
Different.
Incomplete.
Krishna changed direction.
Journey to the West.
His brows rose.
Nothing resembling the masterpiece from his previous world.
Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
Different.
Dream of the Red Chamber.
Nothing familiar.
He searched movies.
Music.
Novels.
Actors.
Directors.
Stories.
One search became ten.
Ten became fifty.
His breathing gradually accelerated.
The world wasn’t technologically primitive.
Quite the opposite.
It seemed more advanced than his previous Earth in several areas.
Entertainment existed.
Cinema existed.
Music existed.
Streaming existed.
Celebrities existed.
Massive film industries existed.
But history had taken different turns.
Cultures had developed differently.
Countless stories he remembered either didn’t exist— or existed only as broken shadows.
Krishna slowly placed the tablet on his knees.
Then a strange sound escaped him.
“Heh.”
Another.
“Hehehe…”
He covered his face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He had been given a God-Level Acting System.
And sent to a world missing countless cultural treasures from his previous life.
Coincidence?
Krishna looked toward the ceiling.
“Old man…”
No divine voice answered.
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
Silence.
Krishna smiled.
Fine.
He would figure it out himself.
He picked up the tablet again.
There was one more thing bothering him.
His family.
His memories told him they were powerful.
Very powerful.
But inherited memories and personally understanding something were different matters.
He typed:
Vardhan Family.
The search engine paused for less than a second.
Then hundreds of millions of results appeared.
Krishna blinked.
“…Huh?”
News.
Military reports.
Historical archives.
Economic reports.
Political analysis.
Universities.
Foundations.
Defense institutions.
His expression gradually became strange.
He opened the first encyclopedia result.
A phrase immediately caught his attention.
One of the Five Supreme Families of the Eastern Federation.
Krishna stopped.
“…Five what?”
He clicked the highlighted link.
A new page opened.
THE FIVE SUPREME FAMILIES
Five names appeared.
Five ancient lineages.
Five families whose influence had become inseparable from the formation, survival, and continued stability of the Eastern Federation.
Krishna’s eyes moved downward.
Then stopped.
VARDHAN-LI LINEAGE.
Silence.
He looked at the name.
Then at his citizen registry.
KRISHNA VARDHAN
LI YICHEN
Then back at the screen.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
[Ding!]
Krishna froze.
A translucent golden screen materialized before his eyes.
[God-Level Acting System initialization complete.]
Another screen appeared beside it.
[Heaven-Defying System synchronization complete.]
His room became silent.
Krishna stared at the two panels.
Then at the information about his family.
Then at the map of the Eastern Federation.
Pieces slowly connected inside his mind.
A second life.
A loving family.
A background that ordinary people couldn’t even dream of possessing.
A world where countless legendary works from his memories had disappeared—or had never been created.
And two systems.
One of them specifically dedicated to acting.
Krishna leaned back.
For several seconds, he didn’t speak.
Then he remembered his conversation in that endless darkness.
If I gave you another life…
Would you truly live differently?
Krishna looked through the hospital window.
Morning sunlight stretched across an unfamiliar city.
The world outside wasn’t his world.
The name on his identity wasn’t the name he had carried in his previous life.
His country no longer existed.
The history he remembered had changed.
Everything was unfamiliar.
And yet—
Krishna smiled.
In his previous life, he had always wondered what he could have become if life had given him another opportunity.
Now it had.
No.
It had given him far more than that.
His fingers closed around the tablet.
“All right.”
The two system interfaces reflected within his eyes.
Krishna Vardhan.
Li Yichen.
Both names belonged to him.
Both names were recognized by this world.
But someday—
He wanted neither name to be famous merely because of the family behind it.
He wanted people to walk into theaters because Krishna was on the poster.
He wanted millions to wait for Li Yichen’s next performance.
He wanted audiences who spoke different languages to laugh when he laughed, grieve when he cried, and forget for a few hours that the person on the screen was acting at all.
He wanted to stand beneath those lights himself.
Not as the heir of a Supreme Family.
Not because God had handed him another life.
But because he had finally done what his previous self never could.
Live it.
Krishna looked toward the rising sun.
His smile widened.
“Let’s see…”
“…how far I can go this time.”
[Welcome, Host.]
And somewhere within the enormous Eastern Federation, without anyone realizing it— the first page of a legend had just been written.