The heavy click of the hospital door closing left the room instantly quiet.
Rohan stared at the blank white wall, listening to the fading rhythm of his parents' footsteps. They were heading down to the billing department to finalize his discharge papers.
Finally, he was alone.
*Now that I have some time, I need to figure out what these memories actually are,* Rohan thought.
A strange cocktail of excitement and cold dread pooled in his stomach. The sheer absurdity of his situation made his pulse spike, buzzing erratically under his skin.
He leaned his head back against the stiff hospital pillow and closed his eyes. Taking a slow, measured breath, he forced his mind to go still, turning his focus inward.
Deep within his consciousness, the unfamiliar memories lay waiting like a coiled spring.
He plunged into them, observing the foreign timeline. It belonged to a boy exactly his age, but the world he inhabited was entirely alien.
It was a realm governed by superpowers. In that world, anyone could unlock an extraordinary ability simply by consuming a specialized awakening potion.
Those who successfully unlocked their potential were known as New Humans.
The civilization this boy belonged to was vastly superior to Rohan's own. It wasn't just a slight edge; their technology existed on an entirely different evolutionary plane.
Vivid images flashed behind Rohan's eyelids, offering clear examples of that world's might.
With the aid of individuals possessing space-related abilities, interstellar travel and cosmic science had leaped forward by thousands of years.
Geniuses with enhanced mental faculties—super-brains—could single-handedly advance global technology by decades within a single lifetime.
Even material science had broken through all known barriers, thanks to individuals who could synthesize and manipulate matter at a molecular level.
That civilization hadn't just dreamed of the stars. They had already conquered and colonized multiple planets.
The memories cut off abruptly at the age of twenty-three. The boy had died violently, the casualty of a sudden spacecraft malfunction.
Rohan felt a profound sense of awe settle deep in his chest. If that boy had lived to old age, that civilization would have undoubtedly conquered entire galaxies in record time.
A small, ambitious thought sparked in his mind. If his own world kept progressing down its current path, could they achieve a similar level of greatness?
But amid the wonder, a glaring, frustrating question remained.
Why had a brutal hit from a thug like Skullcrusher unlocked the memories of a completely different person?
Rohan had absolutely no connection to that distant world or the dead boy. It made zero logical sense.
He pondered the mystery for several long minutes, ruling out impossibility after impossibility. For a moment, a wave of existential panic hit him. Who was he? Was he Rohan, or was he a dead astronaut?
But as he looked closer, the panic faded into total clarity. Only one conclusion remained.
These memories belonged to his own past life.
The realization didn't feel crazy; in fact, it felt undeniably right.
When he actively recalled those alien events, they didn't feel like a movie he was watching or a story he had read. They didn't feel like they belonged to a stranger.
They felt intimately, entirely his. The grief, the triumph, the knowledge—it was all as much a part of him as his own childhood.
More importantly, the connection wasn't just mental.
Rohan opened his eyes and glanced at the small mirror mounted on the opposite wall. His reflection stared back, but his dark hair was shifting, strands lifting and swaying completely on their own.
He focused his mind, locking his gaze on a single stray lock of hair near his forehead. *Move left,* he commanded.
The strand immediately swept to the left, obeying his silent will with fluid, effortless precision.
The superpower he had inherited from his past life was Perfect Control.
He could manipulate every single fiber, muscle, and biological process within his own body with absolute accuracy.
To test it further, Rohan focused on his chest. His heart was hammering at a frantic pace from the excitement.
*Slow down,* he commanded internally.
Instantly, his pulse decelerated. He felt the rapid thumping steady into a calm, athletic rhythm.
Next, he focused on the dull, throbbing ache in his shoulder where Skullcrusher had slammed into him. It wasn't broken, but the bruising was deep.
With a thought, he commanded the local nerves to stop firing pain signals. The throbbing vanished completely, replaced by a soothing numbness.
Rohan swung his legs out of bed and stood up so fast his hospital gown fluttered.
Suddenly, a realization clicked in his mind. He finally understood why his mother and father hadn't noticed anything amiss when they were in the room earlier.
He had been unconsciously using his new power to suppress his natural body language, keeping his micro-expressions and panic perfectly hidden.
If he hadn't, his parents' own formidable powers would have easily picked up on his internal turmoil. They would have known instantly that something was deeply wrong with their son.
In his previous life, a utility ability like Perfect Control might not have been considered a major deal. It wasn't a flashy, destructive power.
But in this world, where entirely different energy systems and powers existed, this ability was a golden ticket.
A sharp grin spread across his face. The grueling martial arts training he had been desperately struggling with for years?
Before today, he couldn't even get his stance right. His muscles never obeyed, his balance was always off, and his breathing rhythm was a mess. Martial arts had felt completely out of reach.
It would be a walk in the park now. With Perfect Control, he could replicate any physical movement flawlessly on the very first try.
Slowly mastering his excitement, Rohan let out a long breath and sat back down on the edge of the mattress. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and began mindlessly scrolling through his notifications to ground himself.
The screen suddenly lit up, vibrating aggressively in his palm.
The caller ID displayed a single name: **Riya**.
Rohan swiped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. Before he could even say hello, a sharp, familiar voice blasted through the speaker.
"Hey, loser! My dad says you got beaten up by some thug."
Rohan’s mouth twitched. He pulled the phone away for a fraction of a second, staring at it in mild disbelief. *Seriously? Is this the only way she knows how to check up on someone's health?*
He cleared his throat, a mischievous glint entering his eyes.
"Yes, I got beaten up," Rohan said, his voice entirely deadpan, dripping with manufactured gravity. "But it's no big deal. Only a few of my bones are shattered, and I’ve only lost a few unimportant memories."
"Wait, what?" Riya’s voice lost its mocking edge, instantly turning sharp with worry. "Shattered bones? Uncle said you just had a few bruises!"
"Doctors always downplay these things to avoid panic," Rohan lied smoothly, biting his lower lip to keep from bursting out laughing. He paused, letting the heavy silence hang over the line for maximum dramatic effect.
"By the way... who exactly are you, miss?" he asked.
Absolute, suffocating silence greeted him from the other end of the line.
Then, a faint, trembling voice cracked through the receiver. "You... you don't remember me? I'm the daughter of your Uncle Arjun and Aunt Anita!"
"Oh, I remember Uncle Arjun and Aunt Anita perfectly," Rohan replied, keeping his tone as stark and serious as a funeral director's. "But I'm completely certain they don't have a daughter. If they did, how could I ever forget someone so important?"
Another heavy, stunned silence stretched across the line. Rohan could practically hear her brain short-circuiting through the speaker.
He couldn't hold it in anymore. The absurdity of her panic broke his concentration, and he burst into loud, echoing laughter, his shoulders shaking.
Hearing his roaring laughter, Ria instantly realized she had been played.
The silence on the other end evaporated, replaced by pure, unadulterated fury. "You jerk! You absolute idiot! I actually felt sorry for you for a second!"
"Admit it, you care about me," Rohan teased, still chuckling.
"Just you wait!" Ria snapped, her voice lifting an octave in sheer annoyance. "I'm coming to your house tomorrow, and I will personally show you what happens to people who joke about broken bones!"
The line went completely dead before he could reply.