"Ten million gold coins."
"Twenty million gold coins."
"Sold!"
A roar of chatter erupted from the crowd, filling the air with an overwhelming noise that made my head pound. My expression twisted into irritation, though my eyes remained shut. My entire body felt heavy, my head throbbing as if I had been hit by a truck.
Wait! hadn't I jumped into the river with that thug because of that damn truck? Shouldn't I be dead?
Then where the hell am I?
Is this the afterlife? But if it is, why is it so loud? Shouldn't heaven be peaceful? Or is this hell?
I thought hell was supposed to be scorching hot, yet I didn't feel any unbearable heat. My mind raced but I soon felt a sharp tug on my neck which sent a jolt through my body.
What the...?
Something was around my neck. I tried to move, but my limbs were stiff, numb.
Is that… a collar?
A collar?!
Who the hell dared to put a collar on me?!
My anger flared instantly. My eyes flew open, and I snapped my head up, ready to curse at whoever had the audacity to leash me like a damn animal...
And then my voice died in my throat.
Hundreds of people sat in rows of lavish chairs, their gazes fixed on me with an unsettling mix of interest and amusement. A man beside me held the end of the leash connected to my collar, standing with a smug sense of authority. My body stiffened further as a horrifying realization struck me.
I was laying down on the floor, weak and covered in bruises. I was even weaker than when I was on Earth. Models are expected to eat in smaller proportion hence that explains how slim and fragile I am.
I was also naked.
What. The. Fuck.
My gaze darted around the grand hall, my breath quickening as I took in the others kneeling beside me. Men and women alike, stripped of clothing, each with the same humiliating collar around their necks.
What the hell is going on here?!
Before I could scream or demand answers, a thick black sack was shoved over my head, plunging me into darkness. I barely had time to react before a rough hand grabbed me, lifting me like I weighed nothing and tossing me over a broad shoulder.
"Let me go, you bastard!" I struggled, but my weak limbs refused to obey.
No response. Only the steady, heavy footsteps of my captor carrying me away.
Am I going to be killed now? Is this some twisted execution ritual?
Panic clawed at my chest. My mind spun with possibilities, each one worse than the last. Then another thought hit me, one equally terrifying.
Did my crazy fans kidnap me?!
This can't be happening. I should have just died in that damn river!
The ride was rough. I could tell we were in a vehicle, moving fast, because my body kept slamming against the sides. The bag over my head only added to my growing nausea. When the vehicle finally screeched to a stop, I barely had time to brace myself before that same brute of a man yanked me up again and carried me a short distance.
Then, without warning, he dropped me.
Hard.
A sharp, pained groan escaped my lips as my bare skin smacked against a cold, unyielding floor.
"Easy!" I finally snapped, wincing as I tried to push myself up. I had been quiet until now, hoping to assess the situation before opening my mouth, but enough was enough. My ass had taken too many beatings in one day.
The sack was ripped off my head.
I blinked rapidly as harsh white light flooded my vision. My eyes adjusted just in time to see a burly man standing before me. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in black pants and a tight black shirt that stretched over his muscular frame. A long scar ran down the right side of his face, twisting his already menacing expression. But what caught my attention most was the dagger in his hand, the dagger currently pointed at my throat.
"Keep your mouth shut, or I'll slit your throat right here," he said, his voice cold and sharp as steel.
A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard and nodded slowly.
Satisfied, he stepped back, though his dark eyes never left me.
What the hell is going on?
I scanned my surroundings quickly. The room was stark white, pristine and empty except for a few men standing in the distance, watching me like a predator observes prey. I was sitting at the center, the damn collar around my neck securing my humiliating position.
Why does this scene feel familiar though?
My mind raced, searching for an explanation. Have I filmed a scene like this before? I've acted in so many movies, maybe this is just déjà vu.
Then it hit me.
A tidal wave of memories surged through my mind, crashing into me with such force that I clutched my head and screamed. It felt like my skull was splitting open, my very existence unraveling into a chaotic mess of unfamiliar yet familiar images.
And just as quickly as the pain came, it vanished.
I barely had time to catch my breath before a heavy boot swung toward me.
Pain exploded across my face.
"Are you deaf, slut?!" Scarface bellowed, his voice laced with fury. "I told you to keep your mouth shut!"
I groaned, tasting blood as I pressed my palms against the cold floor, trying to lift myself up.
The punch he landed on my face was the least of my worries. I had far more pressing concerns. The scar-faced man, seeing that I had gone silent, walked away once again.
I'm no longer on Earth? Am I perhaps transmigrated?
Why do I have these memories of an Omegaverse world? A dystopian world where an apocalypse wiped out most of humanity, leaving only a structured society where Omegas had the highest breeding rate. Because of this, they were bought by Alphas like commodities, treated as disposable breeding machines to repopulate the world. And now… I'm one of the characters.
A weak, insignificant Omega, looked down upon his entire life.
The pathetic protagonist.
No. No. No. This isn't right. I must have acted too many movies and watched many that I'm now thinking about transmigration when I don't even know if I'm about to die?!
Am I like this because I miss my career?
I let out a scoff, trying to shake the absurdity of my thoughts. But just then, the door to the room swung open. My gaze instinctively lifted from the floor and I froze.
"Oh my goodness, you're here too?!" I blurted out, my voice echoing in the silent room.
There, standing before me, was the same thug I had met earlier at the bridge. He was dressed in black pants and a crisp white shirt. The scorpion tattoos that had covered his arms before were now replaced with… wolves? Or were they dogs? I couldn't tell.
But what unsettled me the most was his expression, cold, unreadable, as if he didn't recognize me at all.
A burly guard placed a chair down for him, and he sat without a word.
Alfie.
That's what he had called himself back at the bridge, before everything turned to chaos.
He leaned forward, his rough fingers cupping my chin as he inspected my face. His dark eyes studied me with the intensity of someone examining an object for flaws. Then, without a word, he released me, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his fingers as if ridding himself of filth.
What the hell is wrong with this thug?!
I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief.
Does he know about all this? Is that why he approached me at the bridge? Could he actually be the boss of the so-called organization he mentioned and only pretended to be a low-level thug?!
Such a motherfucker!
"You're aware of this bullshit, aren't you?" I finally asked as I couldn't hold it in anymore, my lips curling into a smirk. "What do you want? Money?"
Alfie didn't answer me. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward the scar-faced man.
"Bring him to my room," he ordered casually. "I'll have him first before my brothers."
Damn! This shit head just ignored me. And i'll have him first before my brothers? What the hell does he mean by that?!
He stood, ready to leave, but before he could take a step, I grabbed his leg.
The moment my fingers made contact with his leg, a strange sensation surged through me, like something was being ripped from my very core. My vision blurred. My breath hitched. A wave of dizziness overtook me, and for a brief moment, everything around me spun wildly out of control.
And then....
I wasn't looking up at Alfie anymore.
I was looking down… at myself.
"What the fuck is going on?!" A thunderous voice erupted through the room. It came from my own body, my weak, beaten form sprawled on the floor.
Before he...no, before I could react any further, the guards moved instantly, their heavy boots colliding with my former body in swift, brutal kicks.
I should've been feeling pain.
But I wasn't.
Because I wasn't in my body anymore.
I glanced down at my hands, flexing my fingers. My body felt different. Heavier. Stronger. More… controlled.
Am I in the thug's body?
Did we…
Did we just switch souls?!