Chapter 1 — Transmigration
Deep within distant mountains, where the air was thin and the world rarely stirred, an old man sat alone.
Cold wind drifted across the barren peaks, yet he remained motionless. His long white beard rested against his chest, and a pale robe draped loosely over his frail body. Sitting cross-legged upon the stone ground, he appeared almost like part of the mountain itself.
His breathing was slow and steady, almost merging with the stillness of the mountains. Then—
his body jerked violently.
His eyes snapped open.
Blood spilled from his lips as he coughed. But the pain in his chest was nothing compared to the terror widening his eyes.
“Disaster…”
His voice trembled.
“Disaster… is coming…”
The mountains gave no reply.
No one heard him.
The coughing continued, each breath growing weaker than the last. His lungs struggled for air until eventually—
everything stopped.
Silence returned to the mountains.
Yet within the fading fragments of his vision, he saw something.
A figure.
Standing in the center of a carnival of ruin.
A mask.
A long jester’s crown with bells hanging from its tips.
And laughter.
Not joyful laughter.
Something darker.
A promise.
Laughter would become terror.
And the world—
would become his stage.
The old man’s eyes remained open.
Fear frozen within them.
And somewhere far away, beneath a sky that had never seen those mountains—
something answered.
Night had already fallen over Shining City.
In a narrow alley between crumbling buildings, the stench of garbage hung thick in the air. Only a faint streetlight reached the ground, leaving most of the passage drowned in shadow.
Beside a rusted dumpster, a man lay sprawled across the cold pavement.
His body twitched slightly.
“Ugh…”
His voice was weak.
“Where am I?”
Jack forced his eyes open. Everything felt numb. His limbs were heavy, his mind clouded with confusion.
“Why is it so cold…?”
He tried to move.
His body barely obeyed.
Wasn’t I resting in my room?
Why am I here?
Slowly, he pushed himself upright and leaned against the wall for support. The surroundings were completely unfamiliar.
“No… no…”
“This has to be a dream.”
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He raised his hand and slapped his face.
Weak.
Barely any force.
Jack stared at his palm.
“…Should I smash my head into something?”
He paused.
“…Better not.”
Dragging himself forward, he crawled toward the alley entrance. Each movement felt exhausting, and his breathing grew heavier with every inch.
When he finally reached the sidewalk, his legs still refused to stand.
At that same moment, a young man walked down the street carrying a convenience store bag.
The road was empty, the streetlights were dim.
And the silence—
unsettling.
“Why did I have to buy the alcohol…”
He muttered under his breath.
“Just because I screamed louder during the horror movie…”
Then he heard something.
A faint sound from the alley.
He froze.
“What was that?”
A long pause followed.
“Probably nothing…”
His voice trembled.
He continued walking.
The sound came again.
Closer.
Curiosity slowly overpowered fear.
The young man froze.
His brain screamed one word.
Ghost.
Run.
Instead—
he charged forward.
“GHOST!!”
Dropkick.
Impact.
The crawling figure flew backward and slammed into a trash bin.
Silence followed.
The young man blinked several times.
“…That’s not a ghost.”
“It’s a human!”
His face paled instantly.
“Ah… what have I done?!”
Panic flooded his mind. He rushed forward and tried shaking the unconscious man.
No response.
Then he quickly grabbed his phone.
“Alex? Why are you calling so late?”
The young man explained everything in a frantic rush.
For several seconds, the person on the other end said nothing.
Then—
anger exploded through the phone.
“You damn brat…”
“Stay there.”
“I’m coming.”
The call ended.
Shining City Private Hospital.
Recovery Room.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
Jack slowly opened his eyes.
A young man stood beside the hospital bed, bowing repeatedly. Next to him stood an older man wearing a doctor’s coat.
Memories resurfaced in Jack’s mind.
The alley.
The scream.
The dropkick.
His eyelid twitched slightly.
It would have been fine if you ran away.
Why dropkick me while yelling “ghost”?!
Before Jack could say anything, the doctor spoke first.
“I sincerely apologize.”
He sighed and gestured toward the young man.
“My nephew is… troublesome.”
“We will compensate you. You won’t have to pay for your treatment.”
He handed Jack a thick envelope.
Jack stared at it.
His fingers twitched slightly.
The weight felt…
reassuring.
Suddenly the pain in his chest felt a little more reasonable.
“Ahem…”
Jack coughed lightly.
“It’s fine.”
“People panic.”
“Just don’t do it again.”
He slid the envelope under his pillow.
Awkward laughter followed.
Even so, his chest continued to ache. A dull, persistent pain spread across his ribs—the lingering reminder of that sudden dropkick.
Yet his thoughts were already drifting elsewhere.
The scream replayed in his mind.
Loud.
Sharp.
Well projected.
Jack stared at the ceiling thoughtfully.
“Good lungs…”
The thought surfaced unexpectedly.
“If he wasn’t such a coward…”
He paused.
“He’d make a decent circus barker.”
The image almost amused him.
A man shouting loudly—not in fear, but to gather crowds.
To announce a show.
Instead, that voice had announced a dropkick that nearly sent him back to the afterlife.
“Doctor… where am I?”
“Shining City Private Hospital,” the doctor replied.
“It’s part of the Starlight Federation.”
Jack blinked.
“…America?”
Doctor Richard frowned slightly.
“What is America?”
Jack waited for the punchline.
None came.
Silence filled the room.
Jack’s mind slowly went blank.
The doctor sighed.
“You should rest for now.”
The two visitors soon left.
The door closed behind them.
Silence returned.
Jack continued staring at the ceiling.
Then his gaze shifted slowly toward the IV beside his bed.
But it wasn’t a normal IV bag.
Instead of a transparent pouch filled with liquid, a glowing blue canister hovered beside the bed. Soft light pulsed inside it, rhythmically.
It hummed quietly.
Like a machine breathing.
Above him, a small holographic display flickered into existence. Strange symbols scrolled across its surface, hovering in midair.
Heartbeat.
Blood pressure.
Perhaps more.
But the characters were completely unfamiliar.
Alien.
Jack stared at them quietly.
This wasn’t a dream.
Memories began flowing into his mind.
The name of this body.
Jack.
An orphan.
Just like before.
Then the truth surfaced.
The original owner had died.
Because he overheard something.
A phone call.
The wrong moment.
The wrong place.
He had been silenced.
Strangled.
Jack’s body shuddered as fragments of memory resurfaced.
Ozone.
Burning lungs.
Searing heat.
The attacker hadn’t held a weapon.
He had been the weapon.
Cold sweat formed on Jack’s forehead.
This world—
was not simple.
It was a battlefield.
Even now, lying in a clean hospital bed beneath sterile white light, Jack could still taste the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth.
His own blood.
Mixed with the faint scent of burnt hair.
The memory lingered.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
The sheets were soft.
The room quiet.
Safe.
Yet his lungs still remembered the burning.
If this world was a battlefield…
then he had just woken up unarmed.
And just as fear began creeping into his mind—
Suddenly, Jack heard laughter.
It was a wild, uncontrolled laugh..
“Who’s there?”
[Ding…]
The notification did not simply appear.
It burst.
Like a balloon popping inside his vision.
Fragments of light scattered outward like digital confetti, spinning and flickering at the edges of his sight. For a brief moment, the hospital room behind it blurred beneath the shimmering fragments.
It was strangely festive.
Almost absurd.
Like applause echoing in a graveyard.
[Detecting Host…]
[Installing System…]
“…A system?”
Jack slapped his face again.
Still real.
Excitement surged through him.
Alright then.
Give me the strongest system ever.
[Installation Complete]
[Welcome to the Best Professional Clown System]
[As a Welcome Gift, the Host has received a Beginner Reward Pack]
Jack blinked.
Then he laughed weakly.
“Hahaha… wait.”
“…What?”
