After I was done with my business, I covered it with some dirt and walked back to the ship. Of course, I didn’t forget to wash my hands. The water did sting a bit though. The sanitizer mixed in it must’ve been a rather strong one.

Lilia was preparing to go out. She said the morning is the time she uses to gather fruits, since the most dangerous beasts are still asleep. When I asked why she doesn’t store some instead of gathering them everyday she explained that she does that only when making the rations.

Apparently, despite being an uncharted, Gorgola has animals and vegetation that could be found on other planets. One theory is that most of them were brought here during the attempts to study the planet, which ended up in failure before they could even start. But seeing how there is that lab she found me in it’s more reasonable to blame it on the ones who built it.

Anyway, I was reluctant to stay behind so I offered to help her out. She shut me down, saying I would only get in the way. That did hurt, but it’s still true. In the end she left after warning me to not leave the camp. I didn't need her to tell me though. Im not stupid enough to wonder into this jungle. Who know what freaky space beasts would jump out of the woods. 

Now that I was left all alone there isn’t much I can do. Lilia wouldn’t be happy if I messed around with her stuff so the ship was a no go. That leaves only one option, trying to discover the limits of this new body.

I stretched, did some push ups, some sit-ups, run around the ship, then repeated. I felt a hint of tiredness by the third round. I did three sets of three thousands push ups and sit-ups and ran the same number of rounds around the edge of the clearing.

It actually felt really good. I somehow get why all those meatheads bother with this torture everyday.

It’s perfect… but something feels off...I thought that as I leaned my back on the ship.

This would be a good time to start getting nervous. I wasn’t into sports in my previous life so I don’t know the standards, but I think being able to do this much is quite impressive.

From the little I can remember I have a vague idea of how I lived through my days before those lizard aliens attacked. I would wake up, go to school, suffer, return home, watch anime and play my games, go to sleep, then repeat. That was my routine until I was forced to quit school. I don’t remember the cause but after it happened there was a lot less suffering and a lot more anime and games.

As I stretched and flexed my muscles I started to feel some delight at this new body I was blessed with. It doesn’t take a genius to comprehend my previous lifestyle would never give me one percent, no, not even 0.0001% of this ideal male body.

“So this is what they call transmigration. Should I feel bad for stealing this body from its previous owner?”

I’ve read a few novels online about such situations. Usually the previous owner is just irrelevant, having no effect on the story. Sometimes it’s the opposite with the new owner having to live that person’s life and fix what was wrong with it. I guess I’m more of the former since from what I’ve seen so far this body’s previous owner was just a lab rat abandoned on an uninhabited planet.

It would be funny to scroll down a web-novel site and find something like “that time I got transmigrated into a lab rat on an uninhabited planet”. It would be even funnier if its actually good. Those novels tend to be carbon copies of each other with no innovation.

Nah, there is no way I’m just a character in some poorly written novel.

A new life in another world, huh?

My luck shouldn’t be this good, that’s why I still have doubts about all of this. Perhaps it’s just a really strange part of hell? 

If I take what happens in those fictional stories as an example, since I suffered too much in my old life I would have a blast in this one. However I can’t let myself get too optimistic, because other worlds don’t always mean harems and unlimited power.

In the first place this isn’t a fantasy where swords and magic exist. It’s more of sci-fi setting. No one said it always has to be medieval Europe with Gandalf, but I would really like to have some Jedi powers if I can’t get the usual skills and magic set.

I should look for a way to build my strength either way. I do wish for a quiet life but I don’t want to be unprepared for the worst. Wait, that’s not the problem here. What I should be thinking about is if I want to return home or not?

I don’t want to, obviously. If things work well with that gorgeous blond alien then what would I need to return for? I doubt we would stay here forever, though I honestly wouldn’t mind if we did.

I would like to do something about my memories too. I still feel conflicted about whether I want them or not, but maybe having them would make things more convenient.

I slowly slid down to the ground.

Nope, nothing at all. I don’t feel a single thing. Isn’t memory loss supposed to cause major panic attacks? I feel as calm as a bunch of sleeping kittens. Right now this matter only feels like a small inconvenience. How can I be this cool headed even thought I don’t remember my name? If it’s going to be like this, wouldn’t I be better off not remembering anything from the start?

I slowly breath in the clear air, a light breeze passes by at the perfect time, like it was waiting behind the corner for that moment to add some dramatic effect.

Hm?

Strands of hair fell down on my face. Was my hair always this long?

It’s… black?

“Come to think of it I have yet to see what my new face looks like..."

I think my IQ isn’t that high after all. I was too intrigued by my new body that I forgot to take a look at my new face.

There weren’t any mirrors inside the ship and I couldn’t bring myself to ask Lilia. A beautiful girl like her probably has one somewhere, maybe she uses one of the ship’s devices? Why bother with normal mirrors when you can use sci-fi tech?

I went around the ship hoping the windshield could provide a good reflection. For a shipwreck the scene painted here is quite impressing. All the dirt and dust that accumulated, the crater created by the impact, the scratches on the metallic surface. It’s like a really good scene from a high budget movie, or a game with RTX on.

It must’ve been a really sturdy ship if it survived a crash landing with just this much damage. But the more I look at it the more I feel that there is something strange. It came to my mind last night that the interior is strangely organized for something that fell from outer space.

The windshield to be exact. There are a few scratches here and there but aside from that there was nothing that resembles an impact point. Not even a small crack.

Did the ones that made it use some high quality materials for that part alone? For something see-through it’s impressively durable.

Anyways, back to the main topic. I took what water was left in the container Lilia gave me before and splashed it on the front glass. The dirt and dust were cleaned and I got the pseudo mirror every man on an uncivilized planet needs. I took a deep breath, lowered my expectations and opened my eyes.

The shock was unimaginable.

The face it reflected was none other than mine. Of course it would be. I’m the one looking at my reflection after all. But that wasn’t the point here.

What I’m seeing is my face. The same face I saw thousands, maybe millions of times before. Same eyes, same eyebrows, same nose, same mouth. Everything was the same. My hair was long but it’s still the jet black color I know, and I have a… beard?

“Oookkaaayy….”

Just hold on a goddamn second… What the fuck is going on here?

Everything. Except for the thin beard and long hair everything is the same as what I saw everyday while brushing my teeth, when I washed my hands or when I lamented the depressing state I was in.

Stepping back I took another look at myself. The body is different but the face is still the same. I feel like my brain is about to burst.

“… I need to shave this.”

I will know for sure when there is a lot less hair, but I don’t really need any more confirmation. This is the face I had all along, which means I didn’t really die or get transmigrated.

No, there is more than one way to interpret this. Just because I have the same face doesn’t mean I survived a hole through the stomach.

But what if I did? First I need to… huh? I’m… calm?…. huh?

Something isn’t right. How am I not panicking after this? Why do I still have the same face? Does this mean it’s the same body? Why can’t I remember my name if I’m able to recognize my own face?

Even though I asked myself those questions again and again, I couldn’t find any answers to them, nor did I feel anything from not being able to. I feel indifferent, almost as if I don’t care.

That’s right. I’m only asking myself those questions because it’s the logical thing to do. Same thing for my face. It’s a bit regrettable that I didn’t get a new, more handsome one, but I can live with it.

Having amnesia probably didn’t do much to my personality, which is the most regrettable part about this. I’m not a completely different individual, but I can still start my life from scratch. I just need to put in more effort this time.