Transmigration into the beast world

Chapter 1: Graduation, Goodbye

Ding.

"Your cab has arrived."

Yuna squinted at her phone, the screen blurring into three. Or was it one? Who knew. The vodka shots were a bad idea—no, scratch that. The best idea. She was graduating. BTech, done. Four years of sleepless nights, vending machine coffee, and crying over code—done. She deserved this.

Her friends had begged her not to go alone, but she'd waved them off with a drunken grin.
"Relax! I'm a grown woman now," she'd laughed.

But now, standing in her heels at the curb, she wondered why the address on the app said something weird.

"Amazon forest? Hah. I'm hilarious."

The driver barely looked at her. Just gave her a thin smile. His breath smelled like smoke. His eyes lingered far too long in the rearview mirror.

Yuna felt a twinge in her gut. She should've said something. But her head was spinning, and her vision tunneled. The next hour was a blur.

They stopped.

She blinked. This... wasn't the city.

Thick trees loomed overhead like sentinels. The road had vanished, swallowed by jungle. Crickets sang in a deafening chorus. The air was heavy, humid, wrong.

"Get out," the driver said, voice low, oily.

Yuna hesitated. "Wait, this—this isn't my home—"

"Out." His voice turned sharp, impatient. He opened his door.

Panic clawed through her booze-addled brain. Her legs stumbled as she stepped out, gravel crunching beneath her heels. She heard the door shut behind her—and then... footsteps.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He was following her.

She turned—he was too close.

His eyes glinted with sick intent.

"Don't—don't come near me!" Her voice trembled.

"C'mon, pretty girl. You're far from home. No one's gonna hear you out here."

She ran.

Branches tore at her dress. Roots tried to trip her. Her breath hitched. Her lungs burned. She didn't look back. She couldn't.

He was behind her. Too fast. Too close.

Then—a flash of moonlight reflected on something ahead.

Water.

A river.

No thinking. No planning. She jumped.

The cold hit her like a slap. Her body seized. The current pulled her. Her limbs flailed, fighting to swim—but the booze and fear dragged her down like anchors.

I'm going to die, she realized.

On my graduation night.

She hadn't even hugged her mother goodbye. She hadn't sent in that internship application. She hadn't kissed anyone. Not really.

"I don't want to die," she gasped.

But the river didn't care.

The world went dark.