When I finally arrived home, the front door creaked softly as I pushed it open, the sound stretching faintly into the quiet interior. A familiar warmth greeted me immediately, along with the lingering scent of cooked food—simple, comforting, and painfully ordinary. For a moment, I just stood there at the entrance, letting that feeling sink in. It had been so long since something like this felt real.
Inside, my parents and siblings were already there.
They turned toward me almost at the same time, their attention landing on me with subtle synchronicity. My mother stood near the table, her arms loosely crossed, her brows slightly furrowed—not angry, but concerned in a way only she could be. My father sat quietly, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes remained sharp and observant, as if he was silently measuring everything about me. My siblings, on the other hand, looked at me with open curiosity, their expressions far less guarded.
"Where did you go?" my mother asked, her voice steady, firm—but not harsh.
For a brief moment, my thoughts stalled. There were too many answers I could give… and none of them were safe. The truth was too complicated, too unbelievable, and far too dangerous to share.
So instead, I smiled lightly, forcing ease into my expression as I scratched the back of my head.
"I just went out to exercise," I replied, keeping my tone casual, almost lazy, as if nothing about today was out of the ordinary.
They watched me for a second longer than I liked.
Then, just as quietly as the tension had formed—it disappeared.
They nodded.
No further questions.
No suspicion.
Just trust.
"…Good," I muttered inwardly, already moving past them.
I headed straight for the bathroom, needing distance, needing space.
The tiles felt cold beneath my feet as I stepped inside. I turned the faucet, and the steady rush of water filled the small room, drowning out everything else. I leaned forward and splashed my face, the cold biting against my skin, forcing my thoughts to settle.
Then I looked up.
At my reflection.
Same face.
Same life.
But everything had already changed.
There was something different in my eyes now—something sharper, heavier… as if I was carrying memories that didn't belong to this version of me.
"…I'm really back," I whispered.
That evening, we gathered around the table for dinner.
The atmosphere was calm—almost unnaturally so. Plates clinked softly as they were set down, utensils scraping lightly against ceramic, filling the silence in small, repetitive rhythms. My siblings talked about random things—school, friends, trivial moments that once felt important. My parents responded occasionally, their voices steady, grounded, keeping the conversation alive.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
I found myself watching them.
Really watching them.
Memorizing the way my mother spoke, the way my father listened, the way my siblings laughed without a care in the world. They were all here. Safe. Alive. Unaware of how fragile all of this truly was.
For a brief moment, I considered telling them.
About the lottery.
About the money waiting for me.
About the impossible stroke of luck that could change everything for us.
My lips parted slightly as the thought formed.
But I stopped.
"…No."
Not yet.
Saying it now would only bring unnecessary attention—questions I couldn't answer, suspicions I couldn't control, and worst of all, greed from people beyond this house. I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
So instead, I lowered my gaze, picked up my utensils, and continued eating in silence.
After dinner, I went straight to my room.
The moment I lay down, the wooden bed greeted me with its usual harshness. The surface was hard, unyielding, a constant reminder of the life I was currently living. It wasn't comfortable—not even close.
Nothing like before.
A faint smile crept onto my lips as memories surfaced, uninvited but persistent.
"…Yeah…"
"That life…"
Back in college, my world had been small. A few friends, nothing more. One relationship—something I thought would last longer than it did. But in the end, it wasn't betrayal that ended it.
It was reality.
I was poor.
Too poor to keep up with expectations I couldn't even meet halfway. I couldn't afford proper dates, couldn't give her the kind of life she wanted, and slowly, that gap grew wider until it became something neither of us could ignore.
And just like that
She was gone.
Leaving me with nothing but silence.
"…Pathetic," I muttered under my breath.
But that was before.
Now
Everything was different.
I stared at the ceiling, my eyes slowly sharpening as a new clarity settled in.
"I have a second chance…"
The words carried weight.
More than I expected.
A new goal began forming—not something small, not something safe.
Something bigger.
Something demanding.
Something… worth chasing.
Winning that money was only the beginning.
It wasn't the end goal.
It was the first step.
My thoughts began to race, moving faster and faster as ideas formed one after another. Business opportunities, investment paths, timing, risk management—scenarios overlapped inside my mind, each one building on the last.
I kept thinking.
And thinking.
And thinking—
Until suddenly—
I stopped.
Something didn't feel right.
A small inconsistency.
A detail that didn't align with what I remembered.
My eyes widened slightly.
"…Wait…"
Without hesitation, I sat up and reached for a notebook. My movements were quick, urgent, driven by a sudden realization that made my chest tighten.
"I need to write everything…"
Before it fades.
Before I lose it.
Before the future becomes uncertain again.
I grabbed a pen and started writing.
The scratching sound echoed softly in the quiet room as page after page began to fill. I wrote everything I could remember—future events, lottery numbers, political shifts, economic changes, national crises, even international conflicts. No detail was too small, no memory too insignificant.
This was my advantage.
My only advantage.
"…My cheat code," I whispered, almost breathlessly.
Time slipped away without notice. The night deepened, the world outside falling into silence, but I didn't stop. From 8:00 PM until 4:00 AM, I kept writing, pushing through the fatigue, forcing my mind to recall everything it could.
By the end, my hand felt heavy, my fingers stiff, my eyes burning from exhaustion.
But the pages—
Were filled.
I leaned back slowly, exhaling as the tension finally left my body.
"…That should be enough… for now."
I stood up, my body feeling drained, as if everything inside me had been poured into those pages. Slowly, I made my way back to the bed and let myself fall onto its hard surface.
And just like that—
Sleep took me.
The dream came again.
Violent.
Unforgiving.
The soldier's voice rang in my ears, desperate and urgent, warning me to move—but it was already too late. The explosion tore through everything, the same horrifying scene repeating itself with cruel precision. Flesh, blood, fragments—nothing changed. No matter how many times I saw it, the outcome remained the same.
Merciless.
Unavoidable.
Like fate itself refusing to bend.
I woke up with a yawn, my body slightly tense, my breathing uneven.
"That was such a shitty dream…" I muttered, rubbing my face.
But deep down, I knew better.
"I keep seeing those realities…"
My gaze hardened as I sat up.
"…Then I'll just have to change them."
After getting ready, I quickly dressed in my uniform—a deep blue polo neatly fitted, the school logo stitched on the right, a patch on the left, and my nameplate resting against my chest. Everything looked the same as before, but I wasn't the same person wearing it.
When I stepped outside, the house was already empty. My siblings had gone ahead to school, and my parents had left for work.
Then it hit me.
"…I don't have money."
I froze mid-step, frustration immediately creeping in.
"Oh mannn… I forgot to ask for my allowance…"
I ran a hand through my hair, groaning quietly.
"What the hayst…"
Then suddenly—
Ping.
I pulled out my phone and checked the notification.
Scratch-It HQ.
"Your winnings are ready. You may claim them anytime."
Relief washed over me almost instantly.
"…Perfect."
But then I glanced at the time—and my expression shifted.
"…8:30 AM?!"
I was already running late.
With no time to waste, I rushed through everything, grabbed my bag, and left the house in a hurry. As I made my way to school, I quickly decided to claim the money later. My class ran from 10 AM to 2 PM—there was still time.
Priorities.
Control.
Timing.
When I arrived at the classroom, something immediately felt off.
People were looking at me.
Not casually.
Not briefly.
They were staring.
Whispering.
Judging.
It didn't take long to understand why.
To them, I was still the same guy—the poor one. And now, on top of that, the poor guy who got electrocuted.
Pathetic.
Then I heard it.
A voice, loud enough to cut through everything.
"How does it feel to get f*cked by electricity?"
Laughter followed immediately, spreading across the room like a chain reaction.
I turned my head slowly.
Jacob.
Leaning back in his chair, completely at ease, like the entire room belonged to him. There was a grin on his face—wide, arrogant, the kind that came from someone who had never been told "no" in his life.
In my previous life, I hadn't paid much attention to him at first. He was just another rich kid—loud, careless, surrounded by people who laughed a little too hard at his jokes. But over time, I learned exactly what kind of person he really was.
He didn't take things.
He took people.
Opportunities.
Trust.
And eventually
He took her.
Not through force.
Not through lies.
But through something far worse.
Superiority.
Resources.
Presence.
Everything I lacked back then.
And by the time I realized what was happening… it was already over.
I lost without even knowing I was competing.
My fingers tightened slightly at my side, but my expression remained calm, almost indifferent, as I looked at him.
This time, though…
Things were different.
I wasn't the same person anymore.
I knew the future.
And more importantly
I knew him.
And that alone made me far more dangerous than he could ever imagine.