Seojun blinked.
The classroom was silent, the teacher droning on about integrals. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting soft shadows on the desks. A breeze from the open window made a few strands of his shoulder-length black hair shift over his forehead, but he barely noticed.
Everything seemed normal.
Except for the glowing blue text floating in the air in front of him.
[Apologies for the untimely death. The universe has granted you another chance.]
His ribs ached where the steering wheel had crushed them—but that made no sense. He'd never been in a crash.
'…Huh?'
[Processing… Adjusting to new timeline…]
'Wait. New timeline?'
[Error. Memory sync failed.]
The text vanished. His heart pounded. A whisper echoed, faint as static: "This time, don't save her." The voice was his own—but older, ragged, like a recording played backward.
Seojun's brows furrowed. Memory sync failed? That didn't sound good. Also who's voice was that?
The glowing text flickered before vanishing, leaving him staring at empty space. His heart was beating a little too fast now.
Was he hallucinating? He hadn't been that sleep-deprived… had he?
"Hey."
A whisper.
Seojun turned his head. Minjae was watching him through half-lidded eyes, lazily nudging his arm. "You good?"
Seojun hesitated. Should he tell him?
Before he could decide, the teacher's voice cut through the room. "Seojun, is something wrong?"
Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Crap.
He quickly shook his head. "No, sir. Just… dropped my pencil."
The teacher gave him a look but went back to scrawling equations on the board. The moment attention shifted away, Minjae leaned in again. "You sure? You look like you saw a ghost."
"Yeah, just… weird dream or something."
Minjae shrugged, already half-asleep again. "Man, get more rest. You're already too tall, stop stressing out or you'll hit the ceiling."
Seojun barely heard him. His mind was still racing.
A system message? A failed memory sync? And—more importantly—untimely death?
He didn't remember dying.
But if this was real… did that mean something happened before this moment? Something he couldn't recall?
His deep blue eyes flickered to the window. Outside, the sky was the same pale blue, the world still moving as if nothing had changed.
But he knew better.
Something had.
Seojun exhaled slowly. Let's just forget about it.
Weird hallucination, stress, maybe he was just overtired—it didn't matter. No point in overthinking something that probably wasn't real.
With that, he forced the tension out of his shoulders and leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. His long black hair shifted slightly as he did, catching in the sunlight that streamed through the window.
"Alright, back to reality," he muttered under his breath.
As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Seojun was up, grinning as he nudged Minjae awake.
"Come on, man, lunch time."
Minjae groaned. "Five more minutes…"
Seojun chuckled, shaking his head before turning toward the front. A group of students was struggling to move desks for a study session. Without hesitation, he stepped in.
"Here, let me help."
He grabbed the edge of a desk, easily shifting it into place. The others sighed in relief.
"Thanks, Seojun. You're a lifesaver," one of them said.
"No problem." He flashed an easy smile before heading toward the hallway.
As he walked, a junior poked her head out of a classroom. "Ah, sunbae! Could you help me reach something?"
"Of course."
He reached up, easily grabbing the book from the high shelf and handing it to her. She beamed.
"Thank you!"
"No worries."
This was normal. This was how things were supposed to be. He was Seojun—the guy who helped out, who smiled easily, who never let anything weigh him down.
And that weird message?
It was already fading from his mind.
Seojun made his way to the cafeteria, the scent of fried food and instant ramen filling the air. Students gathered in noisy clusters, chatting and laughing, the usual energy of lunchtime in full swing.
As he walked in, a familiar voice called out.
"Seojun! Over here!"
At a table near the windows, a few of his classmates waved him over. He grinned and strode toward them, sliding into a seat with practiced ease.
"Man, you're always in demand," one of them joked.
"What can I say?" Seojun smirked. "I'm just that popular."
They laughed, and the conversation naturally flowed. It was easy—being around people, keeping things light, acting like nothing ever got to him. He joked, teased, and listened when someone complained about a tough exam.
Halfway through lunch, a girl hesitated near their table, looking awkward. Seojun glanced up.
"Seojun, um… I heard you're good at math. Could you explain the last part of today's lesson?"
"Oh, integrals?" He tapped his chopsticks against his tray, then gestured to the seat across from him. "Yeah, sure. Got your notes?"
She nodded quickly and sat down, relieved. As Seojun leaned forward to explain, his long black hair fell slightly over his deep blue eyes, making him look more serious than usual. But his voice remained light, his explanations clear and simple.
By the time she got it, the lunch period was almost over.
"Wow, that makes so much more sense now. Thanks, Seojun!"
"No problem. But you owe me a snack next time," he said with a wink.
She laughed, and the group around him chuckled.
Just another normal day.
Except—
As Seojun stood up, stretching his arms, he felt the usual energy of the cafeteria buzzing around him. Laughter, conversations, the clatter of trays—it was all familiar, all normal.
At the far corner of the cafeteria, unnoticed by anyone, Haneul sat alone.
She absentmindedly poked at her half-eaten meal, her violet eyes lingering on Seojun's familiar figure. He was laughing at something, his long black hair shifting slightly as he tilted his head back. Even from across the room, she could hear the easygoing tone in his voice, the way people naturally gravitated toward him.
'Ugh, why do I see him everywhere?' she thought, clicking her tongue in annoyance.
Then again, it made sense. They went to the same school, after all. And he was everywhere. Popular, well-liked, always at the center of something.
Haneul sighed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
'How can someone be so bright?'
She turned her attention back to her food, deliberately looking away.
And, as always, Seojun never noticed her.
Her fingers twitched toward her pocket, where a crumpled photo of him—one she didn't remember taking—had appeared that morning. What's even more unsetyling was this photo.
---
After school, Seojun waved off his classmates, grinning as they parted ways. The sky had turned a warm shade of orange, signaling the slow descent into evening. His long black hair shifted slightly as a breeze passed, but he barely noticed.
"See you tomorrow, Seojun!"
"Yeah, see ya." He lifted a hand in farewell before slipping his other hand into his pocket, walking at a relaxed pace.
But as he approached a certain intersection, his steps subtly slowed.
This was routine.
Without changing his expression, he casually glanced left, then right. His deep blue eyes flickered over the quiet street. Students were still walking in pairs or groups, but no one paid him any attention. No one was following him.
Still, he waited a beat longer, letting his gaze sweep over the area once more.
Nothing.
Satisfied, he turned down a narrow alley, his steps quickening slightly. The alley twisted behind a row of buildings, leading to a small, unassuming door. There was no sign, no indication that this place was anything more than a storage room.
But this was his place.
Seojun pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The moment it shut behind him, the tension in his shoulders eased.
The soft scent of coffee and vanilla filled the air.
Dim, warm lighting cast gentle shadows over wooden tables, neatly arranged with mismatched chairs. The café was small—cozy—but every inch of it had been arranged by his own hands.
Midnight Brew.
His hidden café.
Seojun exhaled, rolling up his sleeves as he moved behind the counter. His body naturally fell into the rhythm—grinding beans, boiling water, setting up the pastries he'd prepared in advance.
There was something soothing about this. Here, he wasn't the popular, carefree Seojun. He wasn't the ever-smiling friend who had to be there for everyone.
Here, he could just be… himself.
The quiet hum of the coffee machine filled the space.
Seojun leaned against the counter, letting his mind drift.
That weird system message from earlier… it hadn't appeared again. Maybe it was just a hallucination. Or a dream. Yeah, that was probably it.
He shook his head and sighed. "I really need to stop overthinking."
---
Seojun wiped his hands on a towel, exhaling as he leaned against the counter.
He let his eyes wander around the space.
It wasn't much, but it was his.
No one knew about this place. Not his friends. Not his teachers. Not even Minjae.
It was a secret he had built with his own hands.
His fingers absently traced the polished surface of the counter, feeling the worn grain of the wood.
He'd come a long way.
His parents had failed him and Bomi. A drunkard father who drank himself to the grave. A mother who ran away when Seojun was ten, leaving behind a six-month-old baby.
Just like that, it had been them against the world.
There was no time to be a kid.
He had to step up.
At first, it was just little things—saving every spare coin, stretching meals, finding ways to cut costs. But money didn't appear out of nowhere, and desperation made people creative.
So he started making money the only way a middle schooler could.
Doing assignments.
It was easy. Too easy. Some kids hated math, others despised literature. Seojun didn't mind either, and if they were willing to pay? Why not?
By the time he hit high school, he had expanded. Part-time café work. More assignments. Any job that paid, he took.
Until finally… he got it.
This place.
A small, hidden space at the back of an alley. No one looked twice at it, and the owner had been all too willing to rent it out for cheap. With a little work, some late-night renovations, and sheer stubbornness, he turned it into Midnight Brew.
A quiet café. His own business. His own world.
A place where he could breathe.
Seojun exhaled, shaking his head. Enough reminiscing.
The soft hiss of the coffee machine filled the silence. He checked the pastries, wiped the counter again.
Then—
Ding.
The doorbell jingled—but the bell hadn't worked in weeks. Seojun's head snapped up.
Seojun looked up automatically. "Welcome to Midni—"
He stopped.
She stood at the entrance, her violet eyes scanning the space.
That school uniform.
Seojun's breath caught. He knew that uniform.
His deep blue eyes locked onto the quiet figure, confusion settling in like a slow-moving wave.
'She goes to my school? But I have never seen her before.'
Yet, she was here.
"How did you—?"
The air smelled like rain, though it was sunny outside. Haneul blinked. "You left the door open." But he hadn't.
How?
How did she find this place?