*One hour later.*
"It's okay, it's okay."
That's what they said about me after I climbed a tree to retrieve my younger sister Chloe's kite and fell.
My father and stepmother were extremely worried, insisting that I should go to the hospital.
"I'll just step out for some fresh air."
Brushing myself off as if nothing happened, I left the house.
As I wandered around a nearby vacant lot, my mind was filled with questions.
'Have I really… gone back to being seventeen?'
Or perhaps I'd simply gone mad.
Maybe I was mistaking hallucinations for reality…
After a moment of hesitation, I pinched my cheek.
"Ouch."
I could… pinch my face.
I stared blankly at my fingers, moving freely under my control.
My arms and legs, brimming with strength beyond normalcy.
Overwhelmed with emotion, I looked up and saw my seventeen-year-old, youthful reflection in the neighbor's window.
And above all, my body, completely free of any ailment.
"…"
For a moment, I bit my lip as a wave of emotion surged within me.
Even now, if I closed my eyes, I could almost smell the alcohol-scented hospital room where I lay for over a year.
"Phew."
The moment of death, that overwhelming pressure crushing my entire body.
The vivid memory of that pain made me close my eyes briefly before opening them again.
'I thought I'd died for sure, but has a miracle really happened?'
How shocked I'd been to see my long-deceased father's face.
"…"
Suppressing the flood of emotions, I started walking again.
At first slowly, then picking up speed.
I ran without hesitation, not looking back.
"Huff, huff…"
How long had I been running?
Thanks to the fresh air filling my lungs, I could feel my oxygen-supplied brain working quickly.
After carefully analyzing the situation, my mind reached a simple conclusion.
'I must ensure that future never repeats itself.'
Though I have a family history of aneurysms, with proper care, they can be prevented.
No smoking, no drinking, regular exercise.
By sticking to these three things, I could avoid being trapped in my body's prison in my mid-thirties.
"…And Father too."
I recalled my father, awkwardly hesitating as he looked at me, and my stepmother, overjoyed at my small changes.
Yes. How much regret had I carried in my past life?
My father passed away while I was in college.
We never managed to mend our strained relationship.
Only later did I try to repay Kate and Chloe's sincerity.
'Father had… similar symptoms, if I remember correctly.'
So, taking care of his health would be my first priority.
I'd also be good to my stepmother and sister.
Perhaps this was a chance given by the heavens to avoid repeating those regrets.
"…Ha."
With that conclusion, I felt a sense of relief and closed my eyes unconsciously.
"…"
The humid air brushing my cheeks, the refreshing scent of trees, and the warm sunlight filtering through overhead.
Every sense in my body clearly affirmed that I was here, in this moment.
'…!'
Just like when I lay in that hospital bed.
I noticed letters floating in the darkness of my vision.
[Fiction] [Nonfiction] [Genre Classification] [Era Classification] [Author Classification]
…
Not only the references I'd organized by my own standards,
but also the drafts I'd written while bedridden, and the ideas I'd conceived—all of them alive and breathing in my mind.
Thump, thump.
Feeling my racing heart, I opened my eyes.
The long-missed rural scenery filled my vision.
'Now… I can write again.'
A late realization swelled my chest with hope.
My fingers itched with the urge to write something, anything, right away—
'But let's not rush.'
There are countless ways to succeed as a novelist.
I'm more knowledgeable about industry trends than anyone, and above all—
'I'm confident, aren't I?'
Confident that I could write far better than I did back then.
I'm no longer the old Kwon Yujin who faltered with poor English skills.
I majored in humanities in college, worked nearly a decade in the American publishing world—known for its refined English—and now…
'I'd wager I'm better than most natives.'
So I'll write countless stories, in various styles—
"For a long, long time, happily."
This time, I'd have plenty of chances to do so.
A baseless yet unwavering confidence coursed through me.
"…Time to head back."
With a smile tugging at my lips, I turned toward home.
---
*Our Yujin has changed.*
That was the realization Kate Kwon, Yujin's stepmother, had on Sunday morning.
'Not just changed—he's like a completely different person.'
The Korean boy born to her Korean husband's late ex-wife.
Even after living together for over a year, Kwon Yujin had remained distant.
It got worse after he became a sophomore (10th grade); he wouldn't even greet her when their eyes met.
He'd often refuse to come out of his room even when called for meals…
"Kate, just the plates, right?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah."
While Kate prepared breakfast, he naturally set the table.
"Chloe's still asleep, huh?"
"Uh, yeah."
He even set up his little sister's high chair and dishes.
'Is the sun going to rise in the west tomorrow?'
The change was so drastic it felt unfamiliar.
Could it be… he hit his head when he fell from the tree yesterday?
Glancing at her son's profile, Kate cautiously spoke.
"Yujin, you're awfully kind today."
"Huh?"
"Thanks for helping with breakfast."
At her tentatively spoken words, Yujin let out an "Ah—" as if realizing something belatedly.
'Oh no.'
Thinking she'd said something unnecessary, Kate quickly added,
"No, no, I really mean it. I'd love if we could keep getting along like this. …But don't feel pressured, okay?"
Flustered, she rambled, and the boy flashed a bright, clear smile.
"Pressured? I guess I've caused you a lot of trouble before, huh? Haha."
"…"
For a moment, that smile seemed oddly seasoned, like that of a weathered adult.
"What's this? Yujin, up early on a Sunday for once?"
Her husband—Yujin's father—walked in.
The gruff, authoritative father and his rebellious, hot-tempered son didn't get along.
The moment Kate tensed up instinctively—
"Good morning, Father. Did you sleep well?"
"…"
Both she and her husband's eyes widened in shock at Yujin's cheerful greeting.
"Kate's pancakes are amazing. Eat them before they get cold."
"Uh, oh… sure."
Her usually composed husband—flustered enough to spill maple syrup on his sleeve—was a spectacle in itself.
'What in the world is going on?'
But even more shocking was Yujin chatting amiably with his father.
A little later.
After finishing his meal, Yujin stood, scraping his chair.
"Thanks for the meal, Kate."
"Oh, uh, you're welcome."
"And Father."
"Yes?"
"There's one thing I need you to promise me."
"…?"
Facing his bewildered father head-on,
Kwon Yujin said firmly,
"Starting today, quit smoking and drinking."
"W-What?"
"I'm not kidding. And exercise every day."
"…"
"You'll drop dead in one go if you keep this up—bam, gone."
His tone was too serious to be a joke, leaving his father gaping.
---
*The next day, Monday, after pestering Father all evening.*
'Who knew even math class could be fun?'
Maybe it's because I'm back at school after over a decade.
Or because I can now effortlessly understand things I barely grasped half of before.
The teachers were visibly thrown off by how attentively I listened, my eyes sparkling.
And then—
"Ugh, geez, dude, you're suffocating me!"
"What's with you? I heard you fell from a tree—did you hit your head or something?"
"Guys, I love you."
"Holy shit! Yujin, you've really lost it, huh?"
My best friends Ned and Adele, whom I met in front of the locker room.
When I hugged them fiercely and confessed my feelings, they treated me like a lunatic.
"…Yeah, this is true happiness."
At my sudden murmur, Ned, who'd been slurping noodles, choked.
"Dude, what's with you today? I mean, sure, the Shin Ramyun at your place is always killer, but… Did something seriously shocking happen over the weekend?"
"I told you, it's gotta be a concussion."
Adele shrugged.
Her red bob swayed over her shoulders as she slurped her ramen.
'But I mean it.'
Being able to chew and swallow food.
Fully savoring the taste of broth sliding down my throat.
It's all a blessing, a miracle.
The memory of eating through a tube in my windpipe still gives me chills.
'Come to think of it.'
What was it I heard right before I came back?
Something about a contract or a miracle…
Lost in thought for a moment—
"Hey, let's go upstairs!"
Ned and Adele, having polished off their bowls, naturally headed to my room.
"Yujin, did you see the latest *Watchmen* issue? It's insane."
Ned, pale-skinned and bespectacled, was the school's resident superhero nerd.
"Wait, I've heard about that *Watchmen* crap a hundred times since this morning."
And Adele Ashburn, my next-door neighbor.
Thanks to these two, I'd barely managed to adjust to this unfamiliar American school.
"A hundred times and you still don't get *Watchmen*."
"Why do I need to? Anyway, Yujin."
"Yeah?"
Adele turned to me with a playful smirk.
"You're awfully talkative today, you know? You used to give one-word answers no matter what anyone asked."
Ned chimed in right on cue.
"Oh, that's it!"
"What's it?"
"Yujin fell from that tree! The impact when his head hit the ground must've activated his neurons. Now he can automatically pick up any language he hears—"
"Do you even know what a neuron is?"
I couldn't help but chuckle at their usual bickering.
"So when are you guys leaving?"
"In a bit."
"I don't have much to do today either. Why?"
Unlike these two with no plans,
I had plenty to do—and wanted to do.
My head was overflowing with ideas screaming to be let out.
But if I had to pick the most urgent task—
"…Homework."
"What? What homework?"
While Ned tilted his head, Adele clicked her tongue.
"You mean AP English Lit, right? I told you not to take it—it's tough even for juniors."
"Oh yeah, the comics club senior was in that class. Said Mr. Leonard's a total hardass."
And I only found out today that the deadline had already passed.
Better late than never, I figured, and my friends' eyes welled up.
"Good luck, Yujin."
"Godspeed, my friend."
With that, they turned to their own tasks.
"Heehee, hahaha…"
Ned giggled at YouTube game reviews.
"Don't be that way…"
Adele grabbed Kate's acoustic guitar and started singing Billie Eilish.
Her sweet voice flowed like background music as
I sat at my desk and opened my laptop.
The assignment topic was…
[Write a 5-6 page A4 short story parody of William Shakespeare's *Romeo and Juliet*.]
'Not bad for a warm-up.'
I'd been writing nonstop in my head,
but putting it on paper—or screen—after a year felt like perfect rehab.
Plus, I'd written a college paper on Shakespeare, so it's a topic I'm confident in.
Then I noticed a file in my 'homework' folder: [*Romeo and Juliet_Parody*].
Something I wrote before coming back?
"…"
Curious, I clicked it—and was momentarily speechless.
Maybe because it was written in broken English,
every sentence was so clumsy I couldn't salvage a single one.
'But the idea's pretty fun.'
The twist in my pre-regression parody was—
changing the 'narrator' of this classic tragedy.
'Switching perspectives, huh…'
In that instant—
*Flash.* The first sentence hit me, and I started typing.
Tap-tap, taptaptap, tatatatap—
The images in my mind took shape as words, unfolding one by one.
The rhythmic clacking of the keyboard tickled my ears.
Lost in a trance, I wrote until I reached two-thirds of the story—
'Hm?'
I felt a piercing gaze on my back.
Glancing over, I saw Ned standing behind me, his eyes frantically scanning my screen.
"What… what *is* this?"
What else would it be?
Shrugging with a smirk, I turned to him.
"You're telling me this is for your writing assignment? The English Lit homework?"
His voice sounded strangled as he continued.
"So, it's not some existing story… you just sat down and wrote this *right now*?"
"Yeah, what's the big deal?"
At my casual reply,
Ned's eyes widened as if he'd seen a ghost.
---