Kim Min-jun stood in front of the school gate like it was the entrance to hell.
A tall stone wall ran along the perimeter. Steel gates stood open, students flowing through like ants heading into a hive. Uniforms, backpacks, chattering voices—none of it made sense to him.
He narrowed his eyes.
So. This was the battlefield.
He tightened his grip on his backpack straps. They dug into his shoulders, and his spine curved like a shrimp under the weight. His knees already hated him.
He took a step.
"Ugh…"
And then another.
"I was able to fly through lightning storms before," he muttered. "Now I need to stretch just to walk down a sidewalk?"
He passed through the gates. No arch of flames. No trial by combat. Just gum stuck to the ground and a sleepy boy tripping over his shoelaces.
The school building ahead looked like a concrete block with windows. A giant rectangle of doom.
A group of girls passed by, glancing at him.
"Is that Min-jun?"
"No way, he's… walking straight."
"I thought he transferred or something…"
Chun Ma ignored them. Or tried to. This body had sharp ears.
Inside, the hallways were buzzing. Students shoved books into lockers. Some leaned against walls like they were trying to look cool. One was chewing gum like it owed him money.
Chun Ma kept walking, eyes scanning everything like a general surveying enemy territory.
Then he realized—he didn't know where his classroom was.
"System," he muttered under his breath, "assist me. Where am I supposed to go?"
⎛Homeroom: Class 2-B. Third floor. Second door on the right.⎠
⎛Tip: Try not to get lost like last time.⎠
"…Last time?"
No response.
He sighed and headed for the stairs, trying to ignore the ache in his knees after just a few steps.
Class 2-B.
He stopped in front of the door. Laughter echoed from inside. Someone threw a paper ball. A chair scraped across the floor.
He opened the door slowly.
Every head turned.
Silence.
A moment passed.
Then a snort.
"Yo… is that Min-jun?"
"No way."
"He looks like he actually slept last night."
"He's not limping!"
Chun Ma walked in with the posture of a man who once challenged seven sect leaders at once.
But to these students, he looked like a slightly confused honor student trying too hard to stand up straight.
He found a seat near the back. The desk was small. Too small. His knees barely fit underneath.
He sat.
The chair squeaked.
He stared ahead.
A boy leaned over from the next desk. Round face. Soft hair. He wore his blazer open like he was allergic to buttons.
"Hey, Min-jun," the boy said with a grin. "You okay, man? You look like you saw a ghost… or passed math."
"I am… adjusting," Chun Ma replied calmly.
The boy blinked. "Huh?"
"To this plane. And this weak vessel."
There was a pause.
"…Cool," the boy said. "Anyway, name's Woo-jin. I sit next to you. You've been out for, like, a week. You had a cold or something?"
Chun Ma tilted his head. "I died."
"…Huh?"
"Of enlightenment."
Woo-jin stared at him, mouth slightly open.
Then he laughed. "Oh man, that's deep. Are you doing a bit?"
Chun Ma turned away. "Yes. A 'bit.' That is what I'm doing."
The teacher arrived a few minutes later. Mid-thirties. Wire glasses. Hair tied back. Carried a stack of papers like they were made of pain.
"Alright, settle down."
She paused when she saw Chun Ma.
"Oh. Min-jun. You're back."
Chun Ma stood.
"I have returned, teacher."
She blinked. "Um. Good. Sit down."
He sat.
Someone in the back giggled.
The teacher sighed and began roll call.
Names passed like whispers in the wind. None of them mattered to Chun Ma.
Until—
"Lee Hana."
"Present," came a sharp voice.
He turned his head.
The girl from the roof.
Tall, sharp-eyed, ponytail, perfect posture. She looked like someone who'd scold you for breathing too loudly.
She didn't look at him.
He frowned.
Was she a threat?
She was disciplined, that much was clear. And her gaze during their last meeting had held the tiniest flicker of suspicion.
She might be trouble later.
He made a mental note.
⎛Note saved: "Ponytail girl – possible enemy or extremely uptight student."⎠
"…Thank you," he muttered.
Lunch was chaos.
Students stampeded toward the cafeteria like it was a survival game. Chun Ma followed slowly, trying to ignore the smell of sweat and fried mystery meat.
The cafeteria was loud. Shouting, laughter, trays clattering. He held a metal tray like it was a weapon and stepped into line.
When it was his turn, a lunch lady stared at him.
"You look new. Transfer?"
"…Reborn."
She blinked. "What?"
"Nothing."
He got rice, something that might be kimchi, and a mystery meat that shimmered unnaturally.
He found a table in the corner, sat, and ate slowly. Chewed each bite like it was his last.
The food was bland. Overcooked. Too salty.
But it was warm.
Warm food. A place to sit. A roof.
He felt… strange.
Softly… content?
Then a shadow fell over his table.
Three boys stood in front of him. One had bleached hair. Another had a nose ring. The third looked like he failed high school twice.
"Hey, Min-jun."
He looked up. "Yes?"
"You ignored us this morning."
"I did not recognize you."
The lead thug frowned. "That's real funny. You trying to act cool now?"
"I'm trying to eat."
The thug grabbed his tray and dumped it on the table.
Chun Ma blinked.
There was a pause.
Then he stood up.
Not fast. Not dramatic.
Just stood.
His eyes met the thug's.
"Leave," he said quietly.
The thug snorted. "Or what?"
"Or I will hit you with this tray."
A pause.
Woo-jin ran over. "Hey, whoa, whoa! He's just messing around! Right, Min-jun? Right?"
Chun Ma did not break eye contact.
The thug opened his mouth.
Chun Ma's tray swung up and smacked him in the forehead with a CLANG.
Silence fell over the cafeteria.
The thug dropped.
The other two backed away slowly.
Chun Ma sat down again and picked up a piece of spilled rice.
"…Wasted food is a sin."
Later that day, the principal called him in.
The office was small. Plants in the corner. Diplomas on the wall. The principal, a tired man in his fifties, stared at a report.
"So you hit another student with a lunch tray."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He disrupted my meal."
The principal sighed. "Min-jun… I don't know what's gotten into you. You've always been quiet. Shy. Avoided conflict."
"I have changed."
"Clearly."
There was a long pause.
"…You're not in trouble this time. The student's been causing issues for months. But next time, just… talk to a teacher first, okay?"
"Very well," Chun Ma said, rising.
As he reached the door, the principal called out.
"…Hey. Whatever you're going through… it's okay to talk to someone, alright?"
Chun Ma paused.
"…Thank you."
He left the office.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he was thanking the principal… or this strange world for giving him a second life.