Chapter 1: Shadows of the Past

The city lights flickered weakly in the distance as Jinyoung walked aimlessly through the empty streets. The world around him felt cold, distant, as though it was slipping away from him more with each passing day. In a world obsessed with dungeons, monsters, and power, people like him—ordinary, weak, and forgotten—had no place.

Jinyoung’s footsteps echoed off the cracked pavement, the sound bouncing between the deserted alleyways. He didn’t know where he was going, but he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. The weight of his despair had long since crushed whatever hope he might’ve once held.

A distant voice reached his ears, soft and familiar.

“Jinyoung? Where are you going?”

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. That voice—it couldn’t be real. He turned around slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. There, at the edge of the street, stood a figure he hadn’t seen in years. His mother.

She smiled warmly, just as he remembered. Her hair was tied back loosely, strands falling over her shoulders like they used to when she was too busy in the kitchen to care. The warm scent of her cooking—kimchi stew and freshly steamed rice—flooded his senses.

“Mom?” Jinyoung whispered, his voice trembling.

“Come home, Jinyoung,” she said gently, her tone filled with love. “It’s cold out here.”

His legs felt like lead as he stepped toward her, disbelief clouding his mind. She had died—years ago, in a dungeon break. He had watched her perish, her body buried beneath the rubble of their collapsed home. But here she was, standing before him as if nothing had ever happened.

“Mom, I…” His voice cracked, emotions flooding to the surface.

She smiled wider, motioning him forward with a gesture so familiar it hurt. “Come home, Jinyoung. I made your favorite. Soojin’s waiting.”

“Soojin?” Jinyoung’s heart pounded harder. His sister. He hadn’t seen her in so long. The memories of her laughter, her teasing, her support—they were all like distant dreams now, impossible to grasp.

Suddenly, the street blurred around him, and the dark alley shifted into something else—his childhood home. The walls were intact, the light above the kitchen table warm and soft, casting long shadows across the room. The scent of home filled the air—cooked rice, savory stew, the faint scent of freshly washed clothes hanging to dry.

He blinked, and there they were—his family. His mother, standing by the stove, stirring something in a large pot. His father, sitting at the table, looking through some papers, and his older sister, Soojin, scrolling through her phone like she always did after dinner.

“Come sit, Jinyoung,” his father said, looking up with a smile. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Jinyoung’s breath hitched in his throat. His father’s voice was calm, reassuring, just as he remembered. He felt himself taking slow, unsteady steps toward the table, his mind spinning. How was this possible?

“Jinyoung!” Soojin said brightly, looking up from her phone. “You’re finally back. You’ve been wandering too much lately.”

Her voice—the playful, teasing tone she always used—sounded so real, so tangible. Jinyoung wanted to believe it was real, more than anything in the world.

“I…” Jinyoung stammered, his hands shaking. “I missed you guys.”

His mother turned from the stove, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked over to him. She placed her hand on his cheek, her touch soft and warm. “You’ve been gone for so long, sweetheart. But it’s okay now. We’re here. You’re home.”

Jinyoung felt tears burning in his eyes, his chest tightening. For the first time in years, he felt safe. He felt like he belonged.

But something was wrong.

As he looked around the room, the colors seemed too bright, too vivid, like a painting. The edges of his vision flickered, and the warmth of the scene began to waver. His mother’s hand on his cheek felt cold now, her smile too fixed, too perfect.

He blinked hard, shaking his head. The kitchen blurred again, and suddenly, he wasn’t standing in the warm glow of his family’s home. The alley returned, dark and damp, with garbage strewn along the ground. The smell of home was gone, replaced by the stench of rotting waste.

Jinyoung stumbled back, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“Mom?” he whispered, his voice breaking. But the figure was gone. The warmth of her hand, the sound of his sister’s voice—it had all vanished, like smoke in the wind.

He stood there, shaking, alone once more.

Chapter 2: The Haunting

Jinyoung couldn’t shake the image of his family, the way they had smiled at him, welcomed him home. It had been so vivid, so real. The warmth of his mother’s embrace, the sound of his father’s voice, Soojin’s teasing—everything had felt like he had been thrown back in time. But it wasn’t real.

He knew that.

But it hurt just the same.

As he wandered back through the streets, the ache of their absence gnawed at him. He had been living in a world of ghosts for years, his family’s memory haunting him at every turn. He had learned to live with it, to bury it deep, but now, the pain felt raw and exposed again.

He didn’t know how long he had been walking when he found himself standing in front of the old bridge—the one that overlooked the rushing river. It had been a place of comfort for him once, a place he and Soojin used to come to talk, to escape the world. But now, it felt empty, devoid of the warmth it once held.

Jinyoung leaned against the railing, staring down at the black water below. The wind howled through the night, biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. His mind was consumed with thoughts of his family—the family he had lost.

“You’re thinking too much again.”

The voice startled him, and he whipped around, only to see Soojin standing behind him. She looked the same as she always had—bright-eyed, her long hair falling around her shoulders, a smile playing on her lips.

“You always come here when you’re brooding,” she said, walking over to stand beside him. “Remember when we used to come here after school? We’d just sit and watch the water for hours.”

Jinyoung stared at her, his heart hammering in his chest. “Soojin…”

“I know things have been hard,” she said, leaning on the railing, her gaze fixed on the river. “Losing Mom and Dad—it broke us both. But you can’t let it control you. You can’t keep running away.”

“I’m not running,” Jinyoung muttered, though his voice was weak, unsure.

“Really?” Soojin turned to face him, her eyes piercing. “Because it seems like that’s all you’ve been doing.”

Jinyoung clenched his fists, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m powerless, Soojin. I can’t fight, I can’t protect anyone. I couldn’t even protect you.”

Soojin’s face softened, her smile sad but understanding. “You don’t have to protect me anymore, Jinyoung. I’m not here.”

His breath caught in his throat, and he looked up at her, panic flooding his veins. “What do you mean?”

“I’m gone, Jinyoung,” she said softly, her voice growing faint. “We all are.”

Jinyoung blinked, and Soojin was gone. The wind howled through the empty street, and the only sound that remained was the rushing of the river below.

He was alone.

The hallucinations had been so real, so vivid, but now, in the stark silence of the night, Jinyoung felt the weight of his isolation more than ever before.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

His mind was unraveling, the line between reality and memory blurring too much to bear. His family was gone, and nothing would bring them back. There was no second chance, no way to fix the past.

Jinyoung stepped toward the edge of the bridge, staring down at the rushing water below.

It would be so easy.

One step, and all the pain, all the loneliness, would disappear.

Chapter 3: The Second Chance

Jinyoung’s eyes fluttered open, his body heavy and cold. But he wasn’t dead. Instead, he found himself lying on the hard, cold pavement under a dark sky. For a moment, he didn’t move, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.

Had he fallen?

Had he jumped?

The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, and he pushed himself up, his body trembling from exhaustion and the emotional toll of the night. The hallucinations still clung to him like shadows, their voices lingering in his mind.

As he stood, a strange light flickered in front of him, and a translucent screen appeared, glowing faintly against the darkness.

[Congratulations! Regression Protocol Activated.]

Jinyoung blinked, confused. His head spun, and he reached out, trying to touch the screen, but his hand passed right through it.

[You have been granted a second chance to change your fate. Would you like to accept the terms?]

A second chance? His heart raced. Could this be real? Or was it just another hallucination, a cruel trick of his broken mind?

But the words glowed with a strange warmth, offering something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

With a shaky breath, Jinyoung nodded, accepting the system’s offer.

The screen faded, and the world around him began to shift.