When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling.
It was white. A little cracked near the corner.
There was a faint water stain shaped like a half-moon that I remembered way too clearly.
I stared at it for a few seconds longer than I probably should have.
Then I sat up.
My bed felt smaller than I remembered. The blanket was thin, the pillow a little flat. I reached up and rubbed my face, expecting stubble, maybe a headache.
Instead, my hand brushed against smooth skin.
I paused.
I got out of bed and walked to the mirror near the door. The room felt familiar in a way that was hard to explain. Not nostalgic. Just… normal. Like I had been here yesterday.
The person in the mirror wasn't who I expected.
Younger. Clearly younger. No tired lines around the eyes. No scars on my knuckles. No stiffness in my shoulders.
High school.
I let out a quiet breath. Not a sigh. Just air leaving my lungs.
"So it's really happening," I muttered.
There was no rush of excitement. No panic. No dramatic realization.
Just acceptance.
I checked my phone. The date confirmed it.
Same year. Same month. Same week.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and stretched my arms. My body felt light. Too light. Like it hadn't learned weight yet.
Down the hall, I heard my mom moving around the kitchen. Plates clinking. The kettle turning on.
"Breakfast!" she called.
Her voice sounded exactly the same.
"I'm coming," I replied.
My voice sounded wrong. Too young. I didn't like it, but there wasn't much I could do about that.
I got dressed, grabbed my bag, and walked out. Breakfast was simple—rice, eggs, nothing special. We talked about normal things.
Weather. School. A test coming up.
I answered like I used to. Short replies. No complaints.
She didn't notice anything strange. That was good.
The walk to school felt longer than I remembered, but that was probably because I was paying attention. The streets hadn't changed much. Same convenience store on the corner. Same cracked sidewalk near the crossing.
A couple of students passed me, talking loudly about something I didn't care about. I didn't recognize them by name, but their faces felt familiar.
When I reached the school gate, I stopped for a second.
The building stood there like it always had.
Plain. Gray. Slightly worn down.
I walked in.
The hallway noise hit immediately. Lockers closing. People laughing. Someone running because they were late.
It felt strange being here again, but not
uncomfortable.
Just familiar.
I went to my classroom and took a seat near the window. Same spot I used to sit in. I hadn't planned it. My feet just carried me there.
A few people glanced my way. No one said anything.
Good.
Classes went by without anything special happening. Math. History. English. I took notes when I felt like it. Other times, I just stared outside.
My body reacted before my mind sometimes. When the teacher dropped a book, I looked up instantly. When someone bumped into my desk, my posture shifted without thinking.
Old habits.
At lunch, I ate alone. Not because I had to. Just because I wanted to.
Someone sat across from me anyway.
"You're back early," he said.
I looked up. It was Minjae. Same guy. Same haircut. Same casual expression.
"Yeah," I said. "Things worked out."
He nodded like that explained everything.
We ate in silence for a bit.
"You planning to join anything this year?" he asked.
"No."
"Still?"
"Still."
He shrugged. "Figures."
That was it. No pressure. No follow-up.
After school, I headed out like usual. That was when it happened.
Two guys were arguing near the bike racks.
Loud voices. Pushing. Nothing serious yet.
I tried to walk past.
One of them stumbled backward and bumped into me.
"Watch it," he said, irritated.
I looked at him. He was taller than me. Broad shoulders. Looked athletic.
"Sorry," I said.
That should've been the end of it.
But he didn't move.
"You think you can just—"
Before he finished, his friend grabbed his arm.
"Leave it."
The guy hesitated, then scoffed and walked away.
I stood there for a second longer, then continued walking.
My heart rate hadn't changed.
That bothered me more than the situation itself.
At home, I dropped my bag and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling again. Same crack. Same stain.
I wasn't here to change the world.
I wasn't here to prove anything.
I just… ended up here again.
But I knew how things went last time.
Which teachers didn't care. Which classmates talked too much. Which situations turned bad if ignored.
I also knew how my body moved. How to balance. How to react without thinking.
That knowledge didn't disappear just because
time went backward.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow would probably be the same.