Kang Min-jae woke up gasping.
Air rushed into his lungs as if he had been holding his breath for far too long. His eyes flew open, and instinctively, his hands clutched at his chest.
It was solid.
Warm.
Alive.
The first thing he noticed was the ceiling.
It wasn't white. It wasn't sterile. There were no fluorescent lights or cracks running along it. Instead, it was slightly yellowed, with a faint stain in one corner—familiar in a way that made his breath hitch.
"This is…" he muttered.
His voice came out rough.
Young.
…Young?
He pushed himself upright. The movement felt clumsy—heavy. The blanket slid down his body, and he froze.
Something was wrong.
His body wasn't weak like before. It wasn't thin or fragile. Instead, it felt dense, weighed down. His stomach pressed against his shirt when he leaned forward, and his arms were thicker than he remembered, soft where muscle should have been.
He looked down at his hands.
They were larger. Chubbier. The nails were short and uneven. There were no IV marks. No trembling fingers.
His heart began to pound.
This isn't my body…
He swung his legs off the bed and stood. The floor creaked under his weight. His balance felt off—his center of gravity heavier, unfamiliar.
His gaze swept across the room.
A small desk cluttered with unopened snacks. Crumpled wrappers shoved into corners. Clothes thrown carelessly over a chair. Posters on the wall—idols, actors, K-dramas—faded and curling at the edges.
This room was familiar.
Isn't this… my room? Back when I was still living with my par—
His throat tightened.
He staggered toward the mirror hanging on the closet door.
The moment his reflection came into view, he stopped.
"…Huh."
The face staring back at him was undeniably younger.
Smooth skin. No deep lines of exhaustion beneath the eyes. Sharp eyebrows, a straight nose, a jawline that should have been striking.
But it was buried.
His hair was overgrown and greasy, sticking out unevenly. His cheeks were round, his chin doubled slightly. His skin looked dull—neglected.
Ugly.
Unkempt.
Like someone who had completely stopped caring.
He leaned closer to the mirror.
The potential was obvious.
And so was the waste.
"…I didn't look like this," he whispered.
When he was nineteen, he remembered being plain—but not like this. Thinner. Cleaner. Quiet and hesitant, but not… discarded.
This version of him looked like someone who never left his room unless he had to.
His eyes dropped.
On the desk, half-buried beneath junk, sat a calendar.
His hands trembled slightly as he flipped it upright.
March 2024.
His breath caught.
How old was I in 2024…?
Nineteen.
"…I regressed," he said hoarsely.
But something was definitely wrong.
He hadn't been this fat at nineteen. His room hadn't been this unkempt either.
Before he could think further, the air in front of him shimmered.
A soft chime rang out.
[Loading…]
His pupils shrank.
The shimmer expanded, forming a translucent screen. Then, with a small pop, something appeared above it.
A mascot.
Small. Floating. Vaguely humanoid, with a round body and star-shaped eyes. Its smile was bright—almost irritatingly so.
"Hi!" it said, waving. "Nice to meet you again, Kang Min-jae!"
Min-jae took a step back. "Again?"
The mascot tilted its head. "Ah,right. Memory synchronization is still stabilizing."
It cleared its throat dramatically.
"I am the Superstar System! A comprehensive growth and guidance system designed to cultivate world-class superstars!"
Min-jae stared at it.
Then he laughed—short and hollow.
"Of course," he muttered. "I really have lost it."
The mascot pouted. "Rude."
The screen behind it flickered.
[Subject: Kang Min-jae]
[Evaluation Complete.]
The mascot's tone softened.
"Based on your past life's emotional data—specifically prolonged regret, self-awareness, and your final altruistic actions—you have been granted a conditional second chance."
Images flashed: a hospital bed, quiet acceptance, a signature transferring everything he owned.
Min-jae swallowed.
"…A second chance."
"Yes!" the mascot replied. "However, this opportunity comes with obligations."
The screen changed.
[Primary Interest Identified: Idol Stardom]
[Secondary Interest Identified: Acting]
Min-jae narrowed his eyes.
"Then tell me something," he said slowly. "Why bring me back now? At this age, becoming an idol is nearly impossible. I don't have experience. Even acting isn't guaranteed."
The mascot smiled.
"Correct. At your current age, achieving either goal will be difficult."
That answer sent a chill down Min-jae's spine.
"Then why—"
The screen pulsed.
[Main Quest Issued]
Debut as a Recognized Idol within 2 Years
Failure Condition: Soul enters reincarnation cycle
Min-jae's thoughts raced.
"…Doesn't that mean," he said quietly, "if I fail,I die?"
The mascot nodded.
"Yes."
Then it smiled again.
"So please do your best! Don't worry. I'll be with you throughout your journey!"
Min-jae didn't respond immediately.
He looked back at the mirror.
At his overweight body.
At his neglected face.
At the nineteen-year-old who looked nothing like the man he remembered.
Slowly, he smiled.
Not confidently.
But sincerely.
"…Fine," he said. "I already promised myself once."
He met his own reflection's eyes.
"If I was given another life… I wouldn't hesitate."
The mascot giggled and clapped.
Min-jae didn't care.
This time
He would move forward.