The last thing I remember from my first life wasn't fear.
It was noise.
Cars. Footsteps. Voices that didn't belong to me.
And laughter.
Not cruel. Not directed at me.
Just… ordinary.
That was the part that stayed with me.
Because in the end, the world didn't stop.
Not for me.
I stood at a crosswalk, hands in my pockets, waiting for a light that meant nothing.
Red.
"Don't walk."
People around me moved anyway—some impatient, some distracted, some glued to their phones. Their lives were already in motion.
Mine wasn't.
I didn't hate my life.
I didn't love it either.
It just… existed.
School, home, sleep, repeat. Conversations that never went deeper than necessary. Days that blended into each other until I stopped trying to separate them.
I used to think something would change.
At some point.
It didn't.
"…Hah."
A quiet breath left my lips.
Not a sigh of relief.
Not frustration.
Just air leaving a body that had nothing left to hold onto.
The signal changed.
Green.
People stepped forward.
So did I.
One step.
Two steps.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Unimportant.
"WATCH OUT—!!"
The scream cut through everything.
For a split second, time didn't stop—but my awareness sharpened.
Too sharp.
I turned my head.
A truck.
Too close.
Too fast.
No time to react.
No time to think.
Just enough time to understand.
So this is how it ends.
Not heroic.
Not meaningful.
Not even dramatic.
Just… erased.
Impact.
I expected darkness.
Silence.
An end.
Instead—
Air rushed into my lungs violently.
I coughed hard, my body jerking forward as if I had been dropped from a height. My hands scraped against rough ground.
Cold.
Dry.
Real.
"…What…?"
My voice came out broken.
I forced my eyes open.
Sky.
Blue.
Clear.
Too clear.
I pushed myself upright slowly, my body unsteady, like I was using muscles that didn't belong to me.
"…I'm alive?"
The thought didn't feel like relief.
It felt wrong.
I looked at my hands.
They were mine.
Same shape. Same scars. Same familiarity.
But the memory—
A truck.
Impact.
Death.
That wasn't something you walked away from.
"…This isn't possible…"
My heartbeat started to rise.
Not out of fear.
Out of confusion.
Because something about this moment didn't align with reality.
I stood up.
The ground beneath me was dirt and grass. Not asphalt. Not a street.
No buildings nearby.
No cars.
No people.
Just open land stretching out in every direction.
"…Where am I?"
The question hung in the air without an answer.
Wind moved through the grass.
I froze.
I could feel it.
That shouldn't have mattered—but it did.
Because the fact that I could feel anything at all meant—
"I'm… not dead."
The words came out slower than my thoughts.
And then—
"I'm alive."
I said it again.
Testing it.
Confirming it.
Trying to anchor myself to something real.
"You're not supposed to be."
The voice came from behind me.
I turned instantly.
A girl stood a short distance away.
Pale hair.
Still eyes.
Expression unchanged.
She didn't look surprised to see me.
She looked… certain.
Like she had been waiting.
"…Who are you?" I asked.
My voice was steady, but only barely.
She didn't answer the question.
Instead, she spoke as if continuing a conversation I hadn't heard.
"You should have died."
Her tone was calm.
Not accusing.
Not emotional.
Just stating a fact.
"…What are you talking about?" I replied.
"You were meant to be removed."
The words didn't make sense.
Removed.
Not killed.
Not injured.
Removed.
"…I was killed," I said. "I got hit by a truck. That's not something you just—"
"You didn't stay dead."
Her interruption was immediate.
Her eyes remained fixed on me.
"And that's the problem."
A pause followed.
Not from hesitation.
From observation.
Like she was measuring something.
"…I watched your death," she continued. "It happened correctly."
A cold weight settled in my chest.
"Then why am I here?"
She took a step forward.
For the first time, something in the air changed.
Not visibly.
But noticeably.
Subtle pressure.
Like reality itself was becoming aware of us.
"…Because something rejected the outcome."
Her gaze didn't waver.
"You should not exist in this state."
"…State?"
"You are an inconsistency."
The word landed heavier than it should have.
Inconsistency.
Like an error.
A mistake in a system that was supposed to be fixed.
"…That's ridiculous," I muttered.
But even as I said it—
I felt it again.
That same wrongness.
The environment around us seemed… unstable.
The wind slowed.
The grass stopped moving.
The sky dimmed slightly, as if the world itself was losing clarity.
"…Do you feel that?" she asked.
I didn't answer.
Because I did.
Something was pressing down.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
Like an unseen force had begun to correct something that didn't belong.
"…What is this…?" I whispered.
The girl's expression shifted—just slightly.
Not fear.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"…It's already begun."
"Begun—what has—"
Pain.
Sudden.
Unnatural.
My breath was stolen from my lungs as something invisible struck my chest. I staggered back, collapsing to one knee as my body refused to cooperate.
"Ghk—!"
Another pressure followed.
Not a hit.
Not a force you could see.
But something that made existing itself feel… difficult.
"…Why…?" I choked out.
The girl remained still.
Watching.
Not helping.
Not interfering.
Only observing the outcome.
"This is the world correcting an error," she said quietly.
My vision blurred.
My thoughts slowed.
"…An error…?"
"Yes."
Her voice was soft.
Final.
"You were never meant to persist."
My strength began to fade.
Not all at once.
Gradually.
Like something was erasing my ability to remain conscious.
"…I… just got here…"
The words came out weaker than intended.
There was no answer.
Only silence.
And that pressure.
Increasing.
Consistent.
Unavoidable.
So this is how it ends… again.
The thought wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
Just… understanding.
Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.
And then—
Everything went out.
I opened my eyes.
Red light.
A crosswalk.
A familiar street.
Voices behind me.
Laughter.
My breath stopped.
"…No."
My hands began to tremble.
The signal changed.
Green.
People moved forward.
A truck approached in the distance.
Fast.
Too familiar.
My heart dropped.
"…No, no, no…"
Behind me—
The same laughter.
The same timing.
The same moment.
I turned my head slowly.
The truck was already close.