It was a peaceful day—almost too peaceful.
The sun bathed the city in warm light as people moved through the streets with easy smiles. Some chatted with friends, others carried groceries, and children laughed as they ran along the sidewalks. Everything felt ordinary. Calm. Safe.
I walked down a familiar street toward the grocery store, idly thinking about what to cook for dinner. My life had always been busy—work, research, endless deadlines—but today felt unusually quiet.
Maybe that was why I looked up.
The sky was blue. Clear.
I rarely noticed it. As I passed a narrow alley, something suddenly grabbed my shoulder.
Before I could even turn around—A sharp pain exploded in my chest.
A knife.
I looked down in disbelief as the blade slid out, my blood already spreading across my shirt. The attacker said nothing. His face was hidden beneath a hood, his eyes cold… empty. For a brief moment, we stared at each other. Then he ran.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the pavement. People screamed. Someone shouted for help. My breathing grew heavy, each breath harder than the last. The world blurred as distant sirens echoed closer. Police arrived quickly—but the killer had already vanished into the maze of streets. I could feel the warmth of my blood soaking into the cold ground.
My vision dimmed.
Everything… was fading.
And then—Memories began to surface. I saw my mother in the kitchen, humming softly as she cooked. She would always smile when I came home from school, asking about my day. My father sat in the living room with his newspaper, occasionally glancing up to offer quiet advice. He wasn't a man of many words, but his presence alone made everything feel safe. Then my younger sister—laughing as she chased me around the backyard during long summer evenings. Back then, life felt endless. Simple. The memory shifted. I was older, standing outside a small café with friends after university classes. We talked about dreams, ambitions, the future—as if it were guaranteed. Someone joked that I'd become a world-famous scientist one day.
I laughed. But over time… those moments faded.
Work replaced them. Another memory surfaced. The laboratory. Bright white lights. The hum of machines. Papers piled endlessly across my desk. My coworkers were brilliant each obsessed with discovery. Dr. Hayashi argued passionately about theoretical energy systems while adjusting his glasses. Maria from the next department constantly reminded me to eat during long experiments… even though she forgot half the time herself. We spent countless nights there, chasing breakthroughs that could change the world.
But somewhere along the way… everything else disappeared. Missed birthdays. Postponed visits. Friends who stopped calling. All because I believed there would always be more time. But now—lying on the cold pavement, my blood pooling beneath me—I finally understood.
There was no "later."
Regret tightened around my chest more painfully than the wound itself.
I had spent my whole life working… but never truly living.
If only I had laughed more.
Visited my family.
Taken even a single moment to appreciate the sky above me.
My breathing weakened.
The world grew silent.
Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.
And as everything began to disappear, one final thought formed—
If I could be born again…
If I could start over. This time. I would live my life to the fullest.
And with that wish…
My consciousness faded into nothingness