…Is this how it feels?
To starve?
No—
not hunger.
Something emptier than that.
Like my insides have been scraped clean, hollowed out… and yet, strangely comfortable. Light. Warm.
…Is this death?
Hah.
If this is what dying feels like, then it's not so bad—
"Jae-kyung!"
The voice cut through the haze.
"Jin Jae-kyung! Wake up already!"
…So-yeong?
My thoughts stirred before my body did.
I heard her. I definitely did.
But—
Why does she sound like that?
Why is her voice so high… so young?
Like when we were children.
…
Don't tell me this is some kind of twisted afterlife.
I finally die, and instead of peace, I get stuck spending eternity with a child version of my fiancée?
…What kind of punishment is this?
I swear, if this is karma, I'd like to file a complaint—
Smack!
Pain exploded across my face.
Before I could react, my body lurched violently, and the next moment I was on the ground, staring at a wooden floor that felt far too real.
"…What the hell?"
My voice came out rough, smaller than I remembered.
I blinked, pushing myself up slowly. The room came into focus—a simple wooden interior, a low bed behind me, morning light spilling through a narrow window.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
And standing in front of me, hands planted firmly on her hips, glaring down at me like I'd personally offended her entire bloodline—
Was a little girl.
Black hair cascading past her shoulders, black eyes sharp with irritation, her posture straight and unyielding despite her small frame.
"…So-yeong?"
The name slipped out instinctively.
She frowned immediately. "Why are you saying my name like that? Did you hit your head or something?"
…
No.
No, this—
This isn't right.
She looks ten. Maybe eleven at most.
And I—
I looked down at my hands.
Small. Unscarred. No calluses, no blood, no signs of the years that should've been etched into them.
My fingers trembled slightly as I touched my face.
Both eyes intact.
I shifted my leg.
Whole.
…
A dry laugh almost escaped me.
This is absurd.
"So-yeong," I said again, slower this time.
She clicked her tongue. "Stop calling me like that so seriously. It's weird."
…Yeah.
That tone.
That exact tone.
I remember it.
Back when she was still like this.
A kid.
…
Wait.
My eyes lingered on her for a moment too long.
Her figure was still small, but already well-shaped, her posture naturally graceful. Even now, there was something about her presence that drew attention—
"…What am I thinking?"
I rubbed my face roughly.
The hell is wrong with me?
That's So-yeong.
Yes, she's my fiancée—
But right now, she's a child.
Get a grip.
"You're acting really weird," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"I just woke up."
"You always wake up. That's not new."
…Right.
Same sharp tongue.
Same attitude.
Same—
Alive.
The realization hit deeper this time.
Alive.
Not a memory.
Not some illusion conjured by a dying mind.
Alive.
Standing right in front of me.
"…Hey," I muttered.
"What?"
"…What year is it?"
She stared at me like I'd finally lost what little sense I had left. "You really did hit your head."
"I'm serious."
She sighed, clearly irritated—
But before she could answer, it all came rushing back.
Memories.
Not from the battlefield.
Older than that.
Younger.
Quieter.
Jongnam Sect.
One of the Nine Great Sects of the Central Plains.
My home.
My father—an elder.
Her father—my master.
And his closest friend.
…
Right.
This is before everything.
Before the war.
Before I was formally taken in.
Before I lost—
Everything.
We're still third-generation disciples.
At the very bottom.
Unproven. Insignificant.
Still climbing.
The structure of the sect was clear in my mind.
At the top stood the Sect Leader, the absolute authority.
Below him, the elders—the pillars who upheld the sect.
And beneath them, the disciples, divided by generation.
First.
Second.
Third.
That's where we stood.
Me.
So-yeong.
Ji-hong.
Still children, in the grand scheme of things.
Jongnam wasn't like the rigid Taoist sects it came from. People could marry, have children, live beyond the sect if they wished.
But blood meant nothing when it came to power.
That was the rule carved in by the ancestors.
No favoritism.
No inheritance without merit.
Even the Sect Leader's own child could be cast aside if they weren't worthy.
And no one—no one—could force that decision.
It was the only reason Jongnam had remained clean for so long.
"…Jae-kyung."
Her voice pulled me back.
"What are you spacing out for? We're going to be late."
"Late…?"
"For the gathering, idiot. Did you forget already?"
…
Ah.
That day.
The day her father would begin choosing disciples.
The day everything would start.
…
I looked at her again.
Alive.
Annoyed.
Waiting.
A quiet breath escaped me.
"…No."
"What do you mean 'no'?"
"I didn't forget."
I stood up, my body still unfamiliar but light, responsive in a way it hadn't been in years.
This time—
"I won't forget."
She frowned, clearly not understanding, then turned away with a huff. "Then hurry up!"
And just like that, she walked out, not even bothering to check if I was following.
…
I did.
Step by step.
Each one grounding me further.
This wasn't a dream.
Wasn't a dying illusion.
This was real.
A second chance.
And this time—
I won't lose everything again.