Jiwon ate quickly.
Almost too quickly.
He emptied his plate with an almost unbelievable hunger, barely stopping between bites.
His mother stared at him from across the table.
“Slow down.”
Jiwon froze.
His chopsticks stopped halfway to his mouth.
His mother frowned.
“You’ll choke.”
For a moment, Jiwon simply looked at her.
That voice.
He had heard it thousands of times.
But it had been so long since he had heard it like this.
Alive.
Worried about him.
He lowered his chopsticks.
“Sorry, Mom.”
His mother blinked.
“Mom?”
Jiwon looked away.
“Nothing.”
She tilted her head.
“You’re acting strange today.”
“I’m just hungry.”
“Really?”
She glanced at his empty plate.
“You’ve been eating like you haven’t had food in a week.”
Jiwon smiled faintly.
“Maybe I was.”
His mother sighed and shook her head.
“Wait.
I’ll get you some more.”
She stood up.
Jiwon’s smile disappeared.
It must have been at least ten years since the last time I ate my mother’s cooking.
He had never thought of his mother as a particularly great cook.
Not back then.
It was just ordinary home cooking.
Something he had eaten so often that he barely noticed it.
But now…
After twenty years without it…
That simple meal had suddenly become his favorite food in the world.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
After breakfast, Jiwon returned to his room.
He closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment.
Then he looked at the clock.
He was going to be late.
“Right.”
He quickly grabbed his things and headed to the bathroom.
After washing his face and taking a quick shower, Jiwon returned to his room.
He opened his closet.
His school uniform was hanging inside.
Jiwon reached for his shirt.
The moment he put it on, he noticed something.
It was tight.
Very tight.
He pulled the fabric down and looked at himself in the mirror.
The buttons were practically begging for mercy.
Jiwon stared at his reflection.
“…Was I really this big?”
He already knew the answer.
Still, seeing it again was different.
His cheeks were round.
His body was heavy.
His black hair was too long, and the thick black frames sitting on his face only made everything look worse.
This was the body he had been born into.
The body he had hated for years.
Jiwon sighed.
After university, he had slowly started losing weight.
At first, it wasn’t intentional.
He had simply started working.
Long hours.
Cheap meals.
Skipping breakfast.
Sometimes skipping lunch.
He barely had enough time to think about food.
Then, little by little, the weight disappeared.
By his late twenties, he looked completely different.
His face had become sharper.
His waist had gotten thinner.
He had started exercising.
He had even stopped wearing glasses after getting contact lenses.
People who hadn’t seen him for years sometimes failed to recognize him.
Jiwon remembered those days clearly.
Back then, he had thought losing weight would solve everything.
It hadn’t.
His life had changed.
But he hadn’t.
He was still the same person who was afraid to chase his dreams.
The same person who watched other people stand under stage lights while he sat in the dark.
Jiwon looked at his younger reflection again.
Eighteen years old.
Overweight.
Awkward.
Lost.
But this time…
He smiled.
“I’ve got time.”
He adjusted his collar.
Then he grabbed his backpack.
Whatever happened to his body in the future didn’t matter anymore.
He wasn’t going to follow the same path.
Not this time.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon left the house and started walking toward the bus stop.
At least, that was what he thought.
He walked for a few minutes before slowing down.
Then he stopped.
He looked around.
Nothing seemed familiar.
“…Where is it?”
Jiwon turned his head from side to side.
The street looked different.
Or maybe it was him who had changed.
He had walked this route countless times when he was eighteen.
But that had been thirty-two years ago.
He pulled out his phone.
After opening Google Maps, he searched for his school and selected the public transportation option.
A route appeared on the screen.
Jiwon stared at it.
Then he followed the map.
A few minutes later, he finally found the bus stop.
He looked at the sign.
Then back at his phone.
“Here it is.”
He checked the schedule.
His eyes widened.
The next bus wasn’t coming for another twenty minutes.
Jiwon looked at the road.
Then at the time.
Then back at the schedule.
“…Wait.”
He checked the time again.
The bus he was supposed to take had already left.
Jiwon stared at the screen in silence.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He sighed.
After living for fifty years, he had somehow managed to miss the school bus on his first day back.
He turned around and started walking home.
There was no point waiting.
As he entered the driveway, something caught his eye.
An old bicycle.
It was leaning against the side of the garage.
Jiwon stopped.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then a memory surfaced.
He had owned this bicycle when he was younger.
He hadn’t used it in years.
Apparently, he had simply left it there and forgotten about it.
Jiwon walked over and grabbed the handlebars.
Dust covered the frame.
He looked down.
The tires were completely flat.
“…Of course.”
He crouched down and pressed one of them with his thumb.
Nothing.
The tire was as soft as a pillow.
Jiwon sighed.
“Thirty years ago, you were probably faster than me.”
He looked at the bicycle.
“Let’s see if you still work.”
He found an old hand pump in the garage.
It took several minutes to inflate the tires.
His arms started to ache.
Then came the chain.
It was stiff and covered in dust.
Jiwon worked on it until it finally moved.
CREAK.
He froze.
The bicycle made another noise.
CREAK.
Jiwon stared at it.
“…Don’t die on me.”
He pushed the pedals.
The bicycle moved.
Slowly.
But it moved.
Jiwon smiled.
“Good enough.”
He climbed onto the seat.
Then he started pedaling toward school.
The morning air hit his face.
For some reason…
It felt good.
He hadn’t ridden a bicycle in years.
Maybe decades.
The streets slowly began to look more familiar.
A convenience store.
A small park.
A corner he remembered.
Piece by piece, the old memories started coming back.
Jiwon smiled.
Maybe he didn’t remember the way anymore.
But he could always find it again.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Jiwon finally arrived at school.
He stopped his bicycle near the entrance and looked up.
The school building stood exactly where he remembered it.
Three floors.
A large central building with two smaller wings extending from each side.
The windows reflected the morning sunlight, and the wide courtyard was already filled with students.
Some were walking toward the main entrance.
Others were standing in small groups, talking and laughing.
A few students were running.
Probably because they were late.
Jiwon smiled faintly.
Nothing had changed.
Or perhaps…
Everything had.
He walked his bicycle toward the racks and locked it.
Then he picked up his backpack and looked at the school again.
For some reason, his heart felt strange.
He had spent three years here.
Three entire years.
And yet, standing in front of the building now…
It felt like he was visiting someone else’s school.
Jiwon walked through the entrance.
The hallway was crowded.
Students moved past him in every direction.
He looked at the classroom numbers.
First floor.
Second floor.
Third floor.
He climbed the stairs.
Then stopped.
He stared down the hallway.
“…Which one was it?”
Jiwon looked at the classroom doors.
There were too many.
He knew he had spent most of his time in one of them.
He knew exactly how the classroom looked.
The desks.
The windows.
The teacher’s desk.
The seat he used to sit in.
But the number…
Nothing.
His memories were strangely incomplete.
Jiwon walked a little farther.
Then stopped again.
He looked at one classroom.
Not this one.
Another.
Still nothing.
He frowned.
“Was it this floor?”
He pulled out his phone.
Maybe he could check his old school records.
But before he could do anything—
“Jiwon!”
He froze.
Slowly, he turned around.
A boy was standing several meters away, waving at him.
He was tall for his age, with a lean build and short, messy red hair that immediately stood out among the sea of black and dark-brown hair.
Jiwon stared at him for a moment.
Then he remembered.
Of course.
Lee Minjae.
His old friend.
Minjae had always been obsessed with a basketball manga, and when he was younger, he had decided to copy the hairstyle of his favorite character.
Apparently, some things really never changed.
“There you are!” Minjae called as he approached.
He stopped in front of Jiwon and looked at him suspiciously.
Jiwon stared at him.
The boy laughed.
“What are you doing just standing there?”
Jiwon didn’t answer.
“Did you forget where our classroom is again?”
Jiwon’s eyes widened.
Our classroom, right!.
He remembered.
Jiwon looked at the classroom beside him.
Then back at the boy.
A small smile appeared on his face.
“Yeah.”
He laughed quietly.
“I guess I did.”
The boy shook his head.
“You’re hopeless.”
They started walking toward the classroom together.
Jiwon glanced at him.
He remembered this boy.
They had been close during high school.
They had eaten lunch together.
Studied together.
Complained about teachers together.
Made plans about their futures.
But after graduation, their paths had separated.
Lee Minjae had entered Seoul National University.
Eventually, he had become a prosecutor.
They had stayed in touch for a while.
Then the messages became less frequent.
Months became years.
And eventually…
They simply lost contact.
Not because of an argument.
Not because of hatred.
Life had just pulled them in different directions.
Jiwon looked at him again.
Thirty-two years had passed.
And yet, standing beside him now, it felt like nothing had changed.
“What’s wrong?”
His friend looked at him.
Jiwon shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been staring at me for a while.”
“I’m just…”
Jiwon paused.
Then smiled.
“…glad to see you.”
His friend raised an eyebrow.
“That’s weird.”
“Why?”
“You see me every day.”
Jiwon laughed.
“Right.”
Every day.
The two of them continued toward their classroom.
Jiwon looked ahead.
For the first time, he understood something.
He hadn’t just returned to a time when his parents were still alive.
He had returned to a time when everyone was still here.
People he had forgotten.
People he had lost contact with.
People whose lives had gone in completely different directions.
And this time…
Maybe he didn’t have to lose them again.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The school day finally came to an end.
The afternoon sun hung low over the courtyard, casting long shadows across the emptying school grounds.
Jiwon sat on a bench near the back of the courtyard with Minjae beside him.
Most of the students had already gone home.
A few remained, gathered in small groups, talking about their plans for the evening.
Minjae was still talking.
“…and then he gave us another assignment.
Can you believe that?”
Jiwon nodded.
“Yeah.”
Minjae stopped.
He slowly turned toward him.
“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”
Jiwon looked at him.
“No.”
Minjae stared at him for a moment before sighing.
“You’re hopeless.”
Jiwon chuckled.
“Sorry.”
Minjae shook his head and went back to talking.
Something about their classmates.
Something about a teacher.
Something about what they were going to do after graduation.
Jiwon listened this time.
At least, he tried to.
There was something strangely comforting about it.
The sound of a friend complaining about school.
The lazy warmth of the afternoon.
The voices of students fading into the distance.
Simple things.
Ordinary things.
Things he had once considered meaningless.
How strange.
I spent thirty-two years wishing I could come back to this place.
And now that I’m here…
His gaze drifted toward the school gates.
…all I can think about is what I’m going to lose.
His father’s face appeared in his mind.
The man sitting across from him at breakfast that morning.
His voice.
His hands.
The tired expression he wore before leaving for work.
Alive.
Jiwon’s chest tightened.
I can still see him…
I can still hear him….
I even had breakfast with him this morning.
He lowered his gaze.
So why does it already feel like I’m running out of time?
His father would die before Jiwon’s nineteenth birthday.
Less than a year from now.
That fact had been buried somewhere deep in his memories, but now that he had returned to the past, it was impossible to ignore.
Jiwon began to think.
He couldn’t simply tell his father to quit.
Even if he somehow managed to explain that something terrible was going to happen at the construction site, why would his father believe him?
And even if he did…
What would come next?
His father worked because his family needed the money.
Jiwon was eighteen.
Nothing that would make an adult take his words seriously.
Dad wouldn’t listen to me.
Not because he doesn’t care about me.
Because he has responsibilities.
Bills, food, me…
mom…
Jiwon leaned back against the bench.
There had to be another way.
He didn’t need to convince his father with words.
He needed to change his circumstances.
If his father no longer had to worry about money, then maybe he could leave the construction site.
Maybe he could find something safer.
Maybe Jiwon could even convince him to retire early.
But that meant one thing.
Jiwon stared at the ground.
I need money.
The thought was simple.
The solution wasn’t.
He was eighteen.
Even if he worked after school, there was no way he could earn enough in a few months to completely change his family’s financial situation.
Starting a business was impossible.
Building a career would take years.
Borrowing money was out of the question.
And he didn’t have years.
He had less than one.
Jiwon slowly clenched his fists.
Less than a year.
That’s all I have.
Then another thought surfaced.
Something he had almost forgotten.
His memories.
Not just the memories of his own life.
Politics.
Entertainment.
Technology.
Business.
And sports.
Especially sports.
Matches.
Teams.
Players.
Results.
His eyes slowly widened.
For the first time since returning to the past, Jiwon saw a path that could actually work.
It wasn’t safe.
It wasn’t elegant.
But it was fast.
And right now, fast was what he needed.
“Jiwon?”
He turned his head.
Minjae was looking at him.
“What?”
“You’ve been staring into space for like five minutes.”
Jiwon blinked.
“Have I?”
“Yeah.”
Minjae frowned.
“Are you okay?”
Jiwon smiled.
“I’m fine.”
He stood up and adjusted the strap of his backpack.
Then, almost casually, he asked,
“Minjae.”
“Hm?”
“Do you know much about sports?”
Minjae raised an eyebrow.
“Sports?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you suddenly asking me that?”
Jiwon looked toward the school gates.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
“Just curious.”
Minjae shrugged.
“I know some.
Why?”
“Good.”
Jiwon started walking.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
Minjae quickly stood and followed him.
“What are you planning?”
Jiwon didn’t answer.
His thoughts were already racing.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The two of them walked home together.
Minjae spent most of the way talking about school.
A teacher they both hated.
An assignment that had been announced that morning.
A classmate who had somehow managed to fall asleep during a lesson without getting caught.
“Did you hear what Mr.
Kang said today?”
Jiwon glanced at him.
“No.”
“He gave us another assignment.”
“Already?”
“Yeah.
And it’s due next week.”
Jiwon sighed.
“That teacher really hates us.”
“Exactly!
I told you.”
Minjae laughed.
“And did you see Seungho during class?”
“Seungho?”
“He fell asleep again.”
“Again?”
“Again.
Right in the middle of the lesson.”
Jiwon smiled faintly.
“Did the teacher catch him?”
“No.
That’s the crazy part.
He slept for almost thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes?”
“I’m telling you, he has a talent for it.”
Jiwon chuckled.
“And apparently,” Minjae continued, “he still managed to answer when the teacher suddenly called on him.”
“No way.”
“I swear.”
For the first time that afternoon, Jiwon laughed.
Jiwon listened with half a smile.
It was strange.
Thirty-two years ago, these conversations had meant nothing to him.
Now, every ordinary word felt strangely precious.
When they finally reached Jiwon’s house, Minjae followed him inside without hesitation.
“Your mom’s home?” he asked.
“Probably.”
“Then I’m saying hello.
I haven’t seen her in forever.”
Jiwon paused for a moment.
Forever.
For Minjae, it probably felt that way.
For Jiwon, it was something else entirely.
He had spent more than three decades without hearing that woman’s voice.
“She’s probably in the kitchen,” Jiwon said.
As they entered, his mother looked up from what she was doing.
“Oh?
Minjae?”
“Hello, ma’am.”
“It’s been so long.
You two are studying together?”
“Something like that,” Minjae replied with an awkward smile.
His mother smiled warmly before returning to the kitchen.
“Don’t stay too late.
Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jiwon watched her for a moment.
Then he turned toward the stairs.
“Come upstairs.”
“Why?”
“I need your help with something.”
Minjae raised an eyebrow.
“My help?”
“Yeah.”
They went up to Jiwon’s room.
The moment he closed the door, Minjae dropped onto the floor beside the desk.
“So?”
Jiwon sat in front of the computer.
“I want to ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“How much do you know about sports?”
Minjae blinked.
“Sports?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you asking me that?”
Jiwon hesitated.
Because I need money.
Because I know the future.
Because my father is going to die.
Because I have less than a year to stop it.
None of those were things he could say.
“Just answer.”
Minjae thought for a moment.
“Baseball, I guess.
A little soccer.
I watch games sometimes.”
“Do you follow the players?”
“Some of them.”
“Teams?”
“Of course.”
“Results?”
Minjae stared at him.
“Jiwon.”
“What?”
“Are you planning to become a sports expert?”
“No.”
“Then why are you interrogating me?”
Jiwon ignored the question.
He opened a blank document on the computer.
“Tell me everything you remember.”
“About what?”
“Sports.”
“That’s way too broad.”
“Then start with baseball.”
Minjae sighed.
“You’ve gotten really weird today.”
“I know.”
“And you still haven’t told me what this is about.”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“You always say that when you don’t want to answer.”
Jiwon looked at him.
“Please.”
That single word made Minjae stop joking.
He studied Jiwon’s face for a few seconds before shrugging.
“Fine.”
He began talking.
At first, it was nothing special.
Teams, players, recent games, predictions for the upcoming season.
Jiwon listened carefully, occasionally asking another question.
Then he started writing things down.
Dates.
Names.
Matches.
Results he remembered.
Some were clear.
Others were nothing more than fragments.
Not enough.
He needed something more reliable.
“Do you know any famous matches coming up?”
“Coming up?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Just tell me.”
Minjae scratched his head.
“There’s a big game next month.
And there should be a few important baseball games later in the season.”
“Which ones?”
Minjae started listing them.
Jiwon wrote everything down.
His heartbeat slowly increased.
He had watched countless matches in his first life.
Some had been forgotten almost immediately.
Others had stayed with him for years because they were spectacular, shocking, or simply impossible to forget.
And there were a few he remembered perfectly.
Those are the ones I need.
Jiwon leaned back in his chair.
For the first time since waking up in the past, he felt like he had found something he could actually use.
Minjae looked over his shoulder.
“What are you writing all that down for?”
Jiwon closed the document.
“I told you.
I’ll explain later.”
“You’re definitely planning something.”
“Maybe.”
Minjae narrowed his eyes.
“Should I be worried?”
Jiwon smiled.
“No.”
Jiwon closed the document.
“Actually, I need one more thing.”
“What?”
“Do you know where people usually place sports bets?”
Minjae froze.
“What?”
Jiwon immediately realized his mistake.
“I mean—”
“Did you just say bets?”
“No.”
“You definitely said bets.”
“I said…
dates.”
“That wasn’t even close.”
Jiwon rubbed his forehead.
Minjae stared at him suspiciously.
“Are you trying to gamble?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
Jiwon looked at the computer again.
He couldn’t tell him the truth.
How could he explain that he had already watched these games happen once?
How could he explain that the result of a match taking place months from now was as certain to him as yesterday’s weather?
He needed a believable explanation.
“I’m trying to see if I can make some money.”
Minjae’s expression changed.
“Why?”
Jiwon was silent for a moment.
Then he answered honestly, at least partially.
“I need it.”
“For what?”
“My family.”
That answer made Minjae stop joking.
He looked at Jiwon for a few seconds.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then why do you suddenly need money?”
Jiwon lowered his eyes.
Because Dad is going to die.
The thought came so suddenly that his chest tightened.
He remembered his father from that morning.
The way he had sat at the table.
The way he had complained about the food being too hot.
The way he had laughed.
A completely ordinary morning.
One that Jiwon had once taken for granted.
“I just want to help my parents,” he said quietly.
Minjae didn’t ask anything else.
After a moment, he nodded.
“Okay.”
Then he pointed at the computer.
“So what do you need me to do?”
Jiwon looked at him.
“Just show me where I can bet.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Minjae smiled.
“Fine.
Let’s see how good you are at this.”
Jiwon turned back to the screen.
A small smile appeared on his face.
Let’s see.
If I can remember the future…
How much is it worth?