After I remembered my past life, I was surprised to find one thing hadn’t changed – how I dreamed.
Because I always watched my dreams from a distance, I knew right away I was dreaming. Whether the dream was pure fantasy or a simple replay of real events, I watched it all, fully aware of being in a dream. Maybe that’s why I stayed strangely calm, and why the details stayed so clear in my memory afterward. I was the complete opposite of my husband, who got swept up in dreams so realistic they messed with his head.
His dreams were in full color, engaging all five senses deeply – and he often had nightmares. When that happened, I’d wake him up and force-quit the dream. Half-asleep, he’d then explain what he’d been dreaming about.
”Ugh… thanks.” His voice was groggy. “If you hadn’t woken me up, I’d have been killed… Today’s dream was… we were attacked by zombies… my crew and I fought back-“
”That was rough…” He shuddered. “This time it was like a monster hunter game. Those monsters were brutal…”
”My allies kept falling. I was the last one standing…”
My husband loved war movies and zombie stories – especially anything with lots of gore. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stand that stuff and never watched it. I wondered if his nightmares were linked to all that visual input, but the timing was random, so I couldn’t be sure. He was always fighting for his life in his dreams, and each time, I saved him by waking him up.
My own dreams, even after becoming Rebecca, were still as detached as ever.
Today’s dream was about my past life – about my husband.
We were classmates in middle school. We were in the same class in our third year, and that’s when I first spoke to him.
Because it was a rural area, our middle school was large, combining students from three elementary districts. Kids who lived over thirty minutes away walked or biked – some even said the school in the next city was closer. Back then, each class had forty students, with nine classes total. I could have graduated without knowing some classmates’ faces, but I knew his. He was the captain of the kendo club.
The very first thing he ever said to me? “You’ll fall for me.” What a bold opening line.
To be fair, I didn’t dislike him at first – I actually liked him quite a bit. I just never expected him to start with a declaration that I’d totally fall for him. It didn’t bother me at all – it just made a lasting impression.
At the time, though, I had my first boyfriend. We’d just started dating over spring break. Caught off guard, I deflected with a vague smile. “Hmm, we’ll see. I’m dating someone right now.”
After that, we only spoke occasionally as classmates, and nothing remarkable happened until graduation.
The next time we met was at a small reunion during the summer break of our third year in high school.
”Reunion” might have been an exaggeration – it was tiny, just a few people who could get together after some half-hearted invites. Four guys, four girls. It was basically a group date.
”Whoa, it’s been ages! You haven’t changed at all!” one of the girls exclaimed.
”Right? Hey, do you have a pager or a PHS?” another asked.
”Nope.”
”Pagers are everywhere these days. Girls hog the payphones too.”
”That rapid-fire keypad action is an art form, I swear.”
I remember those conversations with classmates I hadn’t seen in years so clearly – yet I barely recall what I talked about with him, the one who actually mattered. Likely because the memories we made after that were so many, they buried everything else.
As we caught each other up on our lives, I learned that he didn’t have a girlfriend.
I was single too – I’d broken up with my middle-school boyfriend. On my sixteenth birthday, he said he wanted me, and I gave him my first time – only for him to brag about it to everyone like losing his virginity was a badge of honor. I got furious, yelled at him, and he fired back calling me a dead fish in bed. We broke up soon after.
Apparently the others at today’s gathering didn’t know about any of that, because when I said I was single, the talk turned to why we’d broken up. I was trying to figure out how to avoid the topic without making it more interesting, when he cut in.
”Does it even matter? They just weren’t compatible.” He shrugged. “Anyway, which universities are you aiming for? What about prep schools-“
He smoothly changed the subject.
My heart skipped a beat at his quiet thoughtfulness. Sitting next to him felt… nice. Then it hit me – this was the guy who’d told me directly, the first time we met, that I’d fall for him. The whole thing felt strangely fated, and suddenly I was very aware of him.
As the conversation continued, he casually took off his wristwatch. “It must be the heat – it’s itching like crazy. I’m going to lose it, so hold onto this for me,” he said, dropping it into my bag.
Predictably, I “forgot” to return the watch, and we met again a few days later. We did the usual – met at an aquarium. That day, I was supposed to give the watch back, but – surprise – I forgot again.
We started seeing each other constantly over summer break. One day, I visited his place – he said he lived with just his mom. It was a weekday afternoon, and she was at work.
”I like you.” His voice was steady, direct. “If you like me too, can I kiss you? If not, I won’t do anything. I’ll walk you home. And then we won’t see each other again. I can’t be friends with someone who rejected me.”
I think… he was confessing to me. The way he said it was unique and caught me off guard – but I liked him too, and the thought of never seeing him again was unbearable.
There were two universities I was planning to apply to. One was a private university in the prefecture, close enough to commute. The other was a top national university outside the prefecture, which my parents wanted me to attend – even though it meant living alone.
I didn’t want to be apart from him. A long-distance relationship? No way.
So I kept his existence a secret from my parents until I graduated high school. For the national university entrance exam, I wrote my entire essay in hiragana – effectively sabotaging myself.
I felt guilty for tricking my parents into letting me attend the private university, so I poured myself into my studies – seriously, obsessively, with everything I had. He went to a different university, but neither of us joined clubs, and we spent almost all our free time together. He majored in economics, and I studied English and American literature. Whether we were studying at the library or working on papers at his place, just sharing the same space made me happy.
When we both landed job offers during recruitment, he proposed. He said we’d marry after graduation. When he formally met my parents, he was so nervous he was practically vibrating. Meanwhile, my father – who’d long since gotten used to him – was completely relaxed about it.
”I have no problem giving you my daughter’s hand.” My father leaned back thoughtfully. “But wouldn’t it be better if you both got a few years of work experience first?”
It was a reasonable point – but I couldn’t help thinking that if I’d gone to that out-of-prefecture university, I would have left home much earlier anyway, so what was the difference? In any case, our engagement was approved, even if the date was still undecided.
Then things moved quickly when we found an apartment to live in together almost immediately.
”Living together is absolutely out of the question!” my mother declared, her voice firm. “If that’s your plan, just get married already!”
Thanks to my mother’s confusing logic, we officially became husband and wife right after graduation.
We had a debate: was our anniversary the wedding day or the registration day?
”If we do both on the same day, there’s no question.”
So we had the wedding and the legal registration all in one day. That day was totally insane.
”Looking forward to working with you, wife.”
”Likewise, husband.”
That night, curled up together on our futon in the new place, we talked about everything.
He asked me – belatedly – what my first impression of him had been. I giggled and answered honestly: “I thought, wow, this guy’s weird.”
It turned out the line had just slipped out because he’d fallen for me at first sight. He got pouty, and I had to soothe him. “But I was happy about it! You were already a good guy in my book. Which is weird in its own way, right?”
”Let’s talk things through, always. Let’s build a life together.” He propped himself up on one elbow. “First things first – anything you absolutely won’t compromise on? I’m just saying, the futon and the low table, I won’t compromise on.”
My husband was a big fan of Japanese-style living; apparently, the Western-style setup I’d suggested didn’t work for him. After some discussion, our new home ended up being Japanese-style. Our uncompromising stances differed, but it seemed like a good chance to get one thing off my chest.
”Absolutely no cheating.” I met his eyes, my tone serious. “Zero tolerance, no excuses, instant divorce. Everything else, we can discuss.”
”Oh. Same here.” He nodded firmly. “No way I’m sharing my woman with anyone. I will never cheat. Just wait – I’ll prove it to you in fifty years.”
We were two halves of one whole. What he was good at, I was bad at. What I excelled in, he struggled with. Did that mean our interests didn’t align? No – when we clicked on something, we clicked hard. We shared the same core values. We debated, but we never fought. Even when we did different things, if we weren’t in the same room, we got restless. Being together was our default state.
”Another version of myself.”
That was what we felt for each other – which is why-
”Shu-kun, are you oka-?”
”Saki! Saki! SAKI!”
When I realized we’d been in an accident, the only thing on my mind was whether my husband was safe. But he just kept shouting my name, and I couldn’t tell if he was okay.
If he had enough breath to yell like that, maybe he was okay…? I wanted to say that, but I couldn’t stay conscious anymore.
-And so, my past life came to an end.
”…Just my luck.” I groaned, pressing my palms to my eyes. “Of all days, why did I have to have a dream like this on the morning of my Social Debut?”
I slowly sat up, tears rolling down my cheeks. I missed him so much, it hurt. The grief was crushing my chest. Honestly, I wanted to throw everything away and go back to the estate. But I couldn’t do that, and I wasn’t going to. After I finished my obligations – the audience with His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen, followed by the ball – then I’d allow myself to be stubborn.
I couldn’t skip the royal audience. I knew my actions wouldn’t just affect me alone.
As for the ball – I understood that Her Majesty and my mother wanted me to find someone to love. I planned to go along with it this time, then declare that marriage wasn’t for me and I intended to remain single. I owed the noble gentlemen an apology anyway – and besides… there might be someone at that ball whom I wanted to see one last time.
I wiped away the tears. Gazing at the morning sky visible through the curtains, I renewed my resolve: once I got through today, I’d leave the capital as quickly as possible.
Summary:
Rebecca wakes from a vivid dream of her past life as Saki, reliving her entire relationship with Shu from their bold first meeting through marriage and their shared death in an accident. The emotional weight of the memory almost overwhelms her, but she forces herself to prepare for her Social Debut obligations to the royal family before she can retreat to her estate. The dream leaves her questioning if she can truly move forward while still grieving her former husband.
Trivia:
- Rebecca’s dream-detachment ability carried over from her past life – she always knew she was dreaming and remembered everything clearly afterward.
- Shu’s nightmares were intense because his dreams engaged all five senses fully, unlike Rebecca’s detached perspective.
- Shu’s first words to Saki were a bold declaration that she would fall for him – and he was right.
- Saki sabotaged her national university entrance exam by writing the entire essay in hiragana to stay close to Shu.
- Saki’s mother insisted on marriage over living together, accelerating their wedding timeline.
- Shu proposed they combine wedding and registration on the same day to simplify their anniversary.
- Shu and Saki died together in a traffic accident, Shu’s last words being Saki’s name.
- Rebecca still uses the nickname “Shu-kun” in her thoughts, showing lingering attachment.
- The Pocket Bell (pager) reference sets the story in the 1990s Japan.
- Rebecca’s current Social Debut ball mirrors the high school reunion where she and Shu reconnected.
Translation Notes:
1 ↩ A pager device popular in Japan during the 1990s before PHS and mobile phones. Messages were displayed in kana using telephone keypad combinations, requiring rapid typing skills.