Chapter 2: Park Chae-rin

I stood up from my seat and followed the class president out of the library.

I still couldn’t fully grasp what was happening, but her words about class starting soon pushed me to walk down the hallway naturally.

As I did, the view outside the window wasn’t the Isan High School where I worked as a social service worker—it was the Isan High School I had attended.

‘The outdoor library is gone.’

The outdoor library was built after I graduated.

Now, it was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the old basketball court that used to be there.

That wasn’t all.

The classrooms were all jumbled up, their locations completely different from the school I remembered in 2023.

And most striking was Lee Hayan, walking slightly ahead of me.

From what I’d heard, she was supposed to be studying abroad in the U.S. So why was she wearing the same school uniform as me?

“…”

I touched my arm, feeling the texture of the clothing.

It was unmistakably the soft fabric of the school uniform shirt I used to wear, and that sensation told me this wasn’t some absurd dream.

I reached into my pocket to check the date on my phone.

But all I found was a single lollipop from a brand I’d never heard of—nothing else.

“Class President.”
“Yeah?”
“What day is it today?”

It was a random question, and she could’ve been confused, but instead, she gave a bright smile and answered.

“What… you asking for candy?”
“Huh?”

Her reply didn’t make sense, and as I stood there puzzled, Hayan pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to me.

“Here, candy. You don’t have to beat around the bush.”

It was a common lollipop, the kind you’d see at a convenience store counter.

I reflexively took it since she offered, but I still didn’t understand why she gave it to me.

As I stood there holding the candy, dazed, Hayan spoke again.

“By the way, Joon, you don’t seem like the type to care about this stuff, but you’re secretly into it, huh?”
“Huh? Uh… yeah, I guess?”

With my half-hearted response, Hayan stopped walking, gave me a bright smile, and said softly.

“Don’t tell the other kids I gave you candy, okay? It’s White Day, so I brought some, but not enough for the whole class.”
“…Got it.”

Her words finally made it clear what day it was.

‘White Day?’

White Day.

March 14, the day when guys give candy in return for the chocolates they received on Valentine’s Day… or so it’s supposed to be, but at school, boys and girls just exchange candy with each other.

I glanced at the sign on the front door as the class president entered through the back.

[1-2]

No matter how much time had passed, I clearly remembered being in Class 2 during my first year of high school.

‘I was definitely in Class 2 as a freshman.’

The faint suspicion I’d been harboring started to fit together perfectly.

As I followed the class president into the classroom, forgotten memories came flooding back, and I could no longer call it a hypothesis.

“…F*ck.”

I had gone back eight years to March 14, 2015.

*

I needed sugar.

After class ended and break time started, I popped the candy I’d received into my mouth to sort out my thoughts, rolling the soft, sweet strawberry flavor around as I sank into contemplation.

‘Is this a hidden camera prank?’

That was my first thought—everyone was pulling a fast one on me.

But that idea had already flown out the window the moment I stepped into the classroom.

There was no reason for anyone to go to such lengths for a hidden camera prank.

And more than anything, my herniated disc, which used to ache just from sitting, had made me eligible for public service.

Yet now, after sitting in a chair for thirty minutes, I felt no pain or discomfort whatsoever.

‘No way a hidden camera prank could fix my back perfectly.’

Besides, the sights I saw while walking to the classroom couldn’t be explained by a prank.

‘Ugh… does this even make sense?’

It was hard to believe, but I had no choice but to accept reality.

No matter how or who did it, I had gone back in time.

To my first year of high school, no less.

“…Should I buy some cryptocurrency?”

The moment I realized I’d gone back in time, my first thought was, naturally, money.

In 2015, Bitcoin was still dirt cheap.

If I bought some now, I could easily multiply my money a hundredfold later and say goodbye to the life of scraping by… except.

‘I don’t have any money to multiply.’

If I’d gone back just three years earlier, I could’ve bought Bitcoin for peanuts, but in my memory, by 2015, it was definitely over 10,000 won.

An average person might think to save up pocket money to buy it, but in my household, even a few ten thousand won was too precious to spend on something like a single chicken.

‘Sometimes we even fell behind on rent, so where would I get money for that…’

Unless the money multiplied instantly, I’d have to wait at least three years for cryptocurrency to hit ten million won.

My friends and I used to joke about going all-in on crypto if we ever went back in time, but now that I was actually here, I didn’t even have the money to buy it, so I had to give up.

“Ha…”

If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve memorized some lottery numbers.

If someone’s going to send me back in time, shouldn’t they have given me something to work with?

‘Though I’m grateful my back is completely healed…’

Still, the thought of enduring another eight years of the hellish poverty I’d already lived through wasn’t exactly thrilling.

And above all, being a high schooler now meant.

‘I can’t buy cigarettes.’

Cigarettes—the pest of my life and my only solace, picked up while working grueling manual labor jobs every day after high school.

My body was clearly pre-smoking, still clean, but my nicotine-craving brain was tormenting me.

If I could just sneak out and have one cigarette, wouldn’t that be great? Is there any way?

I held the lollipop stick like a cigarette, trying to at least mimic the feeling.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar hand landed on my desk, drawing my attention.

“Hey, where’d you get that candy?”

I looked up from my slumped, pessimistic posture and saw who was talking to me.

I was startled to see a face more familiar than the class president’s, paired with a body decked out in solid muscle.

‘Yuma?’

Shimoe Yuma, my middle school buddy and best friend.

He’d said his dad got a job in Korea when we were in seventh grade, so his whole family moved to the neighboring country.

I liked manga and anime, so I approached him as soon as I saw him when I transferred to a new school,
and the relationship continued to the point where I kept in touch with him even after he returned to
Japan.

‘It’s been almost three years.’

He noticed my shocked expression but casually repeated himself.

“Nobody would give you candy, so where’d you get it? Did you steal it?”

My mind, still dazed, was hit with his sudden jab.

But I was so happy to see him that I grinned and shot back.

“You don’t need to know, Jap.”

A statement that would make anyone else faint in shock.

But the guy on the receiving end didn’t bat an eye and retorted.

“Definitely stole it, you Joseon punk.”

It was a dizzying exchange, but no one around us reacted.

Half the kids in this high school already knew we’d been like this since middle school.

And since it was White Day, a week after the school year started, everyone was probably used to it by now.

As I was catching up with my old friend through our somewhat rough camaraderie.

A commotion came from the back door of the classroom, making me turn my head.

“Ugh, seriously, you crazy b*tch, get lost.”
“Aww~ Why you gotta be like that~”

A group of girls burst in, giggling, their fashion, makeup, and speech screaming, “I’m totally a delinquent.”

The so-called “iljin” crew strutted in, their presence impossible to ignore.

‘Those girls…’

Back in the day, I’d avoid even making eye contact with their type.

But now, I couldn’t take my eyes off them, staring blankly.

“Ugh, stop clinging, it’s gross.”

Normally, I’d have looked away quickly, not wanting to get involved.

But one of them caught my eye and wouldn’t let go.

Sharp eyes that would make a timid kid look down instantly, a black bob cut, and a purple Adidas tracksuit always worn over her uniform.

“Chaerin-jjang, you’re so mean~”

Yeah, Park Chaerin.

We’d gone to the same middle school, so I knew her face and name, but we were never close.

I’d messed around with the guys in her crowd at school, but I barely paid attention to the girls.

She could’ve just been another delinquent girl I’d forget entirely, but I could never forget her.

And for good reason.

[Chaerin-ah! My daughter!]

How could I forget the girl who led me to my second funeral?