"…Is this it?"
The words escaped his lips like a sigh, barely audible over the quiet hum of the broken ceiling fan.
Min Jae-Hyun lay sprawled on the cracked bathroom floor, his shirt soaked with sweat, skin clammy and pale. His fingers trembled as they pressed against his chest, trying to soothe the pain clawing at his heart, as if he could will it to stop.
It didn't stop.
His breath came in short, shallow gasps.
He could feel something slipping, not just his consciousness but something deeper. It was like the thread that tied him to the world was fraying, strand by strand.
The air smelled like mildew and old ramen packets.
The only light came from the hallway, flickering like a dying firefly.
Funny.
He always thought death would be louder. More dramatic.
Not this… quiet.
He wasn't even afraid. Just tired.
So damn tired.
Most people feared dying alone.
Jae-Hyun used to as well, back when he still believed there was someone who might care.
But as time passed, so did that hope.
His mother was all he had left.
He had no friends. No lovers. No promises waiting for him in the future.
Just a cold floor. A tired heart. And a name that meant nothing in the world, he was born into.
"Min."
That was his family name. One of the great names in the country. A dynasty so wealthy that they owned entire city blocks.
And yet, here he was, the bastard child. The forgotten one. The one they pretended didn't exist.
He never needed a DNA test to confirm it.
The resemblance was in the mirror. In the slant of his eyes. The sharpness of his jaw. Even his voice, sometimes, when he lost his temper.
He was his father's son.
But he had never been a part of that family.
He wasn't sure when the pain started.
Maybe it had always been there.
Not the pain in his chest, that was new.
Physical.
Real.
But the other kind. The kind that sat behind your ribs, heavy and invisible.
The kind that grew every time he watched his mother come home with swollen feet, pretending not to limp.
The kind that gnawed at him when he saw news about the Min family, smiling in designer suits, posing for charity galas like royalty, while he and his mother argued over instant noodles and overdue rent.
He had always known who he was. And who he wasn't.
Maybe that's what made it worse.
He could've had it all. The name, the money, the power.
But he was born wrong. To the wrong woman. In the wrong place.
And no one ever let him forget that.
His breathing slowed. His fingertips grew numb.
He tried to stay awake, but his body had stopped listening.
Even blinking took effort.
"Guess this is it," he whispered again, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He hadn't lived well. He hadn't done anything worth remembering.
He had chances. He knew that.
He could've studied harder. Could've taken care of himself. Could've made something of the time he had.
But he didn't.
And now?
Now it was too late.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he murmured, voice breaking.
The darkness was gentle when it finally came.
But that wasn't the end.
He was still there.
Somewhere.
His thoughts lingered in the void like dust in still air. There was no body. No ground. No sky. No pain, either. Just… awareness.
He wasn't breathing anymore. Didn't need to.
He existed. That was all.
It felt like floating. Like dreaming without dreams.
Time didn't pass — or maybe it did. He couldn't tell.
Eventually, something stirred.
A presence. Not a sound. Not a shape. But something.
Ancient.
Vast.
Unknowable.
It pressed against his consciousness like the weight of a thousand oceans, and yet… it didn't crush him. It simply was.
And then, it spoke.
"Min Jae-Hyun."
The voice didn't echo. It didn't even make a sound. It just appeared in his head, a thought that didn't belong to him, inserted gently into the silence.
"Your life was not meant to end here."
He blinked, or tried to.
What?
"Too soon. Too quietly. A misstep in the order of things."
"…You're saying I wasn't supposed to die?"
"Correct."
"Then what now?"
Silence.
He waited. Not because he expected anything, but because he didn't know what else to do.
There was no panic in him. No begging. No desperate screaming.
Just… quiet acceptance.
Maybe he'd already mourned his own life.
He let out a breath that didn't exist.
"I didn't do anything right," he muttered. "I just wasted everything."
The voice remained still. Listening.
"I hated my life. But I hated myself more."
Still, silence.
"But I never hated my mother. She was the only good thing in my life."
There it was.
The only truth that mattered.
If he had one regret, it was her.
That now she had to suffer alone. That she had to raise him in the shadows and off of scraps while the rest of the Min family dined in gold.
She deserved better.
And he… he should've been the one to give it to her.
But all he ever did was disappoint. Live in the shell of someone who could've been more. Could've made something of himself. Could've stood in front of the world and said, I am Min Jae-Hyun, and I will not be ignored.
But he didn't.
And now he was here.
Wherever here was.
"...If I could do it again," he whispered. "I'd try."
The voice stirred again, softer now. Almost kind.
"Try?"
"Yeah. Not for me but for her. She deserved a better son."
A long pause.
Then, warmth.
It didn't come from any direction, it simply existed. Like light blooming from within his soul. Gentle. Slow. Comforting.
It wrapped around him, pulling him somewhere. Somewhere new. Somewhere familiar.
He felt the air return to his lungs. The ache of muscles. The beat of a heart.
And just before the light faded, he heard one last whisper:
"Then try."
When Jae-Hyun opened his eyes, the light hurt.
Sunlight poured in through a dusty window, warming his face. His shirt clung to him with the sweat of sleep. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths.
He was back.
But not quite.
This was his old room. The one they lived in before moving to that even smaller apartment. He couldn't have been more than fifteen.
His hands were smaller. His voice, not yet deep.
He turned, eyes wide, just as the door creaked open.
"Hyun-ah, are you awake?"
His mother's voice.
Hearing it made his throat tighten.
He swallowed.
"Yeah, I'm awake," he said, voice cracking.
"Come get breakfast, dear, it's almost ready," she said gently.
"Okay, Mom, I'll be right there."