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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: The Old-School System (1)
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My parents were incredibly indifferent to both of their children.
They were generally irresponsible, and at times, violent.
My upbringing could be summed up in a single sentence: I didn't learn that people ate three meals a day on average until I started elementary school.
My sister and I, unlucky in the guardian department, spent our childhoods under neglect, abandonment, and an oppressive attitude.
My sister's childhood couldn't have been much different from my own.
But despite growing up in the same environment, she must have felt for her much younger brother, supporting me both materially and emotionally until I became an adult.
When I considered giving up on college because I had no way to pay tuition, and when I was scrolling through part-time job ads, telling myself I'd just tough it out at home until I could save up for a deposit.
My sister, who had been saving money relentlessly, pulled me out of that house around the time I graduated high school, unable to fend for myself.
And she made sure I ended up enrolling in college.
‘This isn't just a gift. I'm gonna get it all back later.’
‘…I'll pay you back as soon as I can.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Let's see if I can get some filial piety from my little brother in my old age.’
‘Is it possible to survive your golden years on 15 million won?’
‘It's fine, I'll be collecting compound interest.’
‘Working adults really don't mess around, huh.’
In any case, with 15 million won and no repayment deadline in hand, I was able to completely separate myself from that house.
After that, I only had to be responsible for myself.
A college friend who heard the saga of my servitude at Hanpyeong Industries once asked me seriously.
‘If there are that many weirdos at your company, wouldn't it be better to just quit early on?’
My reply, as I sat across from him mechanically editing a ‘Hyung Line Cutesy Moments Compilation.zip’ video, was, ‘I wish I could.’
Who would want to keep working at a damn company that pays you peanuts and works you like a dog?
Especially while sticking fruit stickers on the faces of guys my age that I couldn't care less about.
But I couldn't. I wanted to pay back my debt to my sister as quickly as possible.
Even more so once I reached an age where I knew all too well how little a fresh graduate could save.
Unwilling to waste even a moment on a job change, I endured through sheer grit and spite. My only remedy was my bank balance inching closer to the target.
The day I finally paid off the entirety of the "Sister Loan" with money I'd earned by grinding my body to dust.
We promised each other that we'd live our lives doing what we wanted, even if it was just once a year.
We were too busy to meet often, but we'd still chat on messenger from time to time…
‘You ready to buy me a bag at the duty-free shop?’
‘I'm ready to make them announce a lost person over the duty-free PA system for you.’
‘You think I wouldn't do it?’
…saying things like that.
And that very next winter, my sister passed away in an accident.
It happened less than thirty minutes after we'd parted ways in front of a café near her home.
Our last conversation was so mundane that I can't even remember it.
That moment, on that day, was the last time I would ever see my only family.
Is there anyone who hasn't, at least once, imagined a dead family member coming back to life?
But the dead don't return. That's what death is. The end.
My confused heart grew cold. In its place, a directionless rage filled my head.
‘How do I wake up from this dream?’
For the first in my life, I desperately wished for my morning alarm to go off, even a second sooner.
For this terrible sleep to end, so I wouldn't have to recall the emotions of the past two years.
But the alarm didn't ring. I felt as if I'd been left all alone in a bottomless silence.
+
[SYSTEM] A ‘handover’ will now be conducted for the ‘Second Party.’
+
In the meantime, another new message flickered before my eyes.
Let it spout whatever bullshit it wants.
I pulled the covers over my head and lay back down. If I didn't, I felt like I might slam my head against the wall.
But there was one thing I had overlooked.
In a situation where text was appearing in midair, there was no guarantee that other strange phenomena wouldn't occur.
The details of the ‘handover’ flowed unilaterally into my mind, as if I were reading a book or a document.
+
[SYSTEM] Handover Progress
▷ Notification of Work Period: February XX, 20XX (Synchronization complete, unchangeable)
▷ Manual Confirmation
▷ Process Confirmation
+
As I was about to smack myself in the head a couple of times, I noticed something strange amidst the unfamiliar information.
The year listed as the work period was nine years before the current year.
The season was off, too. Yesterday had been early autumn, but the designated period was February.
‘It's not like I've gone back in time or anything.’
I glanced toward the window, where lush greenery should have been. Instead, I saw a few bare tree branches outside.
‘…!’
The view outside was the spitting image of a chilly winter.
The sun was up, but the window was fogged with condensation, and I could clearly see leafless, desolate branches swaying in the wind.
‘Where's my phone?’
I reflexively searched for my phone. It was in its usual spot, right next to my pillow.
But it wasn't my model. To be precise, it wasn't my *current* model.
Before me was the 2G phone I had used almost ten years ago.
It was a phone I'd gotten back when everyone else was using smartphones, bought to focus on my studies and because the cost of a new device was a burden.
In a Korean society where adult smartphone usage exceeds 90%, here was a brick phone that looked like it could probably even block caller ID.
Too many things were strange.
The face of the "Center Emperor" Choi Jeho, much younger than in my last memory, and this phone, which I was sure I'd thrown away long ago because it wouldn't even turn on—they all pointed to a single possibility.
As if possessed, I entered my old password on the lock screen. Unbelievably, the phone unlocked.
What was even more unbelievable was the date displayed on the phone.
‘…It's nine years ago.’
The same date as the work period notified by the system, from the time when I used to look up English words on this very phone.
The year when Choi Jeho, the Center Emperor my age, was twenty, and the year Spark was racing toward their debut.
I felt the blood drain from my entire body.
I ran both hands over my parched—no, my now-moisturized face, younger by about 3,400 days than it was yesterday.
Sis…
I think I'm screwed…
* * *
A bright winter morning.
A room, peaceful and quiet, as if the rest of the world were still sound asleep.
Sitting within it, me, who'd woken up to find myself a sudden nine years younger.
And now, being forced to become an idol with my sister and my future held hostage (Age 29 / Office Worker).
I checked my reflection, faintly visible on the screen of the powered-off phone.
Even on the black screen, I could see my improved complexion and the noticeable reduction in my dark circles. It was exactly my face from just after I'd graduated high school.
‘I really am younger.’
Was that why I felt so refreshed when I woke up? Because I'd gotten younger? If so, that's kind of sad.
If it were just me who'd gotten younger, that'd be one thing, but since all of time has reversed, it seems more appropriate to say I've come to the past.
If I could at least get on the internet, I could know for sure. But that was a pipe dream with this brick phone.
Suddenly, I had an ominous premonition.
‘Don't tell me I died and came to some kind of afterlife.’
I know it sounds crazy, but if this is the underworld, couldn't text just appear in front of my eyes?
However, the probability of a twenty-nine-year-old man dying in his room while making a banner for a disbanded idol group was about as slim as the plausibility of my current situation.
Something was definitely very wrong, but I didn't think I, who had been living a perfectly normal life, would have just dropped dead.
Besides, debuting a dead guy as an idol in the afterlife?
That's insane.
It's more rational to assume time has turned back.
‘Wait.’
If time itself has reversed, then I don't need to debut as an idol to save my sister, do I?
It's just a matter of meeting her right now and convincing her to listen to me and live a long life.
I quickly looked for my sister's number in my contacts. But the phone book was empty.
A cleanliness that should never have been seen on my phone, which had been filled with the numbers of every company president imaginable.
Fortunately, I knew her number by heart. I quickly dialed it and made the call.
— The number you have dialed does not exist.
But what came back was an unexpected automated response.
I checked the number again, but it was definitely correct. Something was strange.
‘My sister never changed her number.’
It didn't really matter. If I couldn't reach her by phone, I could just go find her.
I picked up my phone and got out of bed.
But my momentum didn't last long.
‘Where did my sister live again?’
I couldn't remember the neighborhood or the name of her building at all. My other memories were vivid, but it was as if only that part of my memory had been scooped out.
Just as my thoughts reached that point, a long passage of text appeared.
This time, it was closer to the form of a document than a message.
+
[SYSTEM] The ‘Life Reuse Manual’ will now be disclosed to the ‘Second Party.’
▷ Waking up at a point in the past, based on your previous life, is considered a ‘life reuse.’
▷ Once a reused life has begun, returning to the previous life is not permitted.
▷ Memories and knowledge acquired in the previous life can only be used within the permitted scope. Violations will result in penalties.
▷ If memories and knowledge from the previous life are deemed to hinder the achievement of the reused life's task, the use of existing memories may be restricted without the ‘Second Party's’ consent.
▷ Ancillary items (résumé, scheduler, etc.) will be provided for a smooth life reuse.
+
I didn't fully understand what it all meant, but one thing was for sure.
Something was well and truly messed up.
I just woke up because my eyes opened, and it's already been processed as a 'life reuse'?
It felt like buying a defective product that was already opened, only to be told that opened items are non-refundable.
I may have wanted to change my lifestyle, but that didn't mean I wanted to change my entire life.
By the fourth item, I wanted to give up thinking altogether.
Simply put, it seemed like if I tried to achieve the final reward—reuniting with my sister—through some back-channel route without meeting the KPIs, compulsory measures would be activated.
For example, by erasing my memories, the very links that could connect me to my sister.
‘What if I decide to go to the place where the accident happened and wait for my sister to arrive…’
I tried to recall the date of my sister's death and the location of the accident.
And I failed. It was like a hole had been punched in a corner of my mind; I couldn't remember a thing.
* * *
What are the odds of a person suddenly reversing the flow of time in their life?
And on top of that, being forced into a career change you never asked for, with your family and future held hostage?
The chances that the assigned job is none other than an idol, who has to sparkle and shine?
And if I refuse, I have to work for the rest of my life at the same job that had me working overtime seven days a week?
I don't know much, but I know this is one royally screwed-up case.
I moved through the stages of denial and anger, and entered a state of resignation.
As long as the condition was that my sister could live, I had no choice but to accept.
This was the filial piety I couldn't even fully provide when she was alive. How could I not do it?
And I didn't want to get tangled up with the god-awful Hanpyeong Industries anymore.
In that case, the only thing left to do is make a spectacular debut as a six-member boy group.
With Spark… a debut?
A chill ran down my spine. It was more than a dagger to the heart; my vision went dark.
Objectively speaking, Spark wasn't a bad group.
It was just that I personally held a grudge against them; based on their individual skills, I should have been on my knees begging them to accept me.
If you were to broadly categorize the idols active in our country,
1. Problematic idols
2. Idols who have no problems but get bashed for no reason
3. Idols who disappear without a trace, their debut having gone unnoticed
into these three groups.
Spark had one foot in the 'problematic idols' camp and the other in the 'bashed for no reason' camp.
All the members had clean public pasts. No drugs.
But starting with personality controversies, Spark was constantly embroiled in all sorts of scandals, establishing themselves as the new issue-makers of the idol scene.
≫ Those who wish to learn noise marketing, lift your heads and look upon SPK
└ Isn't Spk just noise, not noise marketing?
└ It's def marketing, their recognition skyrocketed every time a scandal broke lolol
Now, imagine me joining this group.
When Civilian 1 joins a visual group that gets criticized for everything *but* their looks, the expected reactions are as follows:
≫ One mudfish ruins the whole pond, right? He's dragging down the whole group's visual average by himself, right? That takes talent, right?
└ Five of them are pristine water, but one is sewage-grade, so the water pollution is insane. No subject mentioned.
└ Is this guy's face for real? My heart shrivels.
Likewise, it was easy to predict the reactions when Civilian 1 joined a jewel of a group, said to be presidential candidates of the idol scene based on skill alone.
≫ One mudfish ruins the whole pond, right? His awkward show was epic, right? That takes talent, right?
└ I'm getting second-hand embarrassment just watching, but he's so damn confident. His mentality is top-tier, at least.
└ Fck, what's the point of a top-tier mentality when the guy himself is bottom-tier?
My existence was poised to pour oil on the fire of an already controversial group. The mere thought of it was the worst.
Why me, of all people?
Why Spark, of all groups?
There must have been at least two hundred people who wanted to debut with Spark more than I did.
I stared at the message still floating in the air, probably with all the light gone from my eyes.
Then, my gaze suddenly fixed on one part.
+
▷ Ancillary items (résumé, scheduler, etc.) will be provided for a smooth life reuse.
+
Ancillary items, huh.
Is it like a welcome kit? Hanpyeong Industries was such a shithole company, they never gave us anything like that.
I glared at the screen, wondering how I was supposed to receive these ‘ancillary items.’
And just then, a new screen actually appeared.
What popped up before my eyes was a résumé with a familiar layout.
The résumé of none other than me, ‘Kim Iwol.’
