01. Re-starting

May 2, 2234. Weather: Rain.

* * *

Am I destined to be alone forever?

“Gasp.”

“Hajin, Hajin.”

“Hajin, are you okay?”

The men who had just entered the room immediately spotted Hajin awake and rushed to his side. Hajin, who had been staring blankly at the two figures that suddenly barged in, let out a small “Uh…” with a dazed expression.

His last memory was of reading a novel, only to be hit with a sudden realization about his sexuality. The confusion and frustration that followed annoyed him so much that he decided to have a drink and go to sleep.

After somehow making it through all five volumes of the bittersweet yet embarrassing novel, Hajin had been on his way to a nearby convenience store when, by sheer bad luck, he was hit by a drunk driver.

To make matters worse, the accident happened on a deserted sidewalk in the dead of night, with no witnesses around.

And yet… what on earth was going on? He distinctly remembered lying on the road, his body drenched in blood, staring in shock at his own twisted limbs, his arms and legs bent at unnatural angles.

No, wait— Vroooom! The deafening roar of an engine echoed in his mind, followed by the sight of a car speeding off into the distance. As Hajin recalled that moment, a sharp headache struck him again. He groaned, clutching one side of his head.

Seeing this, one of the men quickly reached out, his gaze scanning Hajin’s complexion with concern.

“…Adam?”

“At least it doesn’t seem like you’re seriously hurt.”

Adam smirked as he spoke. Hajin, who had been sitting there with his mouth slightly open in a daze, as if entranced by something, suddenly snapped back to reality. His face flushed red in an instant.

“W-why are you looking at me like that?”

Adam tilted his head slightly, as if he had just witnessed something peculiar. Hajin opened his mouth, as if to say something, but after a few failed attempts, he clamped his lips shut again.

The gray eyes watching him seemed to silently urge him on—What’s wrong? If you have something to say, just say it.

But in the end, Hajin couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, he clenched the bedsheet tightly, his fingers digging into the fabric. His cheeks, already warm, now burned even hotter, making his embarrassment all the more unbearable.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

What… what the hell is going on?

Hajin’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His mind was still struggling to process everything when an irritating noise rang in his ears.

His heart was racing—faster than when he first woke up. The rapid beeping of the monitor was undeniable proof that his pulse belonged to someone still alive.

“Hajin?”

The other man standing beside Adam noticed the sudden increase in the machine’s pace and turned to him with concern. Hajin, now painfully aware that his racing heartbeat had been exposed, panicked even more, his eyes darting around in a flustered mess.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” the man commented.

Adam’s voice rumbled in his ears, a deep resonance that sent a strange shiver through him. Then, as if a fog had lifted, it cut through with sharp clarity, pulling Hajin back to reality.

Snapping out of his daze, Hajin’s eyes widened as he stared at the two men before him. He had expected Adam’s voice to be ordinary, but hearing it in real life was something else—it was richer, smoother, far more pleasant than he had imagined. The unexpected allure of it jolted him wide awake.

Trying to steady his erratic heartbeat, Hajin focused on the faces of Adam and the other man, forcing himself to calm down.

His last memory was of his own bloodied body, sprawled across the pavement, and the terrifying sensation of plummeting into an endless abyss.

As those fragmented images replayed in his mind, a realization struck him with breathtaking clarity.

‘My life… has started over!’

In the novel, Adam’s appearance had only been briefly described with a passing remark—he’s handsome. But since he was just a minor supporting character, there had been no detailed explanation of his features. Hajin had simply accepted that as all there was to know and moved on.

However, now that Adam was standing right in front of him, Hajin realized the novel’s vague description had severely undersold him. He was far more attractive than Hajin had imagined.

Tall and broad-shouldered, his muscular build was evident even through his clothes, drawing Hajin’s gaze despite himself. But what shocked him even more than the fact that he had died and come back to life—was the fact that he was now face-to-face with Adam, a character he had only ever encountered through words on a page.

His striking gray hair and eyes, something rarely seen in reality, blended harmoniously with his sharp features, making his beauty even more breathtaking.

From his strong, well-defined neck to the solid muscles beneath his fitted clothing, there was an undeniable aura of strength about him.

Hajin stared in a daze, nearly losing himself in the sight—until a voice called his name, snapping him back to reality.

“Uh—huh?” He blurted out, startled.

“It’s a relief you’re not seriously hurt. But you really shouldn’t get so involved in those kids’ fights. You’re not even from the material world, yet you always act like you are.”

The man standing nearby spoke while fiddling with a machine. Hajin, only now realizing that his heart was beginning to settle, absentmindedly let out a vague, “Uh-huh…”

Perhaps finding his response strange, the man, who had been focused on the machine, suddenly turned around. His long white coat billowed as he approached Hajin.

Grabbing Hajin’s hand, the man let out a contemplative hum.

And in that moment, as he leaned in, Hajin’s blurry vision managed to make out the name engraved on the man’s name tag.

The moment he read it, a deep sigh of resignation filled his mind.

「Mason」

Hajin wanted to read the rest of the name, but Mason moved too quickly, making it impossible to catch his full surname. As he stared blankly at the man, lost in thought, he suddenly felt a warm palm press gently against his forehead. His gaze instinctively shifted toward the touch.

“Get some rest, and you can be discharged tomorrow.”

“…Something’s off,” Adam muttered.

“Mason, are you sure Hajin’s okay? He looks even dumber than usual.”

“Adam.”

Mason gritted his teeth and called his name in a tone of warning. But Adam just chuckled, clearly amused, his expression annoyingly lighthearted.

So what if he was good-looking? With that smirking face and his teasing attitude, he was undoubtedly the type to get on people’s nerves. There was no way he wasn’t that guy—the smug, insufferable bastard in every story.

As Hajin stared blankly at the two men, the realization of his situation struck him like lightning. Internally screaming, he clutched his head in sheer panic.

At that moment, the heart monitor let out a long, piercing beep—, startling Mason. He immediately rushed over, checking Hajin’s condition, only to sigh heavily upon noticing that the pulse sensor had slipped off his finger.

His gaze, filled with the exasperation of someone dealing with a habitual troublemaker, bore into Hajin. Feeling the weight of the stare, Hajin reflexively wanted to blurt out, What? I didn’t do anything!—but he quickly realized he didn’t even have the presence of mind to argue.

Because there was something far more important at stake.

Mason, with his light blond hair. Adam, with his striking gray locks. Even their unnatural hair colors—shades that barely seemed possible in real life—made everything around him feel undeniably foreign.

As he looked back and forth between the two men, a horrifying truth settled in.

‘He had reincarnated as the protagonist of the novel.’

The most shocking part was that they were calling his name correctly.

For these men, who clearly had Western features, to pronounce Hajin so naturally meant that they had said it more than just a few times before.

Or maybe Hajin was just an easy name for them to pronounce? That was possible. But if he had enough awareness to pick up on their casual tone and genuine concern, then it wasn’t hard to figure out why Adam and Mason were treating him so familiarly.

‘And of all people, I became Hajin Orion—the one with the loosest morals in the entire story!’

He had picked up the novel purely because the protagonist shared his name. Who could have predicted that such a simple decision would come back to bite him like this?

Hajin had read plenty of fantasy novels about people being possessed by fictional characters, but never—not even once—had he imagined he would become the protagonist himself.

‘This is insane.’

Barely swallowing down a curse, Hajin winced as the dull throbbing in his head sharpened into something worse. He had thought the headache was subsiding, but now it was surging back with a vengeance.

Before he knew it, his body gave out, and he collapsed, clutching his head as he writhed in agony.

Adam and Mason, both startled by the sudden episode, rushed forward. Hajin was breaking out into a cold sweat, thrashing as if trying to escape from something unseen.

Mason moved first, grabbing hold of him to stop him from hurting himself, while Adam caught his shoulder from the other side, urgently calling his name over and over again.

Hajin wanted to say he was fine, but the crushing headache was so intense that even enduring it felt impossible. His mind was in utter chaos, overwhelmed by a flood of memories that clamored for attention, each one screaming to be acknowledged first. It felt as if his brain was about to explode under the sheer weight of it all.

The image of a computer receiving an impossible amount of data and crashing instantly flashed through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Ah…”

How long had he been writhing in pain?

By the time the headache finally subsided, Hajin collapsed onto the bed, completely drained.

As if it had all been a lie, the excruciating pain vanished without a trace. In its place, something new took over—Hajin Orion’s true memories.

They coiled tightly within the memories of Kwon Hajin, unfolding before him like a vivid documentary, showing how Hajin Orion had been born, how he had lived, and what had shaped him.

The two sets of memories twisted together, merging into an inseparable mess. It was so tangled that he could no longer tell which was the real Hajin anymore.

Then, suddenly, a phrase surfaced in his mind.

「December 25, 2235. Weather: Snow.」

Instead of questioning why that particular line had appeared now, Hajin found himself more focused on a different concern—What date is it right now?

“…What’s today’s date?” he asked.

“Today?”

Adam, who had been watching him skeptically, raised his hand and sighed. “Mason, there must have been an error with the diagnostic machine. Shouldn’t we scan his brain again?”

Before Hajin could even process what Adam was trying to do, he saw the man pressing something on what looked like a wrist device. A few beeps later, Adam gave a brief, matter-of-fact response.

“December 20th.”

Adam’s expression remained dubious, as if he still wasn’t convinced Hajin was alright. But Hajin didn’t have the time or luxury to care about that right now. He pressed on.

“…What year?”

“2235.” Adam frowned. “Hajin, are you sure you’re okay? Hey, Mason, did you hear wha—”

“There were no abnormalities in his brain scans,” Mason interrupted before Adam could finish, rubbing his chin as he studied Hajin.

Something about him seemed off. His face was still as blank as ever, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, something Mason couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Do we really need to run another full examination? Mason wondered, considering Adam’s suggestion for a moment.

But before he could decide, Hajin spoke up.

“I’m fine. So you don’t have to worry.”

He forced a reassuring smile, deliberately trying to ease their suspicions.

This wasn’t difficult—Hajin Orion had done this countless times in the original novel. Whenever he wanted to brush off a situation, he would always pull out this exact expression.

Of course, Hajin Orion’s smile had been nothing more than a tool to escape unfavorable circumstances and excuse himself from questioning. And right now, Kwon Hajin was using it for the very same reason.

“…Really? Well, if you say so.”

Adam, who had been annoying him about additional tests, finally shut his mouth. Though he still looked unconvinced, he decided to drop the subject and simply answer Hajin’s questions instead.

“You should stay in the hospital for now. You’re not seriously injured, but it’s best to monitor you for at least a day. If necessary, we could even run more tests, like Adam suggested…”

“No, no, Mason. I’m really fine, I swear. Haha…”

Hajin let out an awkward laugh as he slowly pushed himself upright. He reached out, his hands fumbling in the air as if searching for something. He hadn’t said a word, yet surprisingly, Adam noticed the gesture and moved first.

With a soft clatter, something familiar was placed in his hands. Instinctively, Hajin picked it up and slid it onto his face. As the world sharpened into focus, he took in his surroundings with newfound clarity.

The scenery was both unfamiliar and familiar, an odd contradiction that made his chest tighten.

Just yesterday, he had fallen asleep reading a novel as Kwon Hajin. But now, upon waking, he found himself inside that very novel—as Hajin Orion.

And his first thought wasn’t about his own predicament but rather—

How did I end up in this hospital bed?

Like a floodgate had opened, memories surged through him, replaying the events that led him here. Amid the overwhelming torrent of recollections, one face flickered like an illusion before vanishing.

“…Benny.”

“I knew it.”

Adam scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Benny’s waiting outside in the lounge. He’s a mess, crying his eyes out, snot and all. I’ve never seen the kid cry that hard before.”

‘Benny.’

Of all the characters in the novel, Benny was the one Hajin had grown the most attached to. It was inevitable—Benny, like Hajin himself, had been an orphan, growing up in loneliness and hardship.

The Benny Hajin knew was originally a ward taken in by Hajin Orion out of obligation, not choice.

The ‘Center’—a government-run institution that managed Espers and Guides—took in abandoned children with supernatural abilities, raising them under strict supervision.

Once they reached a certain age, these children were placed under the care of an adult Esper. The Esper’s role was to provide them with basic needs and ensure they didn’t recklessly use or lose control of their abilities.

But Espers were soldiers, people who fought with their lives on the line. Most had no interest in forming emotional attachments to their wards.

It was common for wards to die during the grueling training they underwent once they came of age, and the fact that their guardians rarely mourned them was proof of how detached the system was.