Chapter 1: I Got Reincarnated?

Everything hurt.

His back. His neck. Even his eyelashes, somehow.

Seo Joonwoo blinked up at the flickering bathroom light. A bottle of shampoo lay on its side, leaking across the tile like a crime scene. The mirror was fogged. The shower was still running.

(Did I... just fall?)

He groaned. Water pooled around him, lukewarm. His head throbbed like someone had hit him with a metal pipe. He slowly sat up, wincing.

And then it hit him.

Not the pain.

Not the shame.

The memories.

Hospitals. Cold sheets. IV drips. That damn beeping machine that never stopped.

(David Lee.)

That was his name. His real name. Or… his past name?

He was 19. Terminal cancer. Fought for months. Lost more than he won. In the end, he had nothing but time and webtoons. Dozens of them. Romance. Friendship. Street fights. Underdogs rising up. Guys who threw punches to protect their friends. Girls who believed in someone no one else did.

And now

Now he was here.

Alive.

Breathing.

Looking into the mirror through half-lidded eyes.

“…No way,” he whispered.

The face staring back at him was younger, Korean, unfamiliar yet somehow right. Jet-black hair. Sharper features. A bit taller than he remembered. Definitely better skin.

“Did I… get reincarnated?”

He laughed.

Then stopped.

It wasn’t a joke.

Because the memories of this life were starting to come back too.

Seo Joonwoo, age 15. Quiet. Awkward. Never got into fights. Never stood out. Just wanted to survive high school.

But tomorrow, he wasn’t going to just school. His dad, good old well-meaning Mr. Seo Junghwan, had enrolled him in a place called Taeyang Technical High.

Joonwoo no, David remembered thinking it sounded cool.

But his new memories said otherwise.

It was a warzone.

Not literally. But close. Gangs. Fights. Lawless hallways. A place where teachers turned a blind eye and students ruled with fists.

“Great.” he muttered, dragging himself up from the wet floor.

He looked at the mirror again.

He should’ve been scared. Panicking. Screaming.

But instead…

He grinned.

Just a little.

(Maybe this is it.)

A second chance.

He stared into his own dark eyes, droplets of water sliding down his face like a scene from a drama. But he didn’t flinch.

(This time… I’ll make friends.)

(I won’t be shy anymore. Seriously—this awkwardness? I inherited it from my mom. Sweet, but couldn’t hold a conversation without sweating like crazy.)

(But now... now that I remember who I was... I won’t stay that kind of boy.)

(I’ll talk more. Smile more. I’ll stop watching love stories from the sidelines and start living one.)

(I’ll fight, laugh, protect and maybe… just maybe… have that romanticism.)

He wiped the fog off the mirror with his hand.

“New life,” he whispered to his reflection. “New rules.”

A voice called from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready, Joonwoo!”

That was Seo Junghwan, his dad cheerful, clueless, and always one octave louder than necessary.

Joonwoo blinked, still staring at himself in the mirror.

“Be right there, Dad,” he called back, voice steady.

From further inside the apartment, another voice chimed in gentle, soft, but laced with that classic mom-tone warning:

“It’s getting cold, honey.”

That was Seo Yuna, his mother in this life.

Joonwoo exhaled slowly.

(I really got another family… a real home.)

He turned away from the mirror and grabbed a towel, drying his hair absentmindedly.

(Don’t mess it up this time.)

He stepped out of the bathroom, the faint scent of kimchi stew drifting through the hallway like a siren song.

His stomach growled like a dying lion.

“Finally, he emerges,” his dad said as Joonwoo shuffled into the dining room. Seo Junghwan sat at the table in his work shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair still messy from his afternoon nap. “We thought you drowned.”

His mom, Seo Yuna, placed a steaming bowl of stew on the table. “Don’t joke like that,” she muttered, smacking his arm with a ladle.

Joonwoo sat down. The table was modest: rice, stew, a few side dishes. But after two lifetimes and a hospital bed full of tasteless porridge, it looked like a five-star feast.

He took a bite and nearly cried. Spicy. Hot. Real.

“...This is amazing,” he mumbled, mouth full.

“Eat slowly, or you’ll choke,” his mom warned, sliding a water cup toward him. “You're always rushing.”

His dad leaned back and gave him a look. “You okay, though? You’ve been acting kind of weird since earlier. Zoned out, quiet, staring into space like you saw a ghost in the soap bubbles.”

Joonwoo paused mid-bite.

“...Just slipped,” he said. “My head might’ve hit... uh, reincarnation.”

“Hit what?” his dad blinked.

“He said recalibration,” his mom cut in without missing a beat, narrowing her eyes. “He’s going through puberty, Junghwan. Don’t make it worse.”

“I didn’t say anything—!”

“Exactly.”

Joonwoo smiled to himself.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t dramatic.

But sitting here, eating stew, listening to his mom roast his dad…

(Yeah… this time, I won’t take this for granted.)

But sitting here, eating stew, listening to his mom roast his dad…

(Yeah… this time, I won’t take this for granted.)

His dad suddenly spoke between bites. “Oh, by the way are you excited for your new school tomorrow?”

Joonwoo paused, spoon halfway to his mouth.

He looked at his father, deadpan.

Inside, though, his thoughts were spinning.

(You stupid old man... If I didn’t remember my past life, I’d be begging to transfer schools by now.)

(You think you enrolled me in some chill neighborhood academy, but no, you signed me up for Taeyang Technical High.)

(That school is infamous. If I were still regular ol’ Joonwoo, I’d be walking into a nightmare.)

(But now that I remember everything… now that I’m me again David Lee.)

His eyes lit up slightly.

(I’m actually excited.)

(I get to walk into the kind of story I used to read all the time—those gritty, emotional gang webtoons with beatdowns, brotherhood, and romance under flickering streetlights.)

(Finally… I get to live it. Punches with meaning. Loyalty with power. And maybe… fall in love along the way.)

“Hello…?” his dad waved a hand in front of his face. “Joon? You okay?”

Joonwoo blinked, snapped out of it.

He let out a small laugh and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah—sorry. I was just thinking how… great it is.”

His dad squinted suspiciously. “You sure you didn’t hit your head too hard?”

“He’s just growing,” his mom said, handing Joonwoo another scoop of rice. “Let the boy dream.”

“Yeah,” Joonwoo said softly, eyes distant again.

“Let the boy dream.”

To be continue