Chapter 2: The First Time Travel

Ah, shit. I’m late! As soon as I got home, I darted into my room and turned on the radio. The static crackled for a bit, and then a loud laugh burst through the speakers. Listening to the sound, I sat down in the chair and took off my coat. — Oh, so Seon-jae joined the company at the same time as In-hyeok? Then, Seon-jae, what was the hardest moment during your trainee days? I stopped taking off my socks and turned up the volume. It was Seon-jae’s turn to speak. — Uh... me? Um... His voice faltered, unsure, like he couldn’t remember well. That’s when Baek In-hyeok’s voice cut in. — You know, the Gamgam Bridge. — Ah, right. That day I lost my wallet. Practice had ended at dawn, and when I opened my bag, the wallet was gone. Not a single coin on me. But it was so late, I couldn’t even call home. So I had no choice but to walk. From the company to my house—it took about two hours. Maybe a bit more. And of course, bad things come in threes. My phone battery had died too, so I couldn’t even listen to music. It was winter, and to make things worse, I was wearing slippers, so my toes froze. At the mention of his frozen toes, everyone burst out laughing. — While I was walking across the Gamgam Bridge, the building lights reflected in the Han River looked weirdly sad. — I bet Seon-jae cried that night. — No, I didn’t cry. — Then did you cry in your heart? At Seo Yun-jae’s teasing, Baek In-hyeok and the others laughed out loud. Everyone was laughing—but I felt kind of sad. Because Seon-jae’s laughter wasn’t there. It wasn’t a video broadcast, so I couldn’t see his face. I felt frustrated, but at the same time, relieved. I couldn’t see if he was sad. It had already been nearly two years since Seon-jae joined Potato Pancakes. But fans still hated him. They left comments on sites and made burner Twitter accounts to hunt him down. There’s no way Seon-jae didn’t know. That his joining wasn’t welcomed, that fans were literally cursing him because of it. Some loud voices shouted at public broadcasts and fan signings: "Ryu Seon-jae, get out!" "Ryu Seon-jae, quit the group!" All that spiteful crap. His face, once full of bright smiles and hard-working energy, had recently started looking visibly exhausted. Burner accounts calling themselves Potato War Machines kept posting guesses that Seon-jae looked like he’d be gone from the next album. [Love you, Seon-jae. You beautiful thing.] I left that comment under a photo of Seon-jae uploaded to the group’s Instagram. Of course, it was from my second account. No followers, and the only thing it followed was Potato Pancakes' official account. I hit ‘like’ on the photo. Hoping he’d know that more people loved him than he thought. In the early morning, I frowned and opened my eyes to the buzz of my phone vibrating nonstop. Feeling around, I grabbed my phone and checked what was blowing it up. Messages from Hyeon-joo. [WTF.] [Crazy.] [Sol.] [Sol!] [Did you see the article??] [This is insane. What happened?] I didn’t know what it was yet, but a sense of dread crept up my spine. I quickly closed the message window and opened the browser. <Breaking News> Idol group ‘Potato Pancakes’ member Ryu Seon-jae, dead Ryu Seon-jae, a member of the idol group Potato Pancakes, passed away in the early hours of the 30th due to acute drug intoxication. A news outlet had reported that around 6:30 AM on the 30th, Seon-jae was found collapsed in a hotel in Jung-gu, Seoul. He was transported to a hospital but was confirmed dead upon arrival. <Breaking News> Agency denies overdose: “Not true” Ryu Seon-jae, who had long struggled with insomnia, had been prescribed sleeping pills for an extended period. The agency denied rumors claiming his death was due to an overdose, stating those articles were unfounded. But since Baek In-hyeok mentioned on V Live two nights earlier, “Seon-jae’s been sick with a cold lately,” people started speculating that he’d had a fatal reaction from mixing cold meds with sleeping pills. My heart pounded, and my hands trembled. I bolted upright in bed and searched “Ryu Seon-jae.” My heart was about to explode—tears suddenly poured out. Nonsense articles, all with the “Breaking News” tag, were flooding in. Tears splashed onto my phone screen, and my vision blurred. Without even thinking to wipe my face, I clicked “dislike” on all the hate comments and started replying to them. Bastards. What did Seon-jae ever do to you? What the hell did he do wrong? Feeling like the world had collapsed, I spammed hateful replies under the posts mentioning him. Eventually, all the burner Twitter accounts blocked me, and I was kicked out of the fan café. Why’d they block me?! Someone died, and this is how they act? It felt like the world had gone insane. I looked up at the poster of Seon-jae on my wall. My tears wouldn’t stop. Like my tear ducts had broken. “This can’t be happening.” I stared at the photo—Seon-jae standing in a reed forest with his eyes closed. And then I crumpled forward onto my bed and sobbed into the mattress. The agency eventually released an official statement on Seon-jae’s cause of death. He had gone into shock from mixing cold medicine and sleeping pills. But the article some journalists wrote was even more detailed than the statement. Like they’d stood in the room and watched him with their own eyes. According to the report: Exhausted from a severe cold, Seon-jae barely ate dinner and went straight to his hotel room. He took a shower. Hating the feel of hotel bathrobes, he wore an oversized hoodie and shorts instead. He took one pill of cold medicine bought from a nearby pharmacy and drank an entire bottle of syrup. Then, to sleep, he downed five sleeping pills that had been prescribed to him. That was the last anyone saw of twenty-three-year-old Ryu Seon-jae. The comment section was flooded with backlash: “Did you see it with your own eyes, you clickbait scum?” Some mocked the fact that he didn’t like hotel robes. But if you were a fan, you already knew. He had sensitive skin and often got rashes from them. He’d mentioned it on V Live a few times. — The next station is City Hall. City Hall Station. Doors will open on the left. For transfers to Line 1 toward Cheonan, Incheon, or Soyosan, please transfer at this station. I pulled my scarf up over my face and lowered my head. My shoulders trembled as the sobs kept leaking out. I stuffed my phone deep into my coat pocket, cursing myself for reading that article in the subway. My eyes were so swollen from crying all night, I shut them tight again. Another tear rolled down and soaked my scarf. On the way home from the station, I stopped at a convenience store and bought a pack of soju. Poked a straw in and drank it as I walked. As the alcohol hit my system, the emotions surged again, and I started sobbing all over. “Uwehhhhh.” There was no one around. I walked through the empty night streets, crying aloud. Sobbing, gulping down soju, sobbing again, gulping again. I looked up at the sky—it all felt too unreal. “Seon... hic... Seon-jaeeee...” I shut my eyes tight and took another step forward— And suddenly bumped into someone’s shoulder. The impact made me stumble back, and I ended up falling on my butt. If someone knocks you down in the street, shouldn’t they at least stop and ask if you’re okay? I looked behind me, but the person just kept walking away without so much as a glance back. “You could at least say sorry! Huuuuuuhuhuhuhuhhh!” As if the grief weren’t enough, now this shoulder hit? I was overwhelmed. I buried my face in my knees and cried there for a long time. When I finally started to calm down, I looked up and wiped my eyes. I picked up my fallen bag and stood up. Thud. Something dropped. I bent down and picked it up—a flat, round chunk of metal that fit in my palm. I pushed the lid open with my thumb, and a dial popped up. A pocket watch. The hour hand pointed at eleven. Holy crap, it’s that late? I pulled out my phone to check the time—eleven o’clock on the dot. Same as the watch. I glanced back toward the direction that person had gone. Must’ve been theirs. Sniffling, I shoved the watch and my phone into my coat pocket and walked on. Lying on my side in bed, I stared blankly at the wall. Every inch of my room’s walls was covered in Seon-jae’s photos. The person I loved most in the world had died, And not a single person had asked me if I was okay. Because I never showed it. I was just that good at pretending to be normal. Nobody knew. Not a soul. I’d completely hidden it. That thought alone made my eyes sting again. Just then, I heard the sound of a bell ringing from the neighbor’s place. Their TV was so loud I could hear the newscaster’s voice through the wall: “Happy New Year! Wishing all our viewers a prosperous year ahead!” I jumped up and banged my fist against the wall. “Turn your damn TV down!” Bang bang— The neighbor pounded the wall back even louder. “Then stop howling like a ghost!” “...Howling...” My lower lip stuck out, and my nostrils flared. The tears came rushing back. I crawled under the blanket and cried silently. It was January 1st. A new year had begun. But Seon-jae hadn’t made it to this new year. A new year without Seon-jae. I buried my face in my pillow, crying, and then rolled over, curling my body up. I pulled the blanket tighter and buried my face again. “Uuuuuuuhhh...” Even though I clenched my teeth shut, the sobs still leaked out. Give him back. Give Seon-jae back, you damned world. I wiped my tears and shifted under the blanket. Something underneath my butt made a crunching sound. What the—my phone? I let go of the blanket and groped around the mattress. Light began to glow from under the covers. I looked down, and the light, which had started under my hip, began to spread. “What... what is this...” The light bursting out from under me suddenly flared, flooding my vision. It was so bright it felt like I was going blind. I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed. “Aaagh!!!” The light, which felt like it was going to explode, vanished in an instant. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell. “Sol. I'm Sol.” Someone was grabbing my shoulder and shaking me hard. Huh? What? I snapped my head up—and locked eyes with a pair of familiar black pupils. A familiar face stared down at me with an awkward expression, motioning upwards with her chin. I followed her gaze and saw a very displeased woman standing there with her arms crossed, glaring at me. ...Huh? Wha...? “You’re not just sleeping during class now, you’re sleep-talking too? What, do you want to run laps around the field?” My mouth dropped open on its own. Why was the ethics teacher here? I looked down—my textbook was soaked with drool and lay open on a square desk. Navy blazer, navy vest, a reddish-orange tie. I was wearing a school uniform... I turned to check the face I had seen just a moment ago. A familiar face. It was Eun-hee who sat next to me back in 11th grade. What the hell is this? A dream? Thunk. The ethics teacher rapped me lightly on the head with her knuckle. It hurt. “Take your textbook and stand at the back of the class.” She raised her voice at me, still sitting there blankly. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. The teacher’s brow furrowed. Why... does this feel real? “...Yes.” My god. My voice—actually came out? I grabbed my textbook and pushed the chair back. I walked to the back of the room. Standing there, staring at the classroom from behind, I could only think: This is insane. What is this? With the book in one hand, I reached into my pocket. I felt it. The same pocket watch I’d picked up earlier—the one with the engraved character 運 for “fate.” Its dial was marked with Roman numerals from 1 to 12, but the hands now pointed differently than before. Twelve o’clock? I glanced at the wall clock in the classroom. 3 p.m. A broken watch? No—this is just a dream. Just then, a knock. The front door of the classroom opened. Rimless glasses, hair tied up tightly. The school nurse. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m here for health screening results. Can I speak with Im Sol for a moment?” All eyes turned to me, standing at the back of the room. Blinking dumbly, I stood frozen until the ethics teacher gestured for me to go. I tucked the book under my arm and stepped out through the rear door. A few steps, and I was in front of the nurse. If my memory was right, she was going to say something like, “You’ve got acute anemia—go get a prescription for iron supplements.” “II'mSol, your results came back showing your iron levels are well below normal. It’s acute anemia. If we leave it untreated, it could get serious. You need to start taking supplements.” Just as I remembered. “Have you ever felt dizzy when standing up? Or like you were going to faint?” She looked at me strangely, seeing how dazed I was. “I'm Sol?” “...Yes?” “Are you okay?” Of course not. I turned my gaze past the hallway window to the field outside. The trees planted around the edges were turning red with autumn leaves. At the far left end, construction walls were up for a cafeteria rebuild. The cafeteria rebuild... I remembered. When the noise irritated the students, the discipline teacher had shouted, “You guys don’t even listen in class anyway!” Right as I thought that, the sound of building debris collapsing thundered behind the construction barriers. Dust flew into the air. I know this scene. Because this... is my past. I sat on the bus, legs shaking with nerves. Gnawing my thumbnail with my teeth. — Next stop: Jagam High School. Following stop: Jagam Intersection. I raised my head and looked out the window. Lined ginkgo trees stretched along the long road. We passed an overpass, and the scenery opened into a place I had walked once before. A long time ago, I had come to visit the school Seon-jae went to, just to step on its grounds. I’d kept circling the area near this very overpass, lost because I’d misread the map. I pressed the stop bell and stood by the rear door. My heart was pounding. Tim flows seamlessly, the weight of it palpable in my chest. Is this what lucid dreaming feels like? Is it always this vivid? Leaving the school nurse behind, I ran out of the school. This past—it was six years ago. How is it even possible to replay something from six years ago this clearly? But if this really is a dream of the past, If I’m just being dragged through a vivid rewind with no control, Then maybe—just maybe—I might meet the Seon-jae I never got to know. Just earlier, I’d tried to catch a cab like I always did out of habit. But that damned wallet didn’t have a single bill in it. And of course, even the old fake Prada wallet I used back then was faithfully recreated. So I had no choice but to take the bus. On the way to Jagam High, I glanced at a store window—and caught sight of my reflection. Short, choppy bangs. Long hair tied back. Pink knit socks pulled up over black stockings. That’s me. That’s me from six years ago. I actually whispered, “Holy crap.” My walk turned to a jog, then to a run. My heart felt like it might burst from hope and desperation. Even if this was just a dream, if I could see Seon-jae, I wanted to tell him. That so many people in this world loved him. That it was just that their voices weren’t as loud as the haters’. He was truly a lovable person. I was gasping, my side aching, back hunching over. I raised my head as I exhaled. There it was. The signboard that read: “Jagam High School.” Holy shit. I’m shaking. I crossed the school gate in long strides. I told myself it’s just a dream, so there’s nothing to fear— But my heart wouldn’t stop racing. I cut across the field. Off in the distance, leaning against a sink station, was a student. Gray pants, white shirt, beige knit vest. Whether I squinted or stared wide-eyed—it was Seon-jae. Oh my god. “Seon-jae!” I sprinted toward him. My voice echoed across the field, and that familiar head turned in my direction. He looked back—and I saw it. That face. It was Seon-jae. High school Seon-jae, the one I’d only ever seen in pictures. I ran across the field and threw my arms around him. Was I always this fast? Well, in dreams, people can fly. I couldn’t slow down in time, and Seon-jae stumbled backward. With my face buried in his vest, I burst into tears. “Seon-jae, it’s really you. Uwaaah... It’s really you. You’re real!” “Wh-what the...?” I heard his startled voice—and then someone grabbed my shoulder and pulled me off. I turned, face drenched in tears, to see who it was. Baek In-hyeok. “Holy shit!” I was so startled, I slapped his hand away. Now Baek In-hyeok was showing up in my dream, too? “I’m the one who should be saying ‘holy shit,’” he muttered with a baffled look, exchanging glances with Seon-jae. Most of the Potato Battle, Potato War protesters were Baek In-hyeok stans. They claimed Seon-jae stole his spotlight and tied headbands on their foreheads, screaming against his addition. Even after the debut, they kept it up. As someone who loved Seon-jae, I resented those fans—and so naturally, I didn’t like Baek In-hyeok either. The two of them stared at me, sniffling and panting, with puzzled expressions. Then Seon-jae furrowed his brow. “...What the hell?” “Uh?” I wiped away the tears pooling on my chin and looked at him. His expression was sour and aimed directly at me. “Do I know you?” “Ah... I’m your fan. My username is ‘Run Away with Seon-jae on My Back.’ You wouldn’t know me. I only joined the café but never posted anything.” Sniffling, with teary lashes and red-rimmed eyes, I looked up. Seon-jae’s frown deepened. “...A fan?” “Whoa, wait—you’ve got a fan café now?” Baek In-hyeok nudged Seon-jae with his shoulder. I rolled my eyes toward him. “She’s definitely a fan. She’s getting all sappy just from one shoulder bump.” “Why the hell are you my fan?” Seon-jae snapped. “You’re... I mean... later, you... I mean, stuff happens. Anyway, I’m just really happy to see you, Seon-jae.” His expression was clearly annoyed, but I didn’t care. I was seeing Seon-jae up close, and that alone made me happy. I’d failed every fan sign drawing. Whenever I tried to attend music shows, I never got there early enough and always gave up. Concerts? Those were an entirely different beast. Even while grinning like an idiot, my eyes welled up again. I couldn’t see that face anymore—ever again. It felt like Seon-jae had come to visit me before heading off to heaven. As I pouted and sniffled, Baek In-hyeok covered his face like he was trying to suppress laughter. I wanted to glare at him—but I didn’t take my eyes off Seon-jae. In a dream like this, every second was precious. “Seon-jae, you’re the greatest singer to me. Your voice always gave me strength. Everyone really did love you. I just don’t want you to carry only the painful memories with you.” My nose twitched. My throat burned. My stomach was hot. Tears splashed down again. I cupped Seon-jae’s cheeks with both hands—slap—and pinched them. I tugged at his soft cheeks. His brows furrowed, and he stepped back to pull away. “This feels way too real. Uwaaaaah... I still can’t believe it. I want to crush those goddamned cold meds. Uwahhhh...” I tilted my head back, arms over my face. Tears rolled past my ears. I wailed loud enough to shake the school. Whatever. It’s a dream. So what if Seon-jae is here? In the real world, he’s not. “Seon-jae! Uwaaaahhh! Ryu Seon-jaeeee!! I f*cking love you soooo much!!” I screamed his name while crying—and suddenly, my mouth was clamped shut. I lowered my arm—and there was Seon-jae. His big hand was covering my mouth, muffling the noise. His brows twitched. In-hyeok was gone now, probably left while I was weeping with my head down. I could imagine one of them saying, Just ignore her, and walking away. But I guess I started shouting Seon-jae’s name again, echoing across the field—so he came back. “Say my name one more time.” I blinked. His hand against my jaw was warm. Should I sniff it? God, what kind of perv am I, even thinking that? I thought he’d follow that with “and I’ll kill you,” but he just shot me a sideways glance and turned around. As Seon-jae walked away, I blinked. Baek In-hyeok pointed at Seon-jae’s vest, now soaked in my tears, and laughed. Seon-jae grabbed In-hyeok’s vest and used it to wipe his own. “AHH, F*CK!” In-hyeok screamed. I looked up at the sound of whispering. A bunch of students were crowded at the classroom windows, watching. Of course, they were curious. Some girl in another school’s uniform crying her eyes out in the middle of the field? What do I do now? Just stand here forever? I’d said everything I wanted to say. Shouldn’t I be waking up by now? I looked up at the sky. The clouds were drifting slowly.