Chapitre 3: Return from the future
Ryu Jiho awoke with a start, gasping for breath. His heart pounded as he took in his surroundings—a room that was oddly familiar yet unsettlingly strange. It was a place he felt he should know, but it seemed altered, like a memory twisted by time.
"What's happening? I thought I died... from the cold," he whispered to himself, bewildered.
He searched his mind, trying to recall something—anything—that might explain this situation. But no memories of a large room or a theater surfaced.
"Where am I?" he muttered.
The room was small and tidy, a stark contrast to the filthy, almost dungeon-like basement he had grown accustomed to. This was a simple room in a house that seemed straight out of the 1980s. The air was warm, the kind of warmth that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. Not a speck of dust was visible, and there was a sense of order here, a care that had been long absent from his life. An old, familiar wardrobe stood against one wall, and a metal desk occupied the corner. On its surface, neatly stacked, were high school reference books, and on the wallpapered wall, a calendar from 1987 hung—a gift, perhaps, from a local agricultural cooperative.
This room... it was almost identical to his bedroom when he was a first-year high school student. Jiho took a deep breath, trying to calm the tremor of unease that still gripped him. He rubbed his face with both hands, as if trying to wash away the disorientation without water. His skin felt smooth, not a hint of the stubble he was used to. He pinched his cheek, hoping to wake from what he believed must be a dream. But the sharp pain that shot through him confirmed that this was no dream.
"This... this doesn't make any sense..." he murmured, just as a sudden, intense headache struck, forcing him to wince in pain.
"Ah!" He groaned, clutching his head as the sharp, stabbing pain collided with a wave of exhaustion that drained what little strength he had left.
'I mustn't fall asleep,' he thought desperately. He was terrified that if he closed his eyes again, he would be dragged back into the nightmare of his fifty years of misery. But the pull of sleep was too strong, and he couldn't resist.
"....."
Ryu Jiho drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind battered by the agony in his head. When he was awake, he endured the relentless pounding in his skull; when he slept, he was haunted by dreams—some vivid, others blurry, most of them painful. The dreams were a relentless parade of his life's failures, his suffering, and ultimately, his tragic death.
'Could this be... time travel?' he wondered.
Somehow, he had returned to his past. Before his death, he had started writing a screenplay, one filled with hopelessness and despair, revolving around a supernatural phenomenon—time travel. He had hoped it would be his last legacy, but as death approached, the futility of it all had overwhelmed him. In despair, he had decided to abandon his dream, erasing the script he had worked so hard on.
'What a fool I was. How utterly foolish,'
Jiho thought, chastising his former self as though he were observing a stranger.
His life had been wasted, each day a failure, each year a deeper descent into despair. Even in his final moments, his life had remained pitiful and wretched. Whether in the past, the future, or even through reincarnation, his fifty years had been nothing but tragedy.
'A failed life. Don't disregard everything,' he whispered to himself.
To move forward, one must first be honest with oneself. After that, the purpose of life must be clearly defined. As Jiho began to reassess his life, the fog of his mind began to lift, revealing a clearer view of his path. The failures of his past were not meaningless. The fire within him, once extinguished, now reignited, burning brighter with a new purpose. And finally, Ryu Jiho truly awakened from his sleep.
"Ah~" he sighed softly.
The ceiling, covered in aged wallpaper, came into sharp focus. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, his vision clear and sharp. Though his body still ached as if recovering from illness, his mind felt refreshed.
"Creak~" The sound of a wooden door echoed softly as Jiho opened it, stepping out of his room and into the living area. From the direction of the kitchen, his mother, Shim Young-sook, who was rinsing rice, looked up at the sound of his footsteps.
"....."
Throughout her life, the mother had always sacrificed for her children, who, unfortunately, often failed to show gratitude. Now, the image of her as an elderly woman, frail and stricken by a stroke, slowly faded from his mind, replaced by the memory of his mother in her forties, looking stronger and more vibrant.
Ryu Jiho, who had long suppressed his emotions, suddenly felt a surge of overwhelming feelings. His tears flowed uncontrollably, spilling down his cheeks in torrents.
"Mother!" he cried out, his voice laden with anguish.
Ryu Jiho rushed towards Sim Yeongsuk, who looked exhausted, and wrapped his arms around her tightly, as if terrified of losing her all over again.
"Mother, forgive me. I've been so wrong. Please, forgive me!" he pleaded, his voice breaking into sobs that were bitter and raw.
"What's wrong, my dear?" Sim Yeongsuk asked, her face suddenly clouded with concern. Her usually calm eldest son was now sobbing uncontrollably, making her worry.
"I had a dream, Mother. In that dream, I abandoned our family, lived alone, and became a pitiful vagrant," Ryu Jiho explained between his tears.
Sim Yeongsuk tried to remain calm, though deep down she understood that the dream must have been terrifying to make her son act this way.
"Calm down, Jiho. It was just a bad dream. Everything will be fine, I am here," she whispered soothingly, gently stroking her son's back.
The tender touch and soft voice of his mother touched Ryu Jiho even more deeply, as if her love was flooding his entire being. His tears flowed even more freely.
"Waaah… Mother!" he wailed, releasing all the burdens he had kept bottled up inside.
Ryu Jiho's crying continued for a long while. Now, he felt exhausted, with only small sobs punctuating his heavy breathing, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go of his embrace.
"Come on now, Jiho. I'm tired, let go of your hug. Be a good boy," said Sim Yeongsuk, patting his back gently.
Reluctantly, Ryu Jiho loosened his grip. Sim Yeongsuk wiped the tears from her son's face with her soft hands.
"You're so grown up now, already in high school, but still crying like a baby…" she remarked with a small smile, though she felt warmth spreading through her heart.
Ryu Jiho felt embarrassed and tried to change the topic. "Where are my younger siblings?"
"It's late, they've gone to bed," Sim Yeongsuk replied.
"And what about Father?"
"Your father said he'd be working late, so he might come home a bit later."
"Oh, I see," Ryu Jiho nodded.
"Jiho, just now you called me 'eomeoni'?" Sim Yeongsuk asked, a bit surprised.
"Yes, Mother."
"Why the sudden change? You usually call me 'eomma'. Why so formal now?" she asked with curiosity.
"Maybe… maybe I'm starting to grow up," Ryu Jiho answered, trying to sound calm, though uncertainty still lingered in his heart.
Sim Yeongsuk chuckled softly at the formal tone her son was using, feeling something odd yet also a sense of pride as she saw her son maturing.
The night grew deeper. Silence enveloped the house.
"Waaaah~"
Ryu Jiho began sobbing again as he hugged his father, Ryu Minsang, who had just come home from work. The tears he thought had dried up suddenly flowed freely once more.
Ryu Minsang looked at his wife, bewildered. Sim Yeongsuk merely shook her head slightly, indicating that she, too, had no idea what was happening. His father awkwardly patted Jiho's back, trying to comfort him.
"Ah, really…" Ryu Minsang sighed, feeling helpless.
Ryu Minsang was an orphan. In his youth, he traveled across the country, taking any job he could find until he finally settled in Incheon, where he met Sim Yeongsuk, who later became his wife. Now, he worked for a steel company.
In his time, the starting salary for a university graduate at a big company was around 350,000 won, while the initial pay for a teacher was about 300,000 won. On the other hand, Ryu Minsang's salary as a foreman in the steel factory was slightly over 300,000 won. Only through relentless overtime could he manage to earn up to 400,000 won a month.
To raise his three children, Ryu Minsang was willing to work even harder, enduring long days as if they were just part of his routine. In the past, young Ryu Jiho, who didn't understand, considered his parents' sacrifices as something ordinary.
'I have to treat them well. Make them happy, happier than any other parents in this world!'
In his heart, Ryu Jiho made a promise to himself, repeating it over and over.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone