Chapter 1: The Time Has Come

The air smelled of instant ramen and damp old furniture, a scent so familiar it had practically become home itself. The heater buzzed faintly, valiantly battling against the creeping cold that always seemed to slip through the cracks of their worn-out apartment. A single flickering light bulb cast dim shadows over the mismatched furniture—secondhand pieces they'd salvaged over the years. It wasn’t much, but at least it was theirs. For now.

Jisoo tossed his work jacket onto the couch, the lingering scent of sweat and machine oil clinging to the fabric. Twelve hours of labor, and his body screamed in protest, the ache burrowing deep into his bones. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the rough callouses that had formed over years of relentless work. But when he stepped inside, he straightened, forcing a weary smile—Nari didn’t need to see just how much today had drained him.

“Jisoo! You look like a zombie.”

His sister, Nari, grinned at him from their tiny dining table, her black hair tied into a messy ponytail. The dim light above them cast a warm glow over her face, accentuating the slight bags under her eyes. Yet, even in their never-ending struggle, she still found reasons to smile.

He managed a chuckle, shaking his head. “You say that like it’s new.”

Nari slid a steaming cup of tea toward him. “Hard day?”

Jisoo accepted it, the warmth seeping into his palms. “Same as always.”

She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the table. “I visited Mom today.”

Jisoo stilled. His grip on the cup tightened as he slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. Their mother had been in a coma for very long. Occasionally, she would wake, but those moments were fleeting—so rare that they had stopped hoping.

“She woke up,” Nari whispered, eyes shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “Just for a little while.”

His breath caught. His grip tightened around the cup, knuckles whitening. His mother—awake? The words refused to settle in his mind, bouncing between disbelief and desperate hope. 'What… what did she say?' His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying the emotion he tried to suppress.

Nari’s lips pressed together, a small, wistful smile appearing. “Not much. She was weak… but she asked about you.”

A lump formed in his throat. It shouldn’t have affected him this much. He had long since buried the hope of hearing his mother’s voice again. But knowing that she had woken—even for just a brief moment—sent a crack through the walls he had built around himself.

“I’ll go see her tomorrow,” he murmured, but even as the words left his lips, a flicker of guilt crept in. How many times had he told himself the same thing? That there’d always be another visit, another chance? But life had a way of taking those chances away. His fingers curled tighter around the cup. Tomorrow. He had to see her tomorrow.

Before Nari could respond, his phone vibrated against the table. The familiar number on the screen made his stomach twist.

“Who is it?” Nari frowned.

Jisoo let the phone ring out, hoping to ignore it. His stomach lurched. His fingers tightened around the device. A breath. Then, forcing a smile, he reached out and ruffled Nari’s hair. “No one important.”

But it was. The loan sharks were calling.

He let the call ring out, pretending it didn’t exist, but the screen lit up again almost immediately. A message followed.

"Ignoring us now? If you don’t come to us, we’ll come to you. And your sister."

Jisoo’s hand clenched around the phone. His body stiffened, and in that brief hesitation, Nari caught his change in expression.

“Jisoo…” Her voice softened, a hint of worry seeping in. “Is it them?”

He swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Nari grabbed his wrist before he could stand. “Don’t go.”

He met her eyes, the unspoken fear between them thick in the air. He gently pried her fingers away and stood. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

She knew what was going to happen. And so did he.

Jisoo arrived at the meeting spot, an alley bathed in dim orange light from a flickering streetlamp. The scent of cigarettes, rotting trash, and cheap beer lingered in the air. The shadows between the buildings stretched unnaturally long, swallowing everything that strayed too close.

A chill crawled up his spine.

Then, a sharp impact.

A sudden fist rammed into his ribs, forcing all the air from his lungs. A second blow—sharp and ruthless—followed immediately, sending a violent tremor through his body. He staggered, coughing, his breath reduced to painful wheezes. His vision blurred, but he clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t fall. Not yet. “Still standing? That’s a surprise,” a voice sneered.

Another blow struck his face. The world spun as he crumpled against the damp concrete, his cheek pressing against the cold, rough pavement. He tasted copper on his tongue.

A foot pressed against his shoulder, pinning him down. The loan shark sub-leader, a man with a scar running down his cheek, crouched beside him, his lips curling into a mockery of a smile.

“You know how this goes, Jisoo.” His tone was almost friendly. “Your old man left you a nice little parting gift. That debt isn’t going anywhere. And you’ve been a bit slow with your payments, so the boss is getting worried that you might not pay everything in time.”

Jisoo clenched his jaw, biting back the words bubbling at his lips. He had learned long ago that talking back only made it worse.

Scarface sighed dramatically. “You should be grateful we’re patient. Pay up, or next time, I’ll break something that won’t heal.”

The pressure on his shoulder lifted, and for a moment, he thought it was over.

Then, a boot slammed into his ribs.

A sickening crack echoed in the alley as white-hot pain flared through his side. Jisoo gasped, his vision dimming. Another kick followed. Then another.

He coughed violently—blood splattered onto the pavement, dark against the flickering streetlight’s glow.

His vision blurred, his breath shallow. A dull ringing filled his ears. Why? Why did it have to be like this?

Jisoo had nothing left. No strength, no future. Just pain, regret, and an endless cycle of suffering.

Footsteps faded into the night. The alley was silent again.

Then, a voice echoed in his mind.

[The time has come. Do you wish to use your unique ability?]

Jisoo’s breath hitched. His body trembled, though whether from the pain or something else, he wasn’t sure.

A system message?

[Do you seek a second chance upon this ruthless world?]

A second chance?

For years, he had been considered useless. Unlike everyone else, his unique ability had never activated. In a world where, after The Awakening, every person was granted a unique ability—some for cooking, some for battle, some for building—Jisoo was the exception. He had a skill, but no information on how to use it. He spent years trying, day and night, testing every possibility, yet no matter what he did, he found nothing. Eventually, after years of failure, he gave up.

Yet, now…

A glowing blue window hovered in front of him. There was no mistaking it. This was real.

Jisoo’s hands trembled as he read the text again.

[Use Skill: Chrono Requiem]

His vision swam, his body barely responding. The taste of blood thickened in his mouth. Memories flashed before his eyes—his father’s abandonment, his mother’s fragile existence, Nari’s unwavering belief in him.

Was this it?

Was this really his only way out?

He barely understood what was happening. But he knew one thing.

His fingers hovered over the glowing text. Could this be real? Or was this just a dying man’s hallucination? His body screamed in agony, his ribs aching with every shallow breath. If he pressed it and nothing happened, he would just wake up tomorrow—powerless, broken, and trapped in the same cycle. But if it was real…

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm. A second chance. A way out.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

He exhaled sharply, then pressed [YES].

The system’s response was immediate.

[Regression confirmed. Timeline reset in 48 hours. Use this time wisely.]

The glowing window flickered, then disappeared. His heart pounded against his bruised ribs, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.

Forty-eight hours.

That was all the time he had.

A gust of wind swept through the alley, chilling him to the bone. His vision blurred, the world around him darkening. His body felt heavier, weaker.

As the last remnants of consciousness slipped away, he heard something.

A whisper.

A voice—distorted, unfamiliar—murmuring just beyond his understanding.

Then, silence.

Jisoo's eyelids fluttered open, his face pressed against the cold, damp pavement of the alleyway. The air was thick with the stench of stale beer and rotting garbage. His body ached, every breath sending sharp pain lancing through his ribs. He groaned, shifting slightly, only to wince as a fresh wave of agony surged through him.

For a moment, he wondered if it had all been a nightmare—the alley, the beating, the system message.

Then, his gaze landed on the glowing blue window hovering just above his head.

[Regression Confirmed. Timeline Reset in 46 Hours. Use this time wisely.]

His breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

Jisoo woke with a choked gasp, cold searing through his bones. His body should’ve hurt, but for one terrifying moment, he felt nothing. Just a deafening silence. His fingers twitched against damp pavement. The world around him felt… off. Colors were slightly desaturated, like an old photograph. The distant honking of a car sounded delayed, as if the world itself lagged a second behind. Then, suddenly, sensation slammed back into him—a sharp throb in his ribs, the metallic tang of blood still fresh on his tongue. He looked up, and there it was. The glowing text.

46 hours, 13 minutes remaining.

His heart pounded. The countdown was moving. It’s real. I’m really going back.

A surge of emotions crashed into him all at once—relief, fear, anger. His hands trembled as he reached toward the glowing interface, hesitant yet unable to resist the pull of something so impossible.

“System…” he murmured, testing the words as if speaking them aloud would solidify its existence. “What… what does this mean?”

The window flickered, and a new message appeared.

[You have activated your unique ability: Chrono Requiem. Regression to the past will occur in 46 hours, 12 minutes, and 47 seconds.]

He inhaled sharply. The name of my ability… Chrono Requiem?

He had always known he had a system, but unlike everyone else, it never worked. Why now? Why after all this time?

His mind spun with the weight of the revelation. The implications were staggering. He had always been a failure in this world—a man without power in a society that revolved around it. But now? Now he had something no one else did.

A second chance.

Jisoo’s jaw clenched. No more running. No more suffering. This time, I’ll change everything.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. I need to think. I have 46 hours. What can I do in that time?

His mind raced through possibilities. He had no strength, no money, no power. But he had knowledge. And knowledge was priceless.

His eyes flicked back to the system screen. “Why can you talk? I’ve never heard of a system that talks before.”

A brief pause, then the system responded.

[This system is uniquely attuned to its user. Chrono Requiem operates differently from standard awakenings.]

Jisoo frowned. “Differently how?”

[Information restricted.]

He sighed. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. “Fine… Then tell me—exactly when and where am I regressing to?”

[You will return to six months before The Awakening, at the precise moment it was meant to trigger in the original timeline. Location: Seoul, South Korea.]

Jisoo’s breath hitched. Six months… That means I’ll be powerless again.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Even with all the knowledge in the world, he wouldn’t be able to wield any real strength until The Awakening happened. That means I have to prepare before it comes.

He clenched his fists. “Can I take something with me when I regress?”

The system paused for a brief moment before displaying a response.

[One personal belonging may be carried over, provided it existed in the chosen past timeline.]

Jisoo’s heart pounded. He sat there, his mind spinning with the sheer possibilities of what this truly meant. He had spent years in despair, years trapped in a life where he had no control, no power to change anything. But now—now he had a chance to rewrite everything.

His thoughts raced. He could try to hoard money, gather weapons, find a way to gain an advantage in combat before The Awakening. But even if he brought back money, would it truly make a difference before the world changed? No, he needed something more valuable. Something irreplaceable.

Then, it hit him.

What if he brought a record of everything he knew?

A notebook filled with crucial details—the right investments, hidden opportunities, dangerous figures to avoid, powerful awakeners before they rose to fame, dungeon patterns, tower secrets, everything.

The thought sent a spark of excitement through him. This is it. This is how I can be prepared.

A sense of pride settled in his chest. Unlike raw strength or power, knowledge was something no one could take away from him. With the right information, he wouldn’t just survive—he would thrive.

“System, I want to bring my notebook.”

[Acknowledged. The selected item will be available upon regression.]

[Interesting. It seems you’ve come up with quite the strategic approach. I look forward to seeing how you use it.]

[Reminder: You have limited time before regression. Begin preparations accordingly.]

Jisoo took a deep breath. Right. I can’t waste time.

The pain in his ribs still burned, but he shoved it aside. He forced himself to his feet, leaning against the damp alley wall for support. The city’s faint hum filled the air—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of drunken laughter from the streets beyond. He had no time to dwell on his injuries. He had a plan to execute.

Jisoo trudged back home, every muscle in his body aching from the relentless beating. His hoodie was stained, his lip split, and his ribs throbbed with each breath. He had taken worse before, but this time… this time it didn’t matter. He had something greater now—hope.

The apartment was dark when he entered, the only source of light coming from the dim glow of the kitchen. As soon as he stepped inside, Nari bolted up from the couch, eyes wide with worry.

"Jisoo! Where the hell have you been?" Her voice was hushed but filled with fear. "You look awful—what happened?"

He forced a tired smile, waving off her concern. "Just ran into some trouble. It’s nothing I can’t handle."

Nari didn’t look convinced. She stepped closer, inspecting the bruises forming along his cheekbone, her fingers trembling slightly. "You were with them again, weren’t you? Iron Hand—"

"It’s fine, Nari," he said firmly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I promise you, everything’s going to be fine."

She shook her head, biting her lip. "How can you say that? Every time they call, you come back like this. How much more can you take?"

Jisoo looked into her worried eyes, a deep determination settling into his chest. This would be the last time she had to see him like this. The last time he’d let this happen.

"Trust me," he whispered. "I found a way to fix everything."

Nari frowned, sensing the strange certainty in his words. "Jisoo… what are you talking about?"

He exhaled, pulling back. "You’ll see soon enough. Just hold on a little longer."

Nari wanted to press further, but the exhaustion in his voice told her she wouldn’t get an answer tonight. After a long silence, she sighed, stepping away. "Just… please don’t do anything reckless."

Jisoo forced a smirk. "Me? Reckless? Never."

Nari scoffed but managed a small smile. "Liar."

As she finally retreated to her room, Jisoo let out a long breath, his smile fading. He turned toward his own small space, shut the door behind him, and pressed his back against it. The pain in his body felt distant now—his mind was far too consumed with what lay ahead.

First step: gather information.

He pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved a fresh notebook, flipping it open to the first page. If his past notebook was going to merge with the system, he needed to fill it with everything he could while he still had time.

Jisoo grabbed a pen and started writing.

* Lottery numbers – Every jackpot win number over the past eight years.

* Stock market trends – Key investments that would skyrocket post-Awakening.

* Fracture locations – Hidden dungeon sites and their known clear conditions.

* Tower strategies – Floor layouts, bosses, and exploit strategies.

* Notable awakeners – Future powerhouses and how they rose to prominence.

* Key political shifts – Governmental changes following The Awakening.

His hands moved fast, his mind working at full capacity. Every detail matters.

As he scribbled furiously, his breath came in sharp bursts. His hands cramped, his back ached from leaning over the desk, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

Every moment wasted was a moment closer to regression. He needed to memorize key events, map out interactions with critical people, and anticipate where opportunities would arise. Where could he position himself best when The Awakening happened?

Jisoo leaned back, rubbing his temples. His thoughts were racing faster than his body could keep up. Forty-four hours. That’s all I have.

A new thought struck him.

If he was going back… then what about the people who had hurt him in this life?

The loan sharks. The people who had trampled on his family. The ones who took everything from him.

His grip tightened around the pen, his knuckles turning white.

This time, I won’t be their victim.

For the next several hours, Jisoo worked tirelessly. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford. He sat hunched over his desk, his phone and computer screens illuminating his exhausted face as he scoured the internet, news archives, and financial records.

He wrote down patterns, marked crucial dates, and refined his strategy. Every decision had to count.

But he wasn’t just researching—he was taking risks.

Under fake names, he entered restricted online forums where awakened hunters traded insider knowledge. He pretended to be an informant for the Blood Oath guild, feeding them half-truths to extract classified dungeon and Tower clearance reports. He reached out to minor criminal syndicates, posing as a desperate man looking for a way into the underground networks of item smuggling and Awakening enhancement drugs.

He wanted to see how people reacted, to test his ability to manipulate, to gather intel that no ordinary citizen should have.

At one point, he even walked straight into a Black Market information hub, sitting in on a transaction as if he belonged there. His heart pounded the entire time, knowing that if he were caught, he’d be dead before sunrise.

But none of it mattered.

Because in less than two days, none of it would have consequences.

Twenty-five hours left.

Jisoo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He had gathered everything he could, yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Did I miss anything? Is there something I should be doing differently?

But there was no time for hesitation.

He turned the page in his notebook and kept writing.

He would be prepared for the new world that awaited him. This time, things would be different