chapter-1

Ara, want some coffee?" Joonwoo's voice broke my thoughts, like a sudden break in the quiet night. I looked up from my desk and saw his smile, his hand holding a coffee cup.

I smiled back, grateful for the offer. "Sure, Joonwoo. Thanks."

We went to the break room with our cups, the hot coffee providing warmth against the chilly night air coming in through the windows. Sitting at a small table, Joonwoo took a sip and let out a satisfied sigh, his breath visible in the coolness.

"You know, Ara, we're getting older," he said with a chuckle. But his eyes had a touch of longing that the dim light couldn't hide.

Stirring cream into my coffee, the mix of colors was highlighted by the soft light in the room. "Speak for yourself. Twenty-seven isn't old, my friend."

Joonwoo's laughter was comforting, mingling with the hum of vending machines. "Well, we're not fresh out of college anymore. Speaking of age, my parents keep hinting about me getting married."

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Already? You're still young, Joonwoo."

He grinned, mischief in his eyes, a puff of breath visible in the cold air. "It's a parent thing, I guess. But hey, how's work treating you? Being an assistant manager sounds tough."

Leaning back, I blew on my coffee to cool it down, steam mingling with the night air. "It has its tough moments. Managing projects, deadlines, and all the game development stuff can be a handful."

Joonwoo nodded understandingly, holding his coffee close for warmth. "I can imagine. You know, sometimes I wish I could just teleport out of the office when things get crazy."

A laugh escaped me, blending with the distant sounds of office machines and faint sirens outside. "Wouldn't that be something? But until we can hack reality, coffee will have to do."

Our laughter hung in the air, a break from the night's seriousness. The warmth of the coffee soaked into our hands, connecting us in that moment.

Beyond the office window, the world glowed after the earlier rain. Leaves glistened with raindrops, and the smell of damp earth drifted on a gentle breeze. The blending of seasons was a quiet beauty, a brief escape from life's regular patterns.

Joonwoo's eyes sparkled mischievously. "So, Ara, any secret plans? Maybe a surprise wedding announcement?"

I chuckled and shook my head. "No such plans. For now, I'm just focused on work."

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His grin grew, illuminated by the soft light. "Well, if you ever need an escape plan, you know I'm here."

"I won't forget that," I replied, raising my coffee cup in a mock toast to his offer.

Friendship embraced us as we enjoyed the simple joy of a coffee break, a break from the night's challenges. Rain had stopped, leaving a quiet calm, sometimes broken by the sound of a distant car.

Leaving the office, I craved the comfort of home and maybe some instant ramen from the corner store. City lights guided my way through the dark. My phone buzzed as I entered the convenience store, its bright lights contrasting with the night outside. "Hi, Mom."

"Hey, Ara! How's your night?"

Basket in hand, I headed to the ramen aisle, the fluorescent lights casting moving shadows. "Good, just work stuff. How about you?"

"Just usual chores. Your dad and I were talking about your visit."

A chuckle as I grabbed ramen packets, their colors popping in the bright aisle. "I'll come soon, maybe this weekend?"

"That's great. How's your friend? Still in touch?"

Mom's tone was playful, even in her voice. I rolled my eyes. "Mom, we're friends and co-workers. Nothing more."

She laughed. "Okay, dear. Just remember, your old mom wants you to be happy."

"Thanks, Mom. You're the best."

We talked, feeling close despite the distance. Dad joined in, and then my sister, excited about a school quiz. Love and warmth spread through the call, my heart full as I said goodbye.

Walking out, the night embraced me again. With ramen in hand, I headed home, but then came a blinding light—destiny's collision. Pain surged, thoughts scattered.

Pain, intense and blinding, clouded my mind. Each breath was a battle against the torment. Sirens blended with the night's sounds.

Then the pain changed. Numbness spread like a cold blanket, detachment replacing suffering. I felt adrift, a conscious island in a sea of indifference.

Amidst the numbness, memories flooded—scenes etched in detail by the play of light and shadow. I yearned to see them, hold them. Family, dreams, regrets—bound by a heartbeat that fought to endure.

The world blurred, the night's curtain hiding edges. Numbness enveloped, erasing sensation. Was it a truck that hit me? Metal, impact—fragments in a fog.

Unspoken words, unfulfilled desires—burdens on the heart. The universe paused, life's edge and the abyss veiled by the night's secrets. Then, silence. Absolute and profound. It wrapped around me like a velvet shroud, dulling all sound until there was nothing but stillness. And within that quietude, I felt an overwhelming exhaustion, as though I had journeyed an eternity.

Consciousness ebbed and flowed, and my head throbbed persistently. My vision remained blurred, a mosaic of indistinct shapes and colors. With every effort, I tried to rise, but my body betrayed me. My limbs were weak, like strands of thread barely holding together.

As if trapped in a dream, I pushed against the shabby bed beneath me, its creaking protest echoing in the silence. My attempts to stand were feeble, the world swaying around me. Each attempt felt like an uphill struggle, a battle against both my aching body and the forces of the unfamiliar reality that had enveloped me.

I squinted through blurry eyes, expecting to see the sterile walls of a hospital room. Yet, as my vision gradually cleared, I was met with the sight of an old, weathered house. It stood as a sentinel against time, marked by years of existence and stories untold.

Confusion mingled with my exhaustion, and I couldn't shake off the sensation of being adrift in an unknown place, both physically and mentally. Was this a hospital in disrepair? The edges of my mind were hazy, unable to piece together the fragments of my experience.

With a final, desperate effort, I managed to sit up, my body protesting at every movement. Despite the pain and the disorientation, a thought tugged at the recesses of my consciousness—a thought that whispered that this wasn't a hospital room, nor was it the world I once knew.

This was just the beginning of the protagonist's journey in this new world,