Gulp. Gulp.
Gulp. Gulp.
The underwater world was so quiet and peaceful. All the noise and chaos faded away, leaving only the soft gurgling of water in his ears. The jumble of restless thoughts gradually settled, and for a brief moment, Ronan slipped back into that state of lost hearing. Oddly enough, it helped him regain his balance. The scattered ideas drifting through the cosmos of his mind slowly came back down to earth, and even his heartbeat eased into a gentler rhythm.
Thump. Thump!
His heart thudded against his chest, steady and clear, reminding Ronan he was still alive. It wasn't until the oxygen in his lungs was nearly gone that he jerked his head up, pulling it out of the bathroom sink.
Splash.
Icy water dripped down his cheeks, cold and clingy. He rubbed his face hard with both hands, as if flexing every muscle in his body, shaking his brain awake. Then, with a long exhale, he let out all the stale air in his chest. His foggy mind finally cleared.
Lifting his head, he wiped the water droplets off the mirror, though years of stubborn, mottled stains still clouded it, making everything hazy. Reflected back was a young, unfamiliar face—sharp yet gentle.
Beneath relaxed brows sat a pair of clear, expressive eyes, their deep, bright depths shimmering with faint, colorful glints. His naturally calm mouth didn't carry much emotion, while his tall, straight nose cast a soft shadow that added a touch of warmth to his lips.
A tug, a pull.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly into a small arc, tinged with a hint of helplessness. That little smile caught Ronan off guard, and it took him a second to realize this stranger's face was his own—his current shell. His brain was sending signals of resistance from deep within:
He still wasn't used to it.
So, Ronan raised his hands, hooked his index fingers around the corners of his mouth like a clown, and forced an exaggerated grin, fully embodying the essence of "smiling on the outside, dead on the inside." The amusement in his eyes bubbled up, and he couldn't hold it in—he burst out laughing with a little snort.
Pat. Pat.
He lightly slapped his cheeks twice, the sound extra crisp thanks to the water. The laughter in his eyes surged even more, washing away some of the panic, gloom, confusion, and bitterness. Gravity pulled at his body, grounding him with a solid, real feeling. His mind was finally awake.
So, he should feel lucky, right?
Not because he'd gone from 2020 back to 2012, but because… he could hear again. The world was so vivid. He could see again, too—the veil that once clouded his vision was gone.
For real, he could feel the world again.
The dark green tiled floor was covered in grimy moss and dirt. Mold crept up the yellowish walls, blooming wildly in every corner, even spreading to the deep brown wooden window frame. It didn't leave much room for the industrious spiders spinning their webs.
The thin bathroom door couldn't block out the rowdy clamor from the bar outside. Engine roars from the parking lot out back mixed with the smell of gasoline seeping in. Faint red taillights flickered, signaling the night was winding down as people started trickling out.
Ronan soaked it all in, almost greedily scanning every inch of his surroundings—even the filthy corners. The colors were so bold, so rich; the sounds so sharp, so clear. Just standing there, he could map out the world's edges without needing to touch anything to figure it out.
Finally, his gaze settled back on the grimy mirror, studying that face again.
And then… he started making goofy faces!
The uglier, the better. The harder, the better. He threw everything into it, working every facial muscle—tongue and nose included.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the grand finals of the 2012 World Goofy Face Championship! We're now in the final moments of the battle for the crown."
"Performing a five-star difficulty routine right now is our contestant from China, Ronan! He just nailed a tricky 'Wilted Chrysanthemum' paired with 'Eyebrow Brawl,' earning him the night's highest score of 4.82. Now, he's pushing his limits, going for a super-six-star 'Twisted Face' masterpiece!"
"Whoa!"
"He did it! He actually did it! The judges are on their feet, clapping—all giving him a perfect five out of five! The champion! Ronan's won the Goofy Face Championship and officially claimed the title of World's Ugliest Face!"
Ronan threw his hands up high, flashing a dazzling grin at the mirror, as if he could hear the crowd's roaring cheers in his ears.
Haha.
He couldn't help but let out a light laugh. Looking at the face in the mirror again, he was starting to get used to it. Studying it closely, he felt a faint flicker of familiarity—like he could see traces of himself in those bright eyes. Truth was, he didn't even know what he looked like grown up, just clinging to vague childhood memories.
"Maybe this is what my eyes look like as an adult."
Maybe… this was his chance to rewrite his life.
He could hear again. He could see again. Illness was no longer a chain holding him back, and darkness wasn't an excuse for his dreams to stall. He wanted to explore the world with his feet, carve out a life with his hands, dive into adventures with his whole being, and chase his dreams with courage and conviction. What would life look like then?
And more than that—he wanted to use music to build bridges and break down walls. In a cold, disconnected modern world, he wanted people to feel each other's emotions again, to carve out a small corner in their hearts and rediscover their softness, their warmth, and a little bit of happiness.
Ronan didn't know what glitch in God's roulette wheel had landed him this second chance, but he was determined to seize it. He'd chase his dreams—not just to achieve them, but to make the journey itself extraordinary.
He wanted to bloom like a summer flower, dazzling and vibrant, even if it faded fast. At least he'd have shone brilliantly once. Life only comes around once—if he missed out on too much because of fear, hesitation, or compromise, what was the point of stumbling through it half-awake?
"One Day King."
Ronan murmured the band's name under his breath, the corners of his mouth curving up slowly. He wanted to be a king, even if just for a day.
With that thought, he looked at the face in the mirror again. The determination and confidence in his eyes glowed, while the panic, unease, nervousness, and fear quietly settled and faded. Even his cluttered mind calmed down. Then… he made another goofy face at the mirror, twisting his mouth and eyes like a hanged ghost, light laughter bubbling up in his chest.
He turned and pushed open the bathroom door, but it was heavier than expected. As soon as he got it ajar, it swung wide, and a figure stumbled toward him.
Ronan jumped back just in time, dodging as Ollie lunged forward and faceplanted spectacularly, sprawling across the floor in a messy heap.
(End of Chapter)