Arin blinked, and the world around him felt soft and bright, like sunlight streaming through a morning window. But this wasn't sunlight—this was something else. Warm, welcoming, and… familiar. He felt a small body in his arms, and then he realized something that made his chest tighten.
He was a baby.
No, not just a baby—he was one year old. He looked around with wide eyes at the room, small and cozy, filled with simple furniture and a faint smell of home-cooked meals. And then his gaze fell upon two figures, slightly blurred at first, but gradually becoming clearer.
His mother and father.
Arin felt a strange rush of emotion. They looked just like he remembered from his childhood memories, but there was something different now. He could see them clearly, as if he were standing outside of time, observing them with the wisdom he had gained from his future life.
His mother had gentle eyes, the kind that carried worry and love all at once. Her hands were busy, washing clothes, preparing a small meal. Her movements were careful but tired. Arin's heart ached when he noticed the lines on her face, the way her shoulders drooped slightly. Life had not been easy for her.
His father, on the other hand, had a big smile. Always smiling. Even as he scrubbed the floor or fixed something broken in the tiny apartment, his grin never faded. He looked at Arin's mother with warmth, and then at the little boy in his arms, and even though their lives were hard, he tried to make it seem light and easy. Arin knew—because now he could see it—that they had very little money. Bills piled up, work was hard, and yet, somehow, his father managed to fulfill every small wish Arin made, from a new toy to a favorite snack.
Arin's chest tightened further. In his previous life, he had been blind to it. He had complained about small inconveniences, ignored their struggles, and often acted selfishly. And now, seeing it all from this unique perspective, he felt sorry. He had been ungrateful. He had failed to notice how much his parents had done for him, how much they had sacrificed.
Tears welled up in his eyes, though his small body couldn't express them. He wanted to cry, wanted to shout, wanted to run into their arms, but he couldn't—he was just observing. Just… remembering.
Still, seeing them, even like this, made him happy. There was love in their lives, even when life itself was harsh. His father's big smile, the patient care in his mother's eyes, and the little things they did to keep the home warm and safe—he realized that happiness wasn't always about money or recognition. It was about presence, effort, and love.
Arin's little heart swelled with a determination he had never felt before.
"I… I'll make you happy this time," he whispered softly to himself, his baby lips moving though no sound came out. "I'll make you proud. I won't waste my life again."
He watched his father pick him up and cradle him gently, singing a small, cheerful song. Even now, despite being tired from work, despite the bills and the struggles, his father's smile never faded. And his mother, kneeling beside them, placed a soft hand on his tiny head, humming along. The warmth in that moment wrapped around Arin like a blanket, safe and comforting.
For the first time in a long time, Arin felt peace. Not the peace that came from achieving something in the future or gaining recognition—but the peace of simply being with family. Seeing them, knowing their struggles, and realizing that he could be the one to make it better filled him with a strange new energy.
"I promise… I'll work hard," he thought, feeling that small, firm resolve in his chest. "I'll make this life different. I'll make sure you never have to worry so much. I'll make you proud, Mom. I'll make you proud, Dad."
Even as a tiny child, he could sense the path ahead, even if he didn't know all the steps yet. The Restart System had given him a chance, but now, seeing the people who had given him everything they could, he understood why he wanted this life to succeed. It wasn't just for him—it was for them.
Arin closed his small eyes for a moment, imagining the future. A future where his parents could smile without worry, a future where their sacrifices were rewarded, a future where their son—ordinary once, struggling once—had finally grown into someone they could be proud of.
When he opened them again, he felt lighter, happier. He was still a baby, still small and fragile, but inside, a fire had been lit. A fire to grow, to improve, and to live a life that would honor those who had given him everything.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Arin smiled—not because life was easy, but because he had hope. And hope, he realized, was the first step to changing everything.