When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling.
Cracked paint. A faint water stain near the corner. A ceiling fan that wasn't spinning.
This wasn't my room.
Before I could even sit up, memories flooded into my mind not violently, not painfully, but smoothly, like recalling something I had forgotten rather than something new being forced into me.
Names. Faces. Feelings.
So now…
I was Kuroda Ren.
I slowly pushed myself up from the bed, my breathing heavy despite the small movement. The room was small and cramped, barely enough space for two beds pushed against opposite walls. A narrow desk. A cheap wardrobe. Nothing extra.
I caught my reflection in the darkened screen of a phone lying beside the bed.
Round face. Puffy cheeks. Dark circles under tired eyes.
This body was… unhealthy.
In my past life, I had also been called Ren but unlike this Ren, who at least had a roof over his head and food on the table, my old life had been far worse.
I grew up with my "father," if he could even be called that.
A drunk. A man who staggered home smelling of alcohol and regret, who made sure I didn't starve, but little else. School was a mess. Home was worse. Each fed into the other until it felt like my life was just an endless loop until I escaped.
Once I was gone, I worked whatever jobs I could until I eventually entered the entertainment industry.
It wasn't glamorous.
I wasn't famous.
But I was finally free.
Music, stage work and behind-the-scenes jobs - I took anything that kept me moving forward.
Then one day, an old man stopped me after work.
He asked me a strange question.
"Do you like your life?"
Normally, I would've ignored him. Told him to mind his own business.
But that day, for some reason, I answered honestly.
"No."
The old man snapped his fingers.
And suddenly, I saw it.
A boat accident. News reports. A single casualty.
My father.
The shock hit me so hard that I didn't even process the impossible part that this man had shown me the scene with a flick of his fingers.
I thought I'd feel relieved.
I wanted to feel relieved.
But instead, my chest tightened. The only person who had ever been tied to my existence no matter how broken, was gone.
Then the old man snapped his fingers again.
This time, he showed me another life.
A boy my age. Someone who looked nothing like me, yet felt strangely close.
He loved music. Singing, specifically.
Even when he was poor, even when he worked exhausting jobs just to survive, the moment he stood on a small stage in a rundown bar, singing into an old microphone, his face lit up.
That was the happiest I had ever seen anyone look.
I watched his life unfold in fragments meeting a woman, falling in love, dreaming of a future.
Then losing it all.
She died giving birth.
And the man broke.
Alcohol replaced music. Anger replaced warmth.
He took it out on the child not out of cruelty, but weakness.
Every time the child cried behind a closed door, the man cried too.
He wanted to apologize.
He never did.
That's when I understood.
That was my father.
That was the life that came before mine.
It explained everything the silence when he saw me practicing guitar, the way he never stopped me, even once.
Seeing my expression, the old man smiled.
"Do you pity him?" he asked.
I thought for a moment before answering.
"No. Whatever he went through, it doesn't excuse what he did to a child."
The old man nodded.
"Before he died, he asked me for one thing."
I looked up.
"He asked me to give his son the life he deserved."
My vision blurred slightly.
I didn't forgive him.
But the hatred… eased.
"Did you accept?" I asked.
"Yes," the old man said. "Under one condition."
He explained it then.
Another boy. Another life.
A seventeen-year-old named Kuroda Ren, who had begged for help not for himself, but for his family.
I would take his place.
I would live his life.
And in return, I would treat his family as they treat me.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
"I'll give you a gift," the old man added. "To help you survive. What you do with it is your choice."
I agreed.
And then-
I woke up here.
This Ren's body had failed him.
At seventeen, he weighed far more than his frame could support. His heart gave out after years of neglect, stress, and exhaustion from working to support himself and his sister.
Only one sister.
Kuroda Aoi.
Fifteen years old. Frail since birth.
The parents were gone.
And before they were gone, they were monsters.
They never laid a hand on Aoi.
Because Ren always stood in front of her.
He took everything.
The neighborhood knew. Some pitied him. Some whispered. No one intervened.
Ren dropped out of school to work. To survive. To keep Aoi alive.
And when he died…
His last thought was regret.
Regret that he couldn't do better.
"…Don't worry," I whispered softly. "I'll take care of her."
The heaviness in my chest eased. The memories settled.
Then-
"Ren…?"
A quiet, sleepy voice came from the other bed.
I turned my head.
Aoi was sitting up slightly, rubbing her eyes.
"Is it morning already?"
"No," I said gently. "Go back to sleep."
She hesitated for a second, then nodded and curled back under the blanket.
When her breathing evened out, I checked the time on my phone.
[04:50 AM]
Too early to sleep again.
As I sat up, a translucent blue window appeared in front of me.
[Mission Available]
Walk 3 km within 1 hour
Reward:+1 CON
Accept?
So this was the gift.
A system.
I smiled.
"Accept."
The window vanished.
Another appeared.
=========================Character Status=========================
Name: Kuroda Ren
Level: 01
HP: 30/30MP: 90/90
STR: 3
DEX: 2
CON: 2
INT: 9
WIS: 9
CHA: 3
AGL: 2
LUK: ??
Skills:
================================================================
Low.
Pathetic, even.
But measurable.
And that was enough.
I quietly changed clothes and slipped out of the room.
This life wouldn't end the same way.
Not this time.