The late afternoon sun hung comfortably above the streets of Seoul as Zet made his way back from the mall. The plastic bags in his hands were not heavy, but he could feel the subtle weight of them swinging gently with each step.
He walked at a relaxed pace. The city felt different now that he knew where he was.
Seoul.
The capital of South Korea.
Even in the year 2006, the place carried a certain rhythm. Cars passed steadily. Buses groaned as they stopped to pick up passengers. Shop signs in Hangul glowed faintly as daylight began to soften.
Zet slowed down near a street vendor stall that he had passed earlier in the morning.
The smell reached him first.
Spicy. Savory. Warm.
Tteokbokki.
The bright red rice cakes simmered in a metal pan, steam rising into the air. Beside them were skewered fish cakes soaking in broth, their aroma rich and comforting.
An elderly woman stood behind the cart, stirring occasionally with practiced ease.
Zet paused.
He had already bought groceries, but this felt like something he should experience. Something ordinary.
He stepped closer.
"Annyeonghaseyo," he greeted politely.
The elderly woman looked up and smiled warmly. "Annyeong. What would you like?"
Her eyes scanned him briefly. Just another teenage boy in casual clothes.
"I'll take one serving of tteokbokki and two fish cake skewers, please."
His Korean flowed naturally, smooth and confident.
The woman nodded approvingly. "You speak clearly. Not mumbling like other boys your age."
Zet chuckled lightly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She handed him a small paper cup filled with steaming rice cakes and passed him the skewers.
As he paid, she studied him again.
"You're new around here, aren't you?"
Zet blinked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"I've been selling here for fifteen years. I remember faces," she said with a proud grin. "You moved into the two story house down that way, right?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes. Recently."
"Living alone?"
"For now," he answered carefully.
The woman clicked her tongue softly but did not press further.
"Study hard. This area has good schools. Don't waste your youth."
The words were simple.
But they lingered.
"I'll remember that," Zet replied sincerely.
He stepped aside and took a bite of the tteokbokki.
Spicy. Sweet. Warm.
The flavor exploded across his tongue.
He almost laughed.
Something so small, yet it felt more alive than anything in that endless limbo.
After finishing his snack, he resumed walking.
A small fruit shop caught his attention next.
Bright oranges and apples were stacked neatly in crates outside. A middle aged man was arranging them carefully.
Zet approached.
"How much for the apples?"
"Three thousand won for a kilo," the man replied without looking up.
Zet picked up one apple and examined it casually.
Fresh. Firm. Good quality.
"I'll take a kilo."
As the man weighed the apples, he glanced at Zet.
"You from around here?"
Zet smiled faintly. "Just moved in."
"Hm. Which school?"
The question came naturally, almost automatically.
Zet hesitated for half a second.
His implanted memories supplied the answer smoothly.
"Seoul High School."
The man nodded approvingly. "Good school. Competitive."
"I've heard."
"Study hard. University is everything these days."
Zet paid and thanked him before continuing home.
The conversations were simple.
Ordinary.
Yet they grounded him in this world more than anything else.
Nothing extra ordinary.
Just people trying to live.
By the time he reached his house, the sky had shifted into soft shades of orange and pink.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The quiet greeted him again.
He placed the groceries neatly in the kitchen and washed the fruit before setting it in a bowl.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Alone. But not lonely.
He walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa.
His mind felt sharp. Calm. Organized.
The house was comfortable, not luxurious. It fit his decision to start normally.
Still, he knew that behind the scenes, Sebas had built something enormous. Major shareholdings. Corporate influence. Global connections.
And yet here he was, eating fruit in a quiet suburban home. Zet leaned back and closed his eyes.
"School…"
The word carried weight. He was fifteen. Which meant high school. He could technically avoid it.
With his intelligence, he could pass any qualification exams instantly. He could accelerate. Skip years. Even start managing businesses quietly.
But would that defeat the purpose?
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
In his first life, he rushed everything. Chased status. Chased recognition. Chased validation. And lost sight of what mattered.
Now he had power.
Gifts beyond normal humans.
But if he immediately revealed excellence beyond comprehension, he would draw attention.
Teachers would question.
Peers would grow suspicious.
Even if the "no suspicion" clause existed, he did not want unnecessary focus.
He stood up and walked toward the kitchen, grabbing an apple.
As he took a bite, he thought carefully.
Going to school meant structure. Routine. Social interaction. Experiencing youth properly. It also meant blending in.
He could perform well, but not perfectly. Excel, but not dominate. Build relationships. Observe the culture. Understand the society he now lived in.
It would also help him build networks naturally. Future politicians. Business heirs. Influential families.
Seoul High School was not an ordinary institution. It had reputation.bHe walked upstairs and entered his room.
On the desk were textbooks already arranged neatly.
Mathematics. Korean literature. English. History. Science.
He picked up a math book and flipped through it casually.
His mind processed every formula instantly.
Too easy. He closed it.
"That won't be a problem."
He sat on the edge of his bed.
Another thought surfaced.
Would he enjoy it? Would pretending to be average frustrate him? He lay back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling.
Memories of limbo resurfaced faintly.
The endless darkness.
The regret.
The loneliness.
He turned his head to the side.
"I prayed for another chance."
This was it.bNot to dominate immediately. Not to exploit everything around him.
But to live. To experience.bSchool was part of that.
He sat up again. "Alright."
He would attend.
But he would do it his way. Not the desperate, approval seeking version of himself from his first life.
He walked to the mirror and looked at his reflection.
A fifteen year old boy. Handsome. Calm. Composed.
"You're starting over," he murmured.
He picked up his newly purchased phone and checked the time.
Early evening.
A message notification appeared.
Sebas.
'Your number has been saved, Young Master. If you require anything, inform me.'
Zet typed a reply.
"I'm fine. Just settling in. I'll start school soon."
The response came quickly.
'Understood. I have already ensured that your academic records are flawless.'
Of course he had.
Zet smiled faintly.
He placed the phone on the desk and began organizing his room slightly, arranging books, adjusting small details.
Outside, night slowly descended over Seoul.
Streetlights flickered on.
Distant sounds of traffic softened.
He went downstairs to prepare a simple dinner from the groceries he bought.
Nothing fancy. Just noodles and eggs.
As he ate alone at the dining table, he reflected quietly.
Today, he walked the streets. Talked to locals. Bought food like any normal teenager.
It felt small. But meaningful. No grand plans. No dramatic declarations. Just steady steps.
After cleaning up, he returned upstairs and lay down on his bed.
Tomorrow would likely be another ordinary day.
And soon, school would begin.
He closed his eyes.
This time, there was no darkness swallowing him whole. Only sleep. Natural. Peaceful.
And entirely his.