"Blam." Vincent threw the door open, and his eyes went wide. He saw his wife, dressed only in her underwear, locked in a passionate kiss with a large man who was already half-naked on his bed. Vincent recognized him immediately.
"Sarah? Why is Brandon here?" Vincent asked.
Hearing the question, Brandon looked startled and jumped up, but Sarah just rolled her eyes as if Vincent was a major inconvenience. She calmed Brandon down before standing up and approaching Vincent.
"Wh... why is he here, Sarah?" Vincent asked again.
Vincent's fists were clenched and trembling; his emotions had surged past the breaking point.
"Why? Because I invited him. Is there a problem? I don't think so. Who told you to come home anyway? Go find a job," Sarah replied.
"Boom." Something inside Vincent's head snapped. He shoved Sarah's shoulder with his one hand, but Brandon stepped in, shoved Vincent out of the room, and looked down at him with a sneering grin.
"Don't touch my Sarah," Brandon said, standing over him.
"Wh... what? What did you say, Brandon? Your Sarah? I'm her husband," Vincent shouted.
"So what if you're the husband? What can you even give her? You can't even handle things in bed with only one hand, can you? Hahaha," Brandon mocked.
"You've gone too far," Vincent barked.
He lunged forward, but he was no match for a man as large and muscular as Brandon. He was thrown back hard, slamming into the living room table. Vincent rose slowly, seeing Sarah just watching him without offering any help. Instead, she asked Brandon if Vincent had hurt him. Vincent's heart was utterly shattered. Finally, the words he had suppressed for years poured out.
"You're cruel, Sarah. I became a cripple for you!" Vincent roared.
Sarah fell silent, turning her face away and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Yeah, I know. That's why I took responsibility and married you. But that's enough now. My debt is paid, so let me go," Sarah said.
Instead of feeling remorse, Sarah doubled down, cornering Vincent by calling him a penniless orphan. She told him she had only married him out of a sense of obligation and pity, without a shred of love. Hearing this, Vincent looked down. His tears had stopped; his rage had peaked and crystallized into ice within his heart. He forced himself to stand despite the immense pain in his body.
Limping, he walked into the bedroom, passing the two half-naked people. He grabbed a bag and stuffed it with his clothes. When he was done, he walked out of the house without a single glance back at Sarah and Brandon, who was now holding her and smiling as Vincent left. Sarah looked away, her face hidden, clearly not wanting Vincent to see any hint of regret.
Vincent wandered aimlessly, his head spinning, unable to think. Sarah's words about marrying him just for debt repayment tore through his soul. He felt like an absolute fool for enduring the insults of his in-laws and Sarah's friends just to be with her. His grip tightened and his tears dried up; he was so angry he couldn't feel anything anymore. But suddenly—
"Hey... watch out!"
"Hoonk!"
Hearing the shout and the horn, Vincent looked up and realized he was in the middle of a highway. A truck was right on top of him. Then, everything went dark.
***
Back in the present, Vincent—who now remembered everything—looked at his right arm again. He turned it over, opening and clenching his fist.
"Who saved me... everything went dark after that and I don't remember a thing," Vincent muttered to himself.
"Click."
The door opened. A woman about 38 years old walked in. Her face went pale with shock, looking at Vincent as if she were seeing a ghost. "Thud." She dropped her handbag. But she wasn't the only one surprised; Vincent was stunned because he knew exactly who she was. It was his aunt, and she looked incredibly young, far different from his last memory of her. She pointed at him.
"You... why are you awake? Weren't you in a coma? And why is your arm healed?" his aunt asked, stunned—but she also looked relieved? She almost looked happy.
Vincent didn't answer because he was just as shocked. He looked back at his hand, where the prosthetic arm was clearly visible. He was definitely confused by the expression on his aunt's face, since she was usually cold and indifferent, but more than anything, he felt his blood boil at the sight of her.
She was one of the two people who had snatched away his parents' inheritance, made the decision to amputate his limb while he was in a coma, and constantly squeezed him for money without a second thought for his situation after he married Sarah, clinging to him like a parasite.
The room fell silent. Vincent stared at his aunt, who remained frozen by the door. He gripped the bed railing with his prosthetic hand. Moments later, a man around 40 years old entered. When he saw Vincent, he was equally stunned. At the sight of the man's face, "clang," Vincent's prosthetic hand accidentally crushed the iron railing, bending it. That man was his uncle.
But unlike his wife, the uncle quickly traded his shock for a smile, looking moved to see Vincent awake. He rushed over and opened his arms for a hug. Vincent stayed still, seething, letting his uncle hug him without returning the gesture, his entire body shaking. After pulling away, the uncle looked at Vincent's face and then at the mangled iron railing.
"I'm so grateful you're awake, Vincent. And it looks like your right arm is just fine. Your aunt and I were so worried when we heard you were brought to the hospital two days ago," his uncle said, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.
Despite his rage, Vincent was slightly startled by the words. He glanced at his hand on the railing and realized: it was only the third day in the hospital. He had only been in a coma for two days, not two months like he'd been told before about his arm being destroyed. Vincent looked up at his smiling uncle, then at his aunt, who was wearing expensive clothes and standing in stunned silence.
"So... does this mean I've gone back in time?" Vincent thought, staring at his uncle.
A doctor entered and was also surprised. He approached Vincent, checking his vitals and his arm. Vincent was puzzled when the doctor treated the arm like a normal limb rather than a prosthetic.
"Who attached the prosthetic to my stump, Doctor?" Vincent asked, his 25-year-old soul speaking.
The doctor looked up and removed his glasses, peering at Vincent as if he'd just grown a second head.
"Your arm is completely healed and it's certainly not a prosthetic. Why would you ask that? Do you remember what happened?" the doctor asked anxiously.
"Sorry, Doc. Don't worry, I remember exactly what happened. It's burned into my soul," Vincent replied with a cold smile, glancing at his aunt and uncle.
The uncle and aunt flinched. The smile vanished from his uncle's face, and they looked at Vincent as if they were seeing him for the first time. The aunt kept her mouth shut so tight her jaw looked strained. Vincent turned back to the doctor and answered his questions as best he could. Then, he caught a glimpse of the doctor's digital watch. It was 10:00 AM, March 20, 2014—three days after the camping trip. He saw his faint reflection in the doctor's glasses. He was back in his 14-year-old body, but his eyes were cold and experienced.
"I see... I've gone back to the past to redo it all. Good. This time, I'm the one who decides my fate. Not my uncle, not my aunt, and definitely not Sarah," Vincent muttered in his mind. His blood was still boiling, so much so that he almost didn't hear the voice in his head.
[System activated.]
[First activation reward: $500,000 received. Funds will be transferred to a new account created by the system in the host's name.]
[First Quest: A second chance to change your fate from the start. Time: 3 days. Failure: Arm will detach and death occurs. Reward: $100,000]