La… la… la… la…
I walked down the street with slow steps, enjoying the cool evening wind of early summer. By the time I reached my "apartment," I almost snorted at the word. It couldn't really be called an apartment—it was just a small, run-down space with three cramped rooms connected together: a living room, a bedroom, and a tiny kitchen with an attached bathroom.
Shabby? Yes.
Perfect for one person? Also yes.
Easy to clean, cheap to maintain—good enough.
I opened the door of my little place, and before doing anything else, I suddenly felt dusty and grimy from the whole day. So I went straight to the bathroom. After a quick bath, feeling fresh, I grabbed some instant noodles, set them on the stove, and went to the bedroom to change into a comfortable t-shirt and shorts.
By the time I was done, the noodles were ready.
I carried the bowl back to my room, switched on the old table fan, and sat on the bed. Slurping noodles while watching reels on my phone—simple, mindless peace.
When I finished, I tossed the empty packet into the dustbin, lay down on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. A sigh escaped from me.
My life… I could be doing so much better. Why don't I give my best when I know I should?
I silently promised myself that I would study properly for the next exam.
But slowly… very slowly… my thoughts drifted away from motivation to the reels I had watched… then to novels… and eventually all motivation evaporated like smoke. My hand reached toward the phone again, wanting to check updates and new chapters.
As soon as I turned the phone on—
A sudden jolt of electricity shot through my whole body.
The world snapped into darkness.
I found myself floating in some pitch-black space. No sound. No ground. Just empty void stretching endlessly. I looked around, sighing at my stupid life. Heavy and boring as it already was, now I had to deal with whatever cliché was coming next—maybe reincarnation as a chosen hero to save some weird world.
Just thinking about that gave me a headache.
Please… just let it be a normal middle-class family if I really have to reincarnate.
A peaceful life would be fine too.
But if I accidentally reincarnate into some bloody manga or novel world… then it's over for me.
I didn't even know if I was going to reincarnate at all.
While I was thinking about all kinds of nonsense, the darkness suddenly burst into blinding white—then snapped to black again.
Coldness rushed up my spine.
I opened my eyes.
A narrow dirt road lay before me, the kind you'd find in the slums. People wrapped in rags walked by slowly, their faces thin, their bodies weak. I stood at the corner, blinking, breath turning visible in the icy air.
Winter.
I felt much smaller than before. When I looked at my hands… they were the hands of a child.
Around ten years old.
A realization hit me—I had been age-reversed.
I checked my body in a panic, searching for any hint of injury or accident. But there were no wounds, no pain. Relief washed through me. At least I didn't die from some stupid cause.
Slowly, memories that weren't mine began slipping into my mind.
Bits and pieces.
Broken glimpses.
Like watching someone else's life from underwater.
This body had been an orphan. His grandfather died when he was seven. From then on, he survived on small thefts and begging. His "home" was nothing but a ruined shelter at the edge of the city. In this freezing winter, without proper clothes or nutrition, he had stolen two pieces of bread, run until his legs gave out, and finally collapsed from hunger, cold, and exhaustion.
That's how he died.
And how I ended up here.
A shiver ran down my spine—not from fear but from the biting cold. My stomach growled painfully. I looked down; the two stolen pieces of bread were still in my hands.
Snowflakes fell silently around me.
Thinking about the situation wouldn't help right now. The cold was too severe; if I stayed out any longer, I might end up like the original owner of this body.
So I quickly ate the bread to fill my stomach even a little. Then, relying on the boy's fading memories, I headed toward the ruined shelter he used to call home—my new resting place.