It was a lazy afternoon and hunger got the best of me. I hadn't even fixed my messy hair after a nap, but my stomach didn't care. I threw on whatever was closest and headed to the grocery store. Two bentos should do the trick. As I approached the park, I noticed a little girl running toward the street. She wasn't paying attention to the truck speeding her way. My body moved before my mind could catch up, and I shoved her out of harm's way.

Everything went blank.

Pain shot through my body—at least I thought it did. When I opened my eyes, I was in my bedroom. But something felt off. The pain had disappeared. The room looked familiar, yet wrong at the same time. My mom's voice echoed from outside, calling me for dinner.

"Kleinn, let's have dinner. What are you doing? Hurry up!" Her voice was so real that for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. My mom and dad weren't supposed to be here; they were abroad on a business trip. Confused, I stumbled out of bed.

Passing by the mirror, my heart stopped. The face staring back wasn't mine—or at least, not the one I'd known for years. I looked... young. Too young. The reflection was me at 15.

"Holy fuck!" The words slipped out, though no one heard them. Last I remembered, I was 31, saving a girl from a truck. Was this a dream? If it were, I'd have woken up by now. This wasn't some isekai manga where I'd expect to be in another world—this was my old life, and it looked like I'd somehow traveled back in time.

"Kleinn, hurry, or your grilled chicken will be eaten by your brother and dad!" my mom called again. She sounded impatient, like she always did when dinner was ready.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" I replied, still in disbelief.

At the dinner table, I sat with my mom, dad, and little brother, Jack. The sight was surreal, like watching an old home video. But it was real. I wasn't hungry; the food on my plate was untouched. My mind was racing, trying to grasp what was happening.

"You okay?" my mom asked, her eyes scanning me with concern. "You look pale, and you're not eating."

"No, Mom, I'm fine. Just... a stomach thing. I'll be okay after some rest."

"Do you need medicine? Is it that bad? We can take you to the hospital," she added, her voice edging toward worry.

"No, really. I just need to rest," I reassured her. My body was trembling, not from illness, but from the weight of whatever was happening. How could I explain that I had just come back from the future? I had to act normal. I couldn't let them know anything was wrong.

"Okay," Dad chimed in. "If it gets worse, let us know. You don't have to go to school tomorrow if you're still not feeling well."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll be fine."

"Just don't game until you're better," he warned with a grin.

Damn, gaming was the first thing on my mind.

"Sure, Dad, you can trust me," I said, knowing full well I'd probably break that promise.

From across the table, Jack shot me a sly grin. "I bet he's gonna game... then watch porn."

"If you say that again, you're not getting my Supreme jacket," I snapped back.

"No, no! I was just joking!" he quickly apologized, panic in his eyes.

"Don't say that to your brother, Jack," Mom said sternly.

"Sorry, Mom. It was a joke," Jack muttered.

I headed upstairs, my mind spinning. Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do next.

The next day at school, I tried my best to fit in. Brian and Blake, my old friends, approached me during class.

"Yo, Kleinn! Did you watch Hunter in Black last night? I f***ing loved it when all the zombies got wiped out!" Brian exclaimed, buzzing with excitement.

Ahh... Hunter in Black. Damn, it had been 16 years since I'd last watched that show. Every Monday, Brian would come up, asking about it. It only aired on weekends, and I remember how obsessed we all were.

"Oh, yeah, that was a great scene," I replied, forcing enthusiasm. Honestly, I couldn't care less about zombies right now, but I had to act like everything was normal.

Blake stared at me, his eyes narrowed. Damn, did I screw up? How did I act when I was 15? It had been so long.

"Hey, what's up, Blake? Is there something on my face?" I asked, trying to deflect his suspicion.

"No, nothing. You just seem... different today. Usually, you're hyped about THIB because it's your favorite show," Blake said, his tone cautious.

"I am excited! What do you mean?" I stammered, trying not to sound too defensive.

Brian, oblivious to the tension, shrugged. "I don't get why you're saying that, Blake."

Damn, Blake's too perceptive.

After school, Brian and Blake invited me to karaoke, but I had bigger things on my mind. I told them I was still recovering from the "stomach thing" and needed rest. In reality, I needed to figure out what was going on.

On the bus ride to Midtown, an idea hit me. This was the perfect time to make money. I knew every major event that was about to happen—stock market crashes, booms, winners of big games. I rushed to the bank to open an account, and I started listing every company that would become a blue-chip stock in the future. The possibilities were endless.

I rushed home, booted up my computer, and started buying stocks—Apple, Amazon, all the big names. Then I sold my sneakers and hype beast clothes, betting the leftover money on football matches I knew the outcome of.

A month later, I checked my bank account and nearly passed out. I had $500,000 sitting in there. The next blue-chip stocks wouldn't hit their stride until 2012, so I couldn't rely on them yet.

"F*** yeah!" I screamed, my voice echoing in my room. My mom's voice floated up the stairs.

"Kleinn, what's going on?"

"Nothing, Mom!" I quickly called back.

Oh God, what am I doing? Please forgive me. Maybe I need this money for the task You've given me. Or... is the task to make money? I was just a regular employee in the future—maybe this is my second chance.

Hahaha, no way. I'll figure it out later.

That evening, my parents invited me for family time in the living room. On the TV, they were showing a news segment about a 15-year-old Italian boy who had written a song called "Perfect." He was performing it on stage in front of thousands of people. My family was enthralled, calling him a genius, a prodigy. But I... I just stared at the screen, speechless.

"No f***ing way."