Chapter 1:

The soft hum of his phone vibrating on the bedside table was the only sound in the room. Jung Minho didn't move. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind lost in a storm of thoughts that refused to quiet down. His body felt heavy, as though the weight of the world itself pressed him into the mattress. The tiny apartment he now called home was suffocating—so different from the spacious penthouse he'd once owned.

Another buzz.

Minho's gaze flicked to the phone, and his heart clenched when he saw the name. Manager Lee.

He didn't answer. What was there to say? They'd talked just yesterday, and it had been the same as always: Lee begging him to keep his head up, telling him the truth would come out eventually, that the fans would forgive him. But it had been a year since the scandal broke, and nothing had changed. His career was over.

The world had turned its back on him.

The accusations had started with a single anonymous post on a forum, claiming Minho had been involved in drugs and abuse. The claims spiraled out of control, with fabricated "evidence" and exaggerated rumors feeding the media frenzy. Sponsors dropped him overnight. His agency, once a pillar of support, released a cold, detached statement cutting ties. Even his group members, his so-called brothers, had gone silent.

The phone buzzed again.

This time, a text.

Hyung, please call me. Don't do anything stupid.

Minho swallowed hard, his throat dry. He knew people cared about him, but it didn't feel like enough. The love he'd once felt from millions of fans was gone, replaced by a relentless wave of hate. They called him a liar, a manipulator, a criminal. Every time he looked online, he saw messages telling him to disappear.

Maybe they were right.

The thought struck him like a lightning bolt, freezing him in place. A sudden wave of calmness settled over him, a contrast to the turmoil he'd felt for months. He sat up slowly, his movements robotic, and walked to the desk where a pen and a sheet of paper waited.

He didn't know what to write.

After several minutes, he scrawled a few words. "I'm sorry. I wasn't strong enough."

Setting the note down, he opened the drawer and took out the small bottle of pills. He had debated this for weeks, teetering on the edge, but tonight felt different. There was no fight left in him.

He poured the pills into his hand, his fingers trembling.

As he brought them closer to his lips, he closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable darkness.

And then—

A sharp pain pierced his chest, like a knife driving straight through his heart. He gasped, clutching at his chest as the world around him began to spin. The room blurred, his legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the cold floor.

In the midst of the pain, a strange voice echoed in his mind.

"Do you wish to start over?"

His eyes snapped open, but the room was gone. He was floating in a vast, endless darkness. The voice was calm and emotionless, yet somehow commanding.

"Jung Minho, your life has ended. Do you want another chance to change your fate?"

"What…?" His voice cracked, barely audible.

"Answer quickly. Yes or no."

Minho's mind was reeling. Another chance? Was this some kind of hallucination? Or a cruel joke his dying brain was playing on him?

The voice repeated, more urgent this time. "Yes or no."

"Yes!" he shouted, not even sure why. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was the tiniest spark of hope he didn't know he still had.

The darkness shifted, turning into a blinding white light. His body felt as though it were being torn apart, every cell rearranging itself. He screamed, but no sound came out.

And then—

Silence.

Minho woke with a start, gasping for air. His chest heaved as his eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings. He wasn't in his dingy apartment anymore. Instead, he was lying in a small, unfamiliar bedroom. A cracked mirror hung on the wall, reflecting a face that wasn't his.

Panic set in as he stumbled to his feet and ran to the mirror. The person staring back at him had sharp cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose, and a mop of unruly black hair. It wasn't Minho.

"What… what is this?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Before he could process the shock, a strange notification appeared in front of his eyes, floating like a hologram.

[System Activated]

Welcome, User. Your mission: Become the world's most famous actor.

Progress: 0%

Minho blinked, his mind struggling to comprehend the words.

"Actor? What the hell is going on?"

The system responded immediately, the voice from before now calm and clear.

"This is your second chance, Jung Minho. Succeed, and you may reclaim your life. Fail, and you will lose everything forever."

Minho stared at the mirror, at the face of the stranger staring back at him, and clenched his fists.

This wasn't what he expected. But if it was the only way to rewrite his story, then he had no choice but to take the stage once again.