The dim glow of streetlights flickered against the damp pavement as Windy sat on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, his fingers trembling slightly. His breath was ragged, his clothes stained with sweat and dirt.
Tonight was the night.
He had spent years preparing for this moment—endless nights of research, training, and pushing his body beyond its limits. His hands clenched into fists as he replayed the plan in his head, every detail refined to perfection. There could be no mistakes.
His heart pounded as he reached into his tattered robe, pulling out a small, delicate object. The weight of it in his palm felt heavier than it should.
windy exhaled deeply.
Then, with absolute determination, he lifted the steamed bun to his mouth and took a bite.
It was still warm.
Finally, after months of surviving on scraps, he had stolen a meal worth savouring.
Now, he just had to escape the city guards alive.
windy had barely swallowed his first bite when a furious voice rang out
"Thief! Someone catch that thief!"
Wendy's heart raced as the cry of "Thief!" tore through the night. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed against the cold alley walls, growing louder with each passing second. He barely had time to wipe the crumbs from his lips before instinct took over—run.
His legs burned as he ran through the narrow streets, his breath coming in sharp gasp
The city guards were fast, but he was faster. Years of surviving in the slums had turned his body into a machine built for escape.
Yet, despite the thrill of the chase, a bitter thought swirled through his brain.
Is this all my life amounts to? Running, hiding, and stealing just to survive another day?
His fingers clenched around the last remnants of the bun. It wasn't just food—it was proof that he existed, that he had fought, that he hadn't given up. But in the grand scheme of things, what did it matter? No one in this city would remember Windy. No family, no friends, no future.
Stop! you little basted the city guards almost caught up
In a panic he forced the thoughts aside and began to run faster and when he turned in a corner—only for his foot to slip on the slick pavement. No—!
He stumbled into the street, and in that instant, everything slowed. Headlights. A loud horn. The thunderous roar of an approaching truck. His body froze, but his mind raced.
So this is how it ends? Not in a grand battle, not in a heroic struggle, but like a rat crushed under the weight of the world.
The impact came too fast for him to feel pain. His body crumpled beneath the metal, blood pooling beneath him, warmth rapidly slipping away. His vision blurred as the cold night sky stretched endlessly above him. His breaths grew shallow.
Seventeen years… and I did nothing with them.
Regret. That was all he felt. He had spent every waking moment fighting for survival but had never truly lived. No love. No dreams fulfilled. No one to mourn him. His fingers twitched, reaching for something—someone—but there was nothing.
As the world faded, he felt a strange pull, as if something deep within was calling him back. Darkness swallowed him whole.
And then—light.
A warmth he had never known. The soft embrace of fabric. The distant murmur of voices speaking a language unfamiliar yet instinctively understood. Windy gasped for breath—but the cry that escaped him was small, weak, infantile. His fingers, once calloused from hardship, curled into tiny fists.
Waite! what's going on? why am I not dead yet?
Have I reincarnated?
windy was shocked not because he was reincarnated but because he never thought that the heavens would be merciful enough to give him a second chance.
windy quickly began to gather his thoughts he made an oath to himself,
"In my past life, I was a candle flickering in the storm, giving light to others while letting myself burn away. No more. This time, I will be the sunrise—radiant, unwavering, and boundless. I will cherish each breath as if it were poetry written in the wind, embrace each moment like a river flowing freely to the sea.
My path is mine alone to walk, not a road paved by the hands of fate or the will of another. In this life, I will not merely exist—I will live, not as a shadow, but as the light that no darkness can dim."
And thus windy made his choose clear to live his life to the fullest.