The blaring sound of an alarm startled Ji-eun Kang awake. Her head ached, her thoughts muddled as she squinted at the bright light streaming through unfamiliar curtains. Curtains? She didn’t remember having curtains this plain.

Groaning, Ji-eun sat up in bed, rubbing her temples. Something was wrong. The luxurious penthouse she had grown accustomed to over the years was gone, replaced by a modestly decorated room that seemed eerily familiar. Her heart pounded as she scanned her surroundings—a small desk covered in textbooks, a framed picture of her younger self with her parents on the nightstand, and a uniform hanging neatly on the closet door.

The uniform.

Her breath hitched. She scrambled out of bed and rushed to the mirror above the desk. What she saw sent her reeling. The face staring back wasn’t the composed, mature woman she had become. It was her 17-year-old self—rounder cheeks, unblemished skin, and wide, confused eyes.

“This… This can’t be real,” she whispered, clutching the edge of the desk to steady herself.

The memories of the previous night were still vivid. She had been sitting alone in her grand apartment, nursing a glass of wine, thinking about the one person she could never quite forget—Jae-min Yoo. His name alone made her chest tighten with regret. She had pushed him away, dismissed his feelings, and ignored his worth. Now, at 34, she understood how much she had lost.

But this? This was impossible. Somehow, she was back in high school.

---

Ji-eun’s panic was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

“Ji-eun! You’re going to be late!” her mother’s voice called from the hallway.

Her mother. Ji-eun hadn’t heard that voice in over a decade. Tears pricked her eyes as she opened the door, finding her younger-looking mother standing there with an exasperated expression.

“What’s wrong with you this morning? You’re usually up by now,” her mother said, frowning.

“I… I’m fine,” Ji-eun stammered, her voice trembling. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Her mother gave her a skeptical look but nodded before heading downstairs. Ji-eun closed the door and leaned against it, her heart racing. This wasn’t a dream. It was real. Somehow, she had been given a second chance.

---

By the time she arrived at school, Ji-eun had managed to steady herself, though her mind was still spinning. The hallways buzzed with chatter, students hurrying to their classes. It was all so familiar—the pristine uniforms, the scent of freshly waxed floors, the cliques of teenagers laughing and gossiping.

She made her way to her classroom, her pulse quickening as she stepped inside. Her classmates looked exactly as she remembered, their faces frozen in time. Then her eyes landed on him.

Jae-min Yoo sat in the back row, his head bent over a notebook. His glasses slid down his nose as he scribbled something, oblivious to the world around him. He looked just as he had in high school—thin, with slightly unkempt hair and a quiet, studious demeanor.

Ji-eun’s chest tightened. Seeing him again, this version of him, was overwhelming. She remembered how he used to look at her back then, his gaze filled with admiration and a touch of longing. But she had never given him a second thought.

“Ji-eun, are you okay?”

The voice of her best friend, Soo-jin, pulled her out of her thoughts. Ji-eun forced a smile and nodded, taking her seat by the window. But she couldn’t stop glancing at Jae-min, who seemed entirely unaware of her presence.

---

The day passed in a blur. Ji-eun struggled to focus in class, her mind racing with questions. Why had she been sent back? Was this some cosmic punishment or a rare opportunity to fix her mistakes?

By lunchtime, she decided to approach Jae-min. She found him sitting alone in the library, a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. It was a sight that tugged at her heart.

“Jae-min,” she said softly, stepping up to his table.

He looked up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Ji-eun? What are you doing here?”

“I just… wanted to say hi,” she replied, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

Jae-min blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Hi,” he said cautiously, his tone polite but distant.

Ji-eun hesitated. She had no idea how to bridge the gap between them, not when she had spent so much of their past ignoring him. But she had to try.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.

Jae-min hesitated before nodding. Ji-eun took a seat across from him, her heart pounding. She glanced at the book he was reading—an old, dog-eared novel about perseverance and hope.

“You always liked reading, didn’t you?” she said, attempting to start a conversation.

Jae-min gave her a curious look. “I guess,” he said, his tone wary. “Why do you care?”

The question stung, but Ji-eun couldn’t blame him. She had never cared before. She had dismissed him as unimportant, a nobody. But now, sitting across from him, she saw him differently. He wasn’t just a boy with unpolished manners and second-hand clothes. He was someone who had once loved her wholeheartedly, someone she had taken for granted.

“I guess I never got to know you,” she said, her voice soft. “I’d like to change that.”

Jae-min stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Ji-eun thought he might reject her. But then he nodded, a small, cautious smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Okay,” he said.

It was a start.

The days that followed were nothing short of surreal for Ji-eun. She tried her best to navigate her new reality without drawing too much attention. It wasn’t easy. Her sudden interest in Jae-min had already sparked whispers among her classmates. Ji-eun Kang, the wealthy heiress who usually kept to herself, was now seen sitting with the quiet scholarship student during lunch breaks and occasionally walking with him after school.

---

Ji-eun found herself waiting outside the library one afternoon, knowing Jae-min would show up to study. The warm spring air carried the scent of blooming flowers, and Ji-eun smiled faintly, marveling at how vivid everything felt compared to her memories.

When Jae-min arrived, he looked as he always did—slightly disheveled, with his bag slung over one shoulder and a stack of books in his arms. He froze when he saw her.

“You’re here again,” he said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Ji-eun nodded, brushing off his skepticism with a grin. “I thought you might need a study buddy.”

Jae-min’s brow furrowed. “You don’t strike me as someone who studies much.”

Ouch. Ji-eun laughed awkwardly, realizing she couldn’t argue with that. In her previous life, academics had been the least of her concerns. She had relied on her family’s wealth to breeze through life, something she now regretted deeply.

“Maybe not before,” she admitted, “but I’m trying to change.”

Jae-min’s expression softened slightly, though he still seemed wary. “Why?”

The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I realized I’ve been wasting my potential. And… I think I can learn a lot from you.”

Jae-min stared at her for a moment before sighing. “Fine. But don’t expect me to do all the work.”

Ji-eun grinned, feeling a flicker of hope. This was progress.

---

Over the next few weeks, Ji-eun made it a point to spend more time with Jae-min. At first, their conversations were brief and awkward, limited to schoolwork and the occasional small talk. But slowly, the walls between them began to crumble.

She learned that Jae-min worked part-time at a convenience store to help support his family. His father was a factory worker, and his mother ran a small laundromat. They didn’t have much, but Jae-min spoke about them with pride and love.

Ji-eun found herself drawn to his sincerity. In her previous life, she had been surrounded by people who only cared about appearances and money. Jae-min was different. He was grounded, hardworking, and genuine—a stark contrast to the shallow world she had once inhabited.

One afternoon, as they walked home together, Ji-eun couldn’t help but ask, “Do you ever feel bitter about… you know, not having as much as others?”

Jae-min glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But my parents taught me to focus on what I do have, not what I don’t. Besides, feeling bitter won’t change anything.”

Ji-eun was silent, struck by his perspective. She had spent so much of her life chasing things that ultimately didn’t matter, only to find herself empty and regretful.

“You’re amazing,” she said before she could stop herself.

Jae-min blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ji-eun said quickly, her cheeks flushing. She looked away, embarrassed by her sudden outburst.

---

Despite her growing feelings, Ji-eun couldn’t forget the purpose of her regression. She wasn’t here to fall in love—not yet, at least. She was here to make things right, to ensure that Jae-min didn’t have to carry all the burdens alone.

But the more time she spent with him, the harder it became to separate her intentions from her emotions. Jae-min’s quiet determination and subtle kindness were chipping away at the walls she had built around her heart.

And though he didn’t say it out loud, Ji-eun could tell that Jae-min was beginning to see her differently too. The cautious smiles, the way his gaze lingered on her just a little longer than necessary—they were small, almost imperceptible signs, but they meant the world to her.

For the first time in her life, Ji-eun wasn’t chasing after status or approval. She was chasing after something far more precious: a connection worth fighting for.

Ji-eun could feel the shift between them. Jae-min, once distant and guarded, was beginning to open up. Their conversations grew more personal, their shared moments more comfortable. But as their connection deepened, Ji-eun became acutely aware of the whispers around them.

“Why is she hanging out with him?” a classmate murmured during lunch.

“She must be bored. There’s no way she’s serious,” another replied.

Ji-eun ignored them, focusing on Jae-min. But she couldn’t deny that their words stung. In her previous life, she had been one of those people—judgmental and dismissive. Now, she saw how damaging those careless words could be.

---

That afternoon, Ji-eun found herself sitting on the school rooftop with Jae-min. It had become their unofficial hideout, a quiet place where they could talk without interruptions.

Jae-min leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “You don’t have to stick around, you know,” he said suddenly.

Ji-eun frowned. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I know what people are saying. That you’re wasting your time with someone like me. If you’re worried about your reputation—”

“I’m not,” Ji-eun interrupted, her tone firm. She stood up, stepping closer to him. “I don’t care what they think, Jae-min. I’m here because I want to be.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Why?”

The question hung in the air. Ji-eun’s heart pounded as she searched for an answer. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth—not yet. But she could be honest about one thing.

“Because you matter to me,” she said softly.

Jae-min’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then he looked away, his cheeks tinged with pink. “You’re strange, Ji-eun.”

She smiled, relief washing over her. “Maybe. But I’m not going anywhere, so get used to it.”

---

As the days turned into weeks, Ji-eun began to notice more about Jae-min. The way he bit his lip when he was concentrating, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about. She also saw the exhaustion he tried to hide, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.

One evening, as they walked home together, Ji-eun couldn’t hold back anymore. “You work too hard,” she said.

Jae-min shrugged. “I have to. My family needs me.”

“But you’re just a teenager. You shouldn’t have to carry so much on your shoulders.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Life doesn’t always give you a choice, Ji-eun. You wouldn’t understand.”

Ji-eun flinched, his words cutting deeper than he realized. He was right—her wealth and privilege had shielded her from struggles like his. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to lighten his burden.

“I want to help,” she said quietly.

Jae-min’s expression softened, but he shook his head. “You don’t have to. This is my responsibility, not yours.”

“Maybe,” Ji-eun replied, “but friends help each other. And whether you like it or not, I’m your friend.”

He stared at her for a long moment before sighing. “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

She grinned. “I’ve been told.”

---

That night, Ji-eun lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She thought about Jae-min’s struggles and her own past mistakes. She couldn’t change everything, but she could be there for him in ways she hadn’t before.

And maybe, just maybe, she could make him realize that he didn’t have to face the world alone.