The morning sun sliced through the classroom windows, casting long shadows across the scuffed desks as Jang Taesan slid into his seat, the familiar weight of his frayed backpack grounding him. The buzz of Noryangjin-dong's high school was a living thing—students whispering, pencils scratching, the faint creak of a ceiling fan struggling against the July heat of 2008. But for Taesan, every sound, every face, carried the weight of a life already lived. He was back in high school, a battlefield he'd barely survived the first time, now armed with the knowledge of a man who'd seen it all crumble.
His eyes flicked to the blackboard, where a history teacher, Ms. Park, scribbled dates about the Joseon Dynasty. Taesan didn't need to read them. Every fact, every question from his past life's CSAT prep, was burned into his memory. He could recite the answers in his sleep. But it wasn't just the academics that had his nerves on edge. Min-soo Kang's glare from across the room burned like a brand, a promise of trouble after their courtyard clash. Taesan's jaw tightened. He'd faced worse than bullies in his past life—corporate sharks, debt collectors, his own failures—but he wasn't untouchable yet. Not in this body.
The memory of his first martial arts session at Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy last night ached in his muscles, a reminder of how far he had to go. Master Choi's gruff words echoed: "Fire without control burns out fast." Taesan gripped his pencil, determination settling like steel in his bones. He'd master his body and mind, no matter what it took.
"Hey, Taesan, you zoning out again?" Han Do-jin's voice snapped him back, his friend's crooked grin flashing from the next desk. Do-jin's tie was a mess, as always, his carefree energy a stark contrast to the fate Taesan knew awaited him—a car crash in college that had left a hole in his heart. Not this time, Taesan vowed silently.
"Just thinking," Taesan said, forcing a smirk to mask the storm in his chest. "Trying to remember if Joseon kings were as boring as Ms. Park makes them sound."
Do-jin snorted, earning a sharp glance from the teacher. "You're weird lately, man. First you're a math genius, now you're cracking jokes? Who are you?"
Taesan shrugged, deflecting. "Just trying to survive this place." He couldn't tell Do-jin the truth—not about his death, not about the time-travel, not about the fire driving him to rewrite every mistake.
Class dragged on, but Taesan's focus was razor-sharp. When Ms. Park called on him to answer a question about King Sejong's contributions, he rattled off a precise response, weaving in details about the creation of Hangul that left the teacher blinking in surprise. Whispers rippled through the room, and Sophie Leclerc, seated a few rows away, shot him a look—half curious, half suspicious. Her sharp eyes lingered, like she was trying to crack a code. Taesan ignored her, but the attention was starting to pile up. He wasn't invisible anymore, and that was both a weapon and a risk.
At lunch, the cafeteria hummed with noise—trays clattering, students shouting over each other. Taesan sat alone, picking at a bowl of kimchi jjigae, his mind mapping out his next steps. The CSAT was his first hurdle, but Min-soo's presence loomed large. The bully was at a table across the room, surrounded by his cronies, his eyes locked on Taesan like a predator sizing up prey. Taesan's grip on his spoon tightened. He wasn't afraid—not exactly—but he knew Min-soo wouldn't let their last encounter slide. Not after Sophie humiliated him in front of everyone.
As if on cue, Min-soo stood, sauntering over with a swagger that drew every eye. His lackeys trailed behind, smirking. "Well, well, genius boy," Min-soo said, loud enough for the nearby tables to go quiet. "You think you're hot shit now, huh? Answering questions like some scholar?"
Taesan set his spoon down, meeting Min-soo's gaze without flinching. The old him would've shrunk, apologized, vanished into the crowd. But the man who'd faced a speeding car to save Emma Kim, who'd clawed through years of failure, wasn't backing down. "I don't think I'm anything," he said, voice low and steady. "But I'm not here for your games, Min-soo. Walk away."
The cafeteria hushed, tension crackling like static. Min-soo's smirk faltered, his face reddening. "You got a big mouth now, Jang. Maybe I should shut it for you."
Before Taesan could respond, a tray slammed onto the table beside him. Sophie Leclerc stood there, her ponytail swinging, her eyes blazing. "Kang, you're embarrassing yourself," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Picking on him because he's smarter than you? Grow up."
Min-soo's jaw twitched, his cronies shifting uneasily. Sophie's reputation—top student, untouchable, fearless—made her a force even he couldn't ignore. "This ain't your business, Leclerc," he growled, but his voice lacked conviction.
"It is when you're making a fool of yourself in front of everyone," she shot back, crossing her arms. The cafeteria buzzed with stifled laughs, students whispering. Min-soo's face burned, but he backed off, muttering, "You're lucky, Jang. Next time, no one's saving you." He stormed off, his lackeys scrambling to keep up.
Sophie sat across from Taesan, her expression unreadable. "You're making waves," she said, her tone half-curious, half-warning. "First the math thing, now this. You trying to stand out or just bad at staying low?"
Taesan leaned back, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Maybe I'm just done hiding."
Her eyes narrowed, studying him like a puzzle she couldn't quite solve. "You're not like the other kids here. Something's… off." She paused, then shrugged. "Just watch your back. Min-soo doesn't forget."
"Thanks for the save," Taesan said, meaning it. Sophie's interventions were piling up, and he wasn't sure why she bothered. In his past life, she'd barely noticed him. Now, she was a wildcard he hadn't planned for.
"Don't get used to it," she said, standing with her tray. But as she walked away, she glanced back, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze that set Taesan's nerves on edge.
After school, he headed to Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy, the ache in his muscles a constant reminder of his new path. The dojang was alive with the sharp thwack of kicks, the air thick with sweat and focus. Master Choi's voice boomed as Taesan joined the beginners, his borrowed dobok stiff but familiar now. "Jang! Stance wider! You're not dancing, you're fighting!"
Taesan adjusted, his kicks still clumsy but fueled by a burning resolve. Min-soo's threat, Sophie's warning, the weight of his past failures—they all drove him to push harder. He caught sight of Noah Park in the corner, the lanky teen struggling through drills but refusing to quit. Taesan's mind flashed to Noah's future—a tech genius who'd rise to rival Korea's biggest conglomerates. He's raw now, but he's a start.
As the session ended, Taesan lingered, catching his breath. Noah approached, wiping sweat from his face. "You're back," Noah said, almost surprised. "Thought you'd quit after yesterday."
"Not a chance," Taesan said, grinning. "You sticking around too?"
Noah shrugged, a shy smile breaking through. "Guess so. Gotta get better at something."
"Good call," Taesan said, clapping his shoulder. A small connection, but a start. One day, you'll be more than a kid in a dojang.
Walking home under Noryangjin's neon glow, Taesan felt the pieces of his new life clicking into place. Min-soo's threats, Sophie's curiosity, Noah's potential—they were challenges and opportunities, threads in the legend he was weaving. The stars above flickered faintly, and he clenched his fists, his resolve a blade honed sharp.
This high school isn't my prison anymore. It's my proving ground.