The morning air in Noryangjin-dong crackled with the energy of a new day, the scent of sizzling street food weaving through the humid July breeze as Jang Taesan made his way to school. His frayed backpack hung heavy on his shoulders, stuffed not just with textbooks but with the weight of his ambitions. It was his tenth day back in 2008, and the fire of his second chance burned hotter than ever, tempered by the growing clarity of his plan. The CSAT, the stock market, the alliances he was forging—they were no longer distant dreams but steps on a path he was carving with every move. Yet, the shadows of Min-soo Kang's threats, Sophie Leclerc's piercing scrutiny, and the unanswered question of his rebirth lingered, sharp and insistent.
Taesan's muscles throbbed from last night's session at Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy, where he'd landed a side kick that earned a rare nod from Master Choi. The spark of progress was addictive, a taste of the strength he needed to face the battles ahead—physical, academic, and beyond. His notebook, tucked in his bag, was a treasure trove of future knowledge: dates of market surges, tech startups poised to explode, economic shifts he could exploit. But knowledge alone wasn't enough. He needed to act, to take the first tangible step toward his empire.
In literature class, Taesan dissected a poem with a precision that left Ms. Lee blinking in surprise, her usual stern demeanor softening. "Jang, you've been hiding this insight," she said, her tone half-praising, half-curious. Whispers rippled through the room, and Sophie Leclerc, seated by the window, shot him a glance—her sharp eyes narrowing, as if she could sense the anomaly in his sudden brilliance. Taesan kept his expression neutral, but her attention was a growing pressure. He was rewriting his reputation, but every step into the spotlight drew more eyes—some curious, some dangerous.
At lunch, the cafeteria pulsed with its usual chaos—students laughing over trays of tteokbokki, the air thick with the scent of soy and gochujang. Taesan sat alone, his notebook open to a new page: a list of small, actionable steps to leverage his knowledge. Step one was simple but bold—open a savings account to start funneling money, even pocket change, toward future investments. In 2008, he was still a minor, but he could convince his parents to co-sign. The thought of his family—his overworked father, his worried mother—tugged at his chest. In his past life, he'd disappointed them, squandering their sacrifices. This time, he'd make them proud.
A familiar voice broke his focus. "Yo, Taesan, you plotting world domination or what?" Han Do-jin slid into the seat across from him, his tie a mess, his grin as bright as ever. The sight of his friend, alive and oblivious to the tragedy awaiting him in the original timeline, sent a pang through Taesan's heart.
"Just trying to survive this place," Taesan said, closing his notebook with a faint smile. He couldn't share the truth—not the time-travel, not the markets, not the vow to save Do-jin from that future crash. But his friend's presence was a reminder of why he was fighting.
Do-jin leaned forward, stealing a piece of Taesan's kimchi. "You're weird lately, man. Like, scary smart and kinda intense. You sure you're not possessed or something?"
Taesan laughed, deflecting. "Maybe I just got tired of being a slacker. You should try it sometime."
Do-jin snorted, tossing a napkin at him. "Rude. But seriously, you're freaking people out. Even Min-soo's been quiet since that alley thing. You got him spooked."
Taesan's jaw tightened at the mention of Min-soo. The bully's absence today was a reprieve, but his threat—"This isn't over, Jang"—was a ticking bomb. "He'll come back," Taesan said, his voice low. "Guys like him don't let things go."
Do-jin shrugged, unbothered. "Let him try. You're not the same pushover anymore. Keep that up, and you'll be running this school."
The words hit harder than Do-jin knew, fueling Taesan's resolve. He wasn't just fighting for himself—he was fighting for Do-jin, for Emma Kim, for everyone he could protect this time around.
After school, Taesan stopped by a local bank, his heart pounding with purpose. The clerk, a tired woman with a tight bun, raised an eyebrow when he asked about opening a savings account. "You're a bit young, aren't you?" she said, her tone skeptical.
"My parents will co-sign," Taesan said, his voice steady. "I just want to start saving for college." It was a half-truth—he'd save for college, sure, but the real plan was to funnel every won he could scrape together into investments. The 2008 market crash was looming, but Taesan knew the recovery would follow, and he'd be ready to strike.
The clerk handed him a form, and Taesan filled it out with a precision that belied his age, his mind already calculating returns. It was a small step, but it felt monumental—the first concrete move toward his empire. As he left the bank, the weight of his notebook felt lighter, like a weapon finally drawn.
At Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy that evening, Taesan threw himself into training with a ferocity that drew stares. The dojang was alive with the thwack of kicks and the sharp exhales of effort, the air thick with sweat and focus. Master Choi's voice boomed as Taesan practiced a hapkido wrist lock, his movements sharper now, less clumsy. "Jang! Good! Now faster!" Choi barked, his stern face betraying a flicker of approval.
Across the mat, Noah Park struggled through a roundhouse kick, his lanky frame steadier than before. Taesan caught his eye, offering a nod, and Noah returned it, his shy smile breaking through the exhaustion. Their bond was growing, a quiet alliance Taesan was nurturing. Noah's future as a tech genius was a card he'd play when the time came, but for now, he was just a kid pushing through the same grind.
Choi paired Taesan with Hye-jun for sparring, the wiry senior grinning as they squared off. "Let's see if you've got more than one trick, Jang," Hye-jun teased, lunging with a quick jab.
Taesan blocked, his reflexes honed by days of drills, and countered with a low kick that grazed Hye-jun's thigh. "Getting there," Taesan said, his voice steady, a spark of confidence igniting. Hye-jun laughed, impressed, and the spar continued, each move a step toward the fighter Taesan was becoming.
As the session ended, Noah approached, wiping his brow. "You're relentless," he said, his tone half-admiring, half-awed. "How do you keep going like that?"
Taesan grinned, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "Got a lot to prove, Noah. You're not slacking either. We'll both get there."
Noah's eyes lit up, a flicker of determination breaking through. "Yeah. Thanks, man. Feels good to have someone pushing me."
Choi's voice cut through. "Jang! Park! Save the pep talk for later!" They bowed, sharing a quick laugh, and Taesan felt the pieces of his plan solidifying—Do-jin's trust, Noah's potential, Choi's guidance, the bank account. Small steps, but each one brought him closer to his goal.
Walking home under Noryangjin's neon glow, the stars faint against the city's electric haze, Taesan felt the weight of his first step—a bank account, a seed planted for his empire. Min-soo's threat, Sophie's scrutiny, the mystery of his return—they were challenges he'd face head-on. He clenched his fists, his lips curling into a determined grin.
The first step is done. Now the real climb begins.