Alex was incredibly bored.
Could anyone blame him? He'd been sitting on that bench for three hours, doing nothing but listening to the few songs he had downloaded on his phone and staring blankly at the park.
He had tried to leave multiple times, only to black out and return to the bench the moment his vision cleared.
But Alex wasn't repeating the same action like some insane idiot—he was experimenting, trying to understand the blackouts.
So far, he'd learned that he could get as far as four blocks in any direction. Past that, and the world would flicker out, dumping him right back at square one.
An invisible birdcage. That's what it felt like.
"You again!"
Alex didn't need to look up. That smug, self-important voice belonged to a man who dressed elegantly and acted like a player—definitely the kind of guy you couldn't mistake if you saw him twice in the same day.
This time, though, the woman clinging to his arm wasn't the same as before. She looked shy, refined, and fragile, hiding her face in his sleeve.
"Tristan… is he one of those guys that wants to…?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with nervousness.
"Yes," Tristan said smoothly, hugging her closer. "He's definitely with a newspaper, trying to dig up dirt on me. Following me on a date with my beloved… truly despicable."
Alex sighed. Same guy, different girl.
He didn't have the energy to deal with this cheating actor playing the same act with different women.
"I'm telling you, back off or I'll fight you! For the sake of my love with this wonderful girl, I'll risk my career if I have to!" Tristan declared dramatically.
"Oh, Tristan, no! I don't want you to lose everything for me!" the girl cried, hugging his back.
Alex rubbed his temples. He hadn't said a word to them, and yet the performance rolled on without pause, as if Tristan would keep talking even if no one was there.
When the couple leaned closer to one another, Alex turned and jogged off.
"Don't run away, you coward!" Tristan's voice chased him, but Alex was already gone.
What kind of curse is this?
Was he a spirit tied to this park? Doomed to remain here forever? To spend eternity chained to a hard, uncomfortable bench?
So now he was not only an unemployed, kissless virgin living with his parents, but possibly a homeless ghost trapped in a park?
Truly, it had to be a curse.
Sitting further inside the park, away from that cursed bench, Alex resigned himself to watching some illegally downloaded anime.
But he couldn't bring himself to press play. Not with this hanging over him.
Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he decided to walk. Maybe clearing his head would spark an idea, though he doubted it.
Worse still, it was school dismissal time. Children began flooding through the park on their way home.
If a man like him—bad posture, bad looks, bad reputation—lingered here at the same time as kids, he'd be labeled as something he wasn't. Wouldn't be the first time, he was wrongfully labeled something he wasn't. Although in the past, it was for a completely different thing.
"Excuse me?"
The voice behind him was soft.
Alex stiffened, worried it was an officer ready to interrogate him. But the gentleness in the tone eased his paranoia a little.
He turned.
The man who had called out was in his early twenties, brown-haired and dressed in the same old-fashioned style everyone here seemed to wear—the kind of outfits his grandparents would've worn in their youth.
He looked oddly familiar, though Alex was sure he had never seen him before. Still, the feeling wouldn't go away.
"What?" Alex asked flatly, more annoyed than curious.
The man flinched under Alex's glare. Was it because of Alex's naturally unpleasant face, or the sharp stare he'd perfected after years of harassment? Either way, the guy had to steady himself before speaking again.
"Y-you… you saw him too, right?"
Alex stayed silent.
The man swallowed, then pushed through his nerves. "That man, Tristan. You saw him, right?"
"The two-timing pretty boy?" Alex asked.
The man's face lit up. "So you know how despicable he is."
Alex nodded reluctantly.
"As you may know, Tristan is a famous actor. He's starred in movies like Barely Angels, Rebel's Way, and Silver Bullet. He's become a sensation because of his looks."
Those titles sounded like movies his mom or grandmother would've watched. Alex frowned.
"You see… my childhood friend fell for his sweet talk," the man continued, his voice tight with frustration. "I know he's a cheating bastard, but she won't believe me."
"Is your childhood friend a short, shy girl with brown hair?" Alex asked.
The man shook his head.
"Then is she…" Alex coughed, making a hand gesture that clearly meant large chest. "…woman with blonde hair?"
"She does have a big chest, but she isn't blonde," the man admitted quickly—then stopped, eyes going wide. "Wait, he's three-timing!?"
"So slow!" Alex snapped. "I thought you knew already!"
"Y-yeah, yeah, sorry…" The man rubbed his forehead, overwhelmed by the new revelation.
"Can we… talk somewhere else?" he asked after a moment. "I need to sit down."
Alex was about to agree, then remembered he couldn't leave too far away from the park. "Not too far. I've got business here."
The man didn't understand, but nodded anyway.
They ended up at a nearby restaurant.
As they sat down at an outdoor table, Alex caught sight of an old tube TV displayed in a shop window. He almost pressed his face to the glass.
"You like TVs?" the man asked, amused. "That's a new model."
Alex almost choked.
New? That chunky CRT was perfect for playing old games, but calling it new was absurd.
"Look at this," the man said proudly, pulling a brick of a cell phone with a tiny green screen from his pocket. "I worked so hard to buy this model. Technology is amazing, isn't it?"
"…It sure is," Alex muttered. He did agree, in a way. Seeing how much things had changed in a few decades really was amazing.
Which only confirmed what Alex had suspected for a while now.
He was in the past.
At first, he hadn't wanted to believe it. But the old-fashioned clothes, the ancient tech, the strange looks he kept getting—it all added up.
"Sorry for the late introduction," the man said, extending his hand. "I'm Hernan."
"Alex."
They shook hands.
"So, your childhood friend is—" Alex cut himself off. "Sorry, I was going to phrase that badly."
"It's fine," Hernan said with a bitter smile. "She's such an idiot. No matter how many times I warn her, she can't see past him. She's captivated."
"It must be hard, watching your childhood friend fall for someone like that."
"It is. Even when she treats me harshly over it, I can't abandon her. We've been friends too long." Hernan's gaze grew distant, nostalgic.
"I'm sure she'll understand eventually."
"That's why I want your help, Alex. I want us to find him and confront him about the girls he's stringing along."
"What's the plan?" Alex asked.
"I was going to buy a disposable camera and catch him cheating on her. But… good cameras are so expensive."
"I have an alternative."
Alex pulled out his phone. He honestly didn't care much about how changing the past could affect the future. He was the kind of guy who'd time-travel to the twelfth century just to hand a starving farmer's kid a bag of artificially flavored cheese chips, just to see their reaction.
Still, once the phone was in his hand, he realized he needed an excuse. He wasn't ready to reveal too much. There was a line, even for him.
"It's got a great camera. Don't worry—your childhood friend will believe it a hundred percent once she sees the pictures." Alex held the phone up proudly.
Hernan's jaw dropped. The device was unlike anything he'd ever seen. But what amazed him most were the photos—clear, sharp, and unbelievably realistic.
"Wow… this is incredible."
"It's a self-made camera. Built it from scrap metal I found lying around," Alex lied, the words tumbling out before he thought them through. Even he realized it sounded ridiculous.
"Actually… my parents bought it for me," he admitted after a pause, cheeks heating with embarrassment. Some genius plan that was.
"I knew you looked… rich," Hernan said carefully, eyeing Alex's clothes.
That pause. That pause! Alex bristled. Say it, why don't you. Poor man cosplaying as rich. I dare you.
"Anyway," Hernan said, standing abruptly, "let's find him and take the picture."
And so the operation began—only to end immediately.
Because there he was. Tristan. Same smug grin, same suit, and yet another woman clinging to his arm. This one was petite, dark-haired, and about Hernan's age.
"Clara!" Hernan's voice cracked with anger.
"Hernan?!" The girl stiffened, clutching Tristan's arm even tighter. "Don't tell me… you came here to ruin my date?"
Alex couldn't help noticing Tristan really had a type—girls who treated his arm like a lifeline.
"Who is he, Clarin?" Tristan's face twisted with irritation.
"I'm sorry, Tristan. He's… a friend. I didn't tell you because he'd only upset you. He claims you're cheating on me."
"Cheating?!" Tristan pulled Clara into his chest protectively. "Clarin, that's absurd. I love you and only you. I'd risk my career just to be with you."
Those are some words Alex is familiarizing with.
"Tristan…"
"If a so-called friend treats you and the person you love like this, then he's not your friend at all," Tristan spat, glaring at Hernan with venom.
"Clara, don't believe him! He's lying to you!" Hernan pleaded.
"Stop!" she shouted. "Tristan isn't like that! He loves me so much he's risking everything to date me."
"Clara, I even have witnesses!" Hernan pointed straight at Alex.
Tristan stiffened.
"You!"
"Tristan?" Clara blinked up at him.
"Clarin, he's a stalker! A sleazy reporter! They're working together to ruin me. Can't I enjoy a date with my precious girlfriend in peace?" His performance was flawless, voice dripping with righteous anger.
"Hernan… I can't believe you'd stoop this low. If we're really friends, you'll accept that I love him."
"Clara, listen to yourself! Do you really think I'd ever want to hurt you? After everything we've been through together?"
"I… I don't know anymore. This is my first boyfriend, and you're acting like this… I don't think I can trust you."
"Let's go, Clarin." Tristan guided her away, his expression smug.
Hernan stood frozen, fists clenched. His chest heaved with anger, but no words came out. He only clicked his tongue and turned away.
"I don't even know why I'm doing this," he muttered bitterly.
Alex wasn't exactly a wellspring of comfort in times like this. But he did the only thing he could think of.
He rested a hand on Hernan's shoulder.
Gave it a couple of awkward pats.