Seoul International Hospital was alive with movement that stormy night.
Thunder grumbled above the city, heavy rain streaking down the tall glass windows like melting silver. Inside, the corridors pulsed with footsteps and quiet orders, the hum of fluorescent lights blending with the distant wail of sirens
In the emergency room, the air was thick with urgency. The scent of disinfectant barely masked the smell of blood and rain. Doctors and nurses moved in hurried rhythm, their voices clipped, their expressions tight with exhaustion.
"Two incoming, critical condition!" one nurse shouted as the doors burst open.
Two stretchers rolled in, wheels screeching against the wet floor. Both boys were unconscious, pale, their bodies marked by the violence of impact.
"Same accident?" asked the attending physician without looking up.
"No, different locations—different cases," the nurse answered quickly, attaching an oxygen mask.
The doctor frowned, pressing the defibrillator pads to one chest. "Clear!"
A shock rippled through the patient's body, his frame arching slightly before falling still again. Another doctor mirrored his movements at the next bed.
The machines beeped erratically, lights flickering in sync with faltering heartbeats. The tension was suffocating. The staff exchanged wordless glances—they had seen this rhythm before, the fading fight of life against time.
Two nurses stood near the foot of the beds, hearts sinking. They didn't need to speak to understand each other's thoughts. Both young, both beyond saving.
Then—a single, drawn-out tone filled the room. One machine flatlined.
A second later, so did the other.
The doctors froze for a moment, their faces dim under the harsh lights. Then, with quiet resignation, one of them said, "Time of death—11:59 p.m."
The words hung in the air, heavier than the thunder outside.
The nurse recorded the time in trembling handwriting. The doctors moved on, rushing to the next emergency. Only she remained, staring at the two still figures. They looked so young—maybe twenty, maybe less.
She glanced at the name tags on the charts clipped to the beds.
Seo Jaehan.
Lee Dohyun.
"Different accidents, same hour," she whispered to herself. "Fate can be cruel."
Her eyes softened as she stepped closer, adjusting the white sheets that had slipped from one of their shoulders. She didn't notice that their arms, hanging loosely over the edge of their beds, had brushed together.
Their pinkies touched.
And in that silent moment, when the storm outside reached its loudest roar—
The monitors flickered.
[Alert]
[System Initialization…]
[Second chance detected.]
[Sign a contract to be granted a new life.]
[Accept] [Decline]
Lee Dohyun woke to a throbbing pain splitting through his head.
His body felt heavy, his limbs sore, as if every bone inside him had been shaken loose. For a moment, he couldn't move—couldn't even part his lips to speak.
What… is this? What happened?
His thoughts came slow and foggy. He raised a trembling hand to his forehead and winced at the dull ache that followed.
Did I fall asleep?
Memory came to him in fragments. The faint hum of a convenience store refrigerator. The smell of instant noodles and cheap detergent. The rain tapping against the glass doors.
He had been working late—again. The night shift paid better, and he needed the money. He remembered closing up, stepping into the rain with his umbrella.
Then—
Headlights.
A car, speeding too fast.
A flash of white.
Right… I remember now. That car… Did it hit me?
His breath quickened. Did I—die?
Panic began to rise in his chest. He forced his eyes open against the harsh light above.
The ceiling came into view—cracked, discolored, the plaster brown with age. A dim yellow bulb swung from a single cord, flickering in the stale air.
This wasn't a hospital.
And it certainly wasn't his apartment.
He pushed himself upright slowly, muscles trembling with the effort. Am I dreaming? he wondered. Or did I survive somehow?
Then—
A low sound broke the silence. A groan, deep and rough.
Dohyun froze, turning his head toward the noise.
Someone else was there.
And when his eyes focused, his breath caught.
The man beside him looked unreal—tall, broad-shouldered, every line of him carved like stone. His black hair was tousled, strands falling over his forehead, and his lashes cast faint shadows against his pale skin.
Dohyun blinked. Once. Twice.
No… that's not a god. That's—
A very real, very human man.
Still, it was hard to look away. The stranger's presence was too striking, almost overwhelming in this small, dim room.
Did he… bring me here? Dohyun thought, dazed. Was he the one who hit me with the car?
Before he could open his mouth, the god-like stranger opened his eyes. Grey eyes? Really? And they were looking straight at Lee Dohyun.
He blinked. And Lee Dohyun blinked back.
The stranger frowned. Lee Dohyun frowned in response, without thinking.
They both tilted their heads at the same time.
Then—
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?"