The rain had been falling since morning.Not the soft kind that soothed the soul, but the kind that drowned the city in gray.Buildings stood like ghosts beneath the storm, and the streetlights flickered with tired energy — as if even they were done with this world.
Ren walked along the cracked sidewalk with his head low, his breath turning to mist in the cold air.He carried a small plastic bag from the convenience store — inside were two rice balls, slightly stale, and a discounted cup of noodles. Dinner.His jacket was thin, his shoes worn down to the fabric, and his socks soaked through.
He didn't complain.He never did.
There wasn't anyone to hear him anyway.
Ren had grown up in an orphanage on the city's outskirts — a small, rundown building with broken windows and more children than beds.He remembered the noise, the laughter, the smell of old blankets.He remembered holding the younger ones when they cried during storms.
But that was a long time ago.The orphanage shut down when he was ten. The funding stopped, the caretakers left, and the kids scattered.Some were adopted.Some weren't.
Ren was one of the ones left behind.
From then on, life became simple:
Work to eat.
Eat to live.
Live to work again.
He did every job he could find — delivery, cleaning, construction — anything that paid.He saved every coin he could, not for dreams, but for survival.
There were times he envied others. The warmth of families walking under umbrellas, the laughter of friends in cafés.He would watch them through the rain-streaked glass and wonder — what does it feel like to be needed by someone?
But he never lingered on that thought.It hurt too much.
That night, the city felt emptier than usual.The wind howled between narrow alleys, carrying scraps of newspaper and the faint smell of oil and asphalt.Ren's shift had ended late. The manager had tossed him a half-empty box of expired food, saying, "You can take that if you want."He had smiled weakly, bowed, and left.
As he walked through the storm, the world blurred into streaks of light and rain.The sound of thunder rolled across the sky, and for a moment, he thought — maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the world just… stopped.He wasn't suicidal. Just tired.
Tired of being unseen.
He muttered to himself, half-joking, "If there's another life after this one, I hope I get a family there."
Then he heard it.
A small voice.
"—Help!—"
Ren turned sharply.Through the rain, he saw two small figures — a boy and a girl — standing in the middle of the road. Their umbrella had blown away, and they were frozen, staring up the hill.
Headlights flashed in the distance.
A truck.
Brakes screaming against the wet asphalt.
Ren's body moved before his mind could catch up.
He threw his bag aside and sprinted.
The world became soundless, the pounding rain drowned by the hammering of his own heart.His feet splashed through puddles. The wind tore at his hood.Time slowed as the truck grew larger, closer.
"Move!" he shouted, voice hoarse.
The kids didn't react — too scared to move.
So he did the only thing he could.
He threw himself forward and shoved them with everything he had.
The girl fell backward, the boy stumbled after her.Ren barely caught a glimpse of their faces — terrified, alive — before white light filled his eyes.
Then came the impact.
A deafening crash.
A flash of pain so sharp it didn't even feel real.
And then… nothing.
Silence.
No rain.
No sound.
No pain.
Ren blinked and found himself standing in a field of light — endless, soft, and warm.The storm was gone. The cold, the hunger, the loneliness — gone.
He looked down at his hands. They were clean. Whole.He was wearing the same clothes, but they no longer clung to his body.He felt lighter, freer, as if the weight of all his years had been lifted.
"Where… am I?" he whispered.
A gentle voice answered from nowhere and everywhere.
"You gave your life to save others. A rare act, from one who had so little."
Ren turned, but there was no one there. Just light.
"You were never given love, yet you gave it freely. That is why your soul cannot fade here."
He lowered his head. "If this is heaven… I don't think I belong here."
"It is not heaven, nor hell. It is a place between. But another world needs you — one where your heart can still make a difference."
He hesitated. "Another world?"
"Yes. A world where seven children cry for a brother who will never return. The one who bore the same heart as you has fallen. If you wish, you may take his place."
Ren's chest tightened. "You mean… I'd live again?"
"You will live as him. His memories will guide you, but your soul will remain your own."
He was quiet for a long moment.Then, he smiled faintly — not out of joy, but peace.
"Seven children, huh? Sounds… noisy."
The light pulsed gently, almost like laughter.
"Then go, Guardian. Be what you always longed to be."
Ren closed his eyes.For the first time in his life, he felt like he mattered.He whispered softly into the light,
"If they need me… then I'll go."
The light grew brighter, wrapping around him until it became everything.
And in the next heartbeat, the lonely orphan named Ren vanished from his world—carried by the light into another life.