"To us!"
With the loud cheer, beer glasses clinked noisily against each other.
I forced a smile, lifting the corners of my mouth as I looked around at the faces of my fellow 26th-batch members sitting across from me.
Sunshine.
Ryan.
Suji…
The nicknames I'd heard during introductions echoed awkwardly in my ears.
They were already speaking casually, chatting about school and work, growing close at a speed that felt almost unreal.
Sunshine, twenty-five, was still a senior in college.
Ryan, twenty-eight, worked at an IT company in Guro Digital Complex—back when Pangyo didn't even exist yet.
Their conversations overflowed with youth and expectations for the future.
I couldn't join in.
To someone who was forty-nine inside, their worries and laughter felt impossibly distant.
Like a ghost, I quietly sipped my beer.
The blaring music was almost a relief—it masked the awkwardness of my silence.
On the central floor, senior members continued their dazzling dances.
I stared at them blankly.
Would I ever be able to dance like that, smiling so naturally?
No—before that… could I even become friends with people like them?
Loneliness rose up and clogged my throat.
I should have stayed at the library.
Or gone back to my studio and read economic news alone.
Regret was just beginning to creep in when—
"Um… excuse me. You're Sseok-hofil, right?"
I turned at the unfamiliar voice.
A man stood beside me, wearing an awkward smile.
He looked about my age—round face, round glasses. Overall, he had the harmless look of a small woodland animal. A squirrel. An acorn.
He was one of the 26th batch too. I vaguely remembered him from introductions.
"Ah… yes. That's me."
"May I sit here?"
"Of course."
He carefully took the seat beside me and lifted his beer glass.
"I go by Dotori."
"Ah… I'm Sseok-hofil."
We exchanged names—awkwardly—and clinked glasses—more awkwardly.
Silence followed.
Unsure what to say, I grabbed a handful of popcorn and chewed.
He was the one who broke the silence.
"So… are you enjoying the dancing?"
"Huh? Ah… I'm not sure yet. My body doesn't really do what I tell it to."
"Same here. I'm the king of uncoordinated people… Ginger-noona really tore into me during practice."
He scratched his head, laughing sheepishly.
Before I realized it, I let out a small chuckle.
"Same. I think I stepped on my partner's foot at least twenty times."
"Haha, twenty's nothing. I passed thirty. I'm pretty sure my partner's foot didn't survive."
It was a dumb joke—but it loosened the stiff air between us.
Seeing my empty glass, he picked up the beer pitcher and filled it.
"Have a drink. Dancing's hard, but drinking's easy, right?"
For the first time that night, I smiled genuinely.
"I like the way you think."
We clinked glasses again.
This time, the sound was lighter—brighter.
"Ahhh."
Dotori took a gulp and sighed like the weight of the world had lifted.
His expression was so sincere that I couldn't help smiling along.
"If you don't mind me asking… how old are you? I'm thirty-one."
I asked first.
In Korea, checking age was the fastest way to break down walls.
Dotori's eyes widened.
"What? Seriously? Me too! Born in '77!"
"Huh? Same here."
"No way. That's insane."
We stared at each other, amazed.
Same age.
Just that alone made the invisible wall between us crumble.
"Man—nice to meet you, friend!"
Dotori suddenly patted my shoulder and dropped honorifics.
I didn't mind at all.
I welcomed it.
Ever since regressing, I'd been alone—carrying forty-nine years of memories, unable to share them with anyone.
Hearing the word friend felt unexpectedly warm.
"Yeah. Nice to meet you… friend."
"Sseok-hofil my ass. I'm just gonna call you Cheol-min. I'm Lee Jin-woo."
"Alright, Jin-woo."
We exchanged real names and filled our glasses again.
The awkwardness was gone.
"So how'd you end up here, Cheol-min? Sick of company life like me?"
Jin-woo asked.
"Something like that. I just… wanted to try something new."
I dodged the truth about being unemployed.
"Yeah, that's exactly it for me. Work, home. Work, home. Same shuttle bus every day. I thought—if I keep this up, I'll turn into a full-blown ajusshi. So I signed up, ready to get chewed out by my wife."
"Wife? You're married?"
"Of course! Two kids too. Both boys. Six and four. Absolute home-wreckers."
I was genuinely surprised.
Same age as me, yet already a married man with two kids.
Eighteen years ago, I hadn't even managed a proper relationship.
"That's impressive. I'm still single."
"Impressive? Try it sometime. You won't know if you're living or fighting a war. Hahaha."
He laughed heartily—but beneath it, I felt the weight of responsibility.
I saw myself, eighteen years into the future.
And for a moment, I felt both kinship and pity.
"Still… it's nice. Having someone waiting for you at home."
At my words, Jin-woo stared into his glass.
"It is. But sometimes… I just want to run away. To exist as just me, without thinking. That's why I came here."
We grew close not over swing dance—but over the shared burden of being men.
After emptying two pitchers, Jin-woo suddenly asked in a serious tone:
"Hey, Cheol-min."
"What."
"What's your dream?"
Dream.
It was a word I hadn't used in a long time.
At forty-nine, my dream had been simple—my family surviving another day, Seo-yoon growing up healthy.
But at thirty-one…
After a moment, I answered honestly.
"A rich unemployed guy."
Jin-woo burst out laughing.
"Hey! That's my dream! You stealing it or what?"
"Yours too?"
"Of course! Every office worker's dream. Own a building, collect rent, fish during the day, drink at night—damn."
He closed his eyes, savoring the thought.
It was so pure that I laughed along.
"Being a landlord's nice. I just want to live without worrying about money. Toss things into a cart without checking prices. Not stress about tuition. Buy my wife a luxury bag without hesitation. That's my dream."
I had no words.
It was the very dream I'd wanted—but never achieved—eighteen years later.
We clinked glasses again, united by the dream of being "rich and unemployed."
"But beer's kinda weak for this talk. Serious conversation needs soju."
Jin-woo glanced toward the bar.
"They sell it here?"
"They do, but mixing with kids feels weird. Let's do it our way."
He winked.
I understood instantly.
Second round.
The sacred refuge of ajusshis.
"Sounds good. You know a place?"
"Yeah. There's a pojangmacha nearby—killer gopchang. Soju goes down like water."
Gopchang and soju.
The eternal soul food of middle-aged men.
I nodded.
Amid the noise and youth, my focus was entirely on Jin-woo.
For the first time since regressing, I wasn't lonely.
Just having someone who understood me—laughed at my jokes—made 2007 feel warmer.
We made vague excuses and quietly stood up.
"Where are you going, hyungs?"
Ryan asked.
Jin-woo patted his shoulder.
"To the adult world."
We left the rookie party behind, stepping out of Boogie Woogie for our real after-party.
Outside, the night air of Sillim greeted us.
Freed from the underground noise and heat, my head felt clearer.
The pojangmacha Jin-woo led me to sat in a shabby alley near Sundae Town.
Plastic tarp walls. Exactly what you'd expect.
Inside, the smell of sizzling gopchang hit hard.
"Auntie! Two gopchang and a soju!"
We sat across from each other at a plastic table.
Faint traces of previous drinkers lingered.
Soon, a cold bottle of soju arrived with sliced cucumbers and carrots.
Jin-woo popped the cap expertly.
"Alright, friend. Now it really starts."
He filled my glass.
Watching the clear liquid slosh, my mouth watered.
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"For talking to me."
He stared at me, then snorted.
"Idiot. I would've suffocated in there without you. A twenty-five-year-old talking about internet novels—how was I supposed to keep up?"
"Haha. Same here."
We laughed.
The gopchang arrived, sizzling.
We clinked glasses and dug in.
Chewy gopchang, spicy sauce, crisp vegetables—washed down with bitter soju.
"Khh… damn."
The taste was exactly as my tongue remembered—eighteen years later.
Three bottles in, Jin-woo asked, slightly drunk:
"But seriously… what are you really?"
"Just unemployed."
"No, not that. You're… weird."
"Weird how."
"Your eyes. Like my department head's. Someone who's been through hell. Not thirty-one-year-old eyes."
My heart dropped.
The soju glass trembled.
Damn it. Was I exposed?
No matter the body, I couldn't hide eighteen years of life.
I played it off.
"I just look old."
"Bullshit. Something happened, didn't it? You quit suddenly too."
"…."
"If you don't wanna say it's fine. I'm just worried—as a friend."
I couldn't avoid his gaze.
After hesitating, I finally spoke.
"Honestly… I almost died in a traffic accident recently."