Air rushed violently into his lungs.
Ethan jerked upright, gasping as if he had been submerged underwater for far too long. His heart slammed against his ribcage—fast, strong, alive.
"What—?"
Bright sunlight poured through a window, warm and blinding. The smell wasn't alcohol or dust.
It was clean.
New.
He froze.
The bed beneath him was narrow. Unfamiliar. His hands clenched the sheets, feeling the texture clearly—too clearly.
Slowly, he turned his head.
A cramped dorm room.
A small desk cluttered with notebooks.
A wardrobe with peeling paint.
A poster on the wall he hadn't seen in decades.
"No… this isn't possible."
He stood. No dizziness. No weakness.
His body moved exactly as he commanded it to.
That alone sent a chill through him.
He walked toward the mirror.
The man staring back was young.
Sharp eyes.
Smooth skin.
A face untouched by resignation.
Nineteen-year-old Ethan Cole.
"This has to be a dream."
He touched his face.
Warm. Solid.
He pinched his arm.
Pain flared.
"This isn't a dream…"
His breathing grew uneven as he grabbed his phone from the desk.
The screen lit up.
Monday, September 3rd, 2024
08:12 AM
The first day of university.
The very beginning of everything he had ruined.
Ethan sat down slowly.
"I regressed…"
Time itself had been reversed.
No explanation.
No system.
No divine voice.
Just reality—rewound.
Memories flooded back: failed investments, missed chances, people who would rise, people who would fall.
He remembered everything.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"So this is my second chance."
Outside, freshmen laughed in the hallway—ignorant of how cruel life could be.
Ethan leaned back, eyes steady.
"I won't waste it," he said calmly.
"Not again."