Morning always arrived earlier than the clock in this village. Even before the sun fully rose, the sound of waves was already knocking against the windows.
I woke up not because of a dream, but because of the radio.
My father's old radio its color faded, its antenna wrapped with wire was playing softly in the kitchen. A male announcer's voice came through, rough and cracked, mixed with static. Then a song followed. A foreign one. I didn't know where it came from. It wasn't Korean. And it wasn't something I remembered hearing in my previous life.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the cold cement floor.
It felt strange.
In my first life, sounds like this never mattered to me. I would have covered my ears, gone back to sleep, or complained. The outside world always felt too far away for someone like me.
But now, the sound felt different.
I walked quietly into the kitchen. My mother was cutting vegetables, her movements calm and unhurried. My father sat on a wooden chair, sipping black coffee, his eyes tired but peaceful.
The radio spoke again.
Foreign words. A steady rhythm. I didn't understand the meaning, but the rise and fall of the sounds made me want to keep listening.
"What language is that?" I asked softly.
My father glanced over.
"Not sure. Overseas. Sometimes English, sometimes Japanese. The signal drifts here now and then."
I nodded and didn't ask anything else.
I sat down and listened.
I didn't understand a single sentence, but I didn't turn the radio off.
On the way to school, my bag felt heavier than usual. Not because of books, but because of my thoughts. The dirt road was the same as always. Old houses. Children running past, laughing.
Everything was familiar.
And that was exactly why my chest felt a little tight.
The world hasn't changed, I thought.
Only I have.
In class, chalk screeched against the board. The teacher explained lessons I had once heard and forgotten in my previous life. I didn't write more notes than anyone else. I didn't raise my hand to answer questions.
I just watched.
The way the teacher explained.
The way my classmates thought.
The way time moved slowly, but without stopping.
During break, my friend handed me a piece of bread.
"You've been quiet lately," he said casually, though his eyes were curious.
I smiled faintly.
"I'm just tired."
It wasn't a lie.
I was tired from carrying a future I couldn't explain to anyone.
After school, I passed the kitchen again. The radio was still there, playing more softly now. A different song. A different language.
I stood in front of it for a long moment.
There was no great determination.
No ambition to master the world.
Just one simple thought circling in my head.
If I listen a little longer, will I regret less later?
I turned the volume knob slightly higher.
And for the first time since the regression happened, I felt just a little that my life wasn't completely still.