​I have been working on this book for so long with so many drafts this is the final version I hope everyone likes it ♡♡

WARNING ⚠️ This chapter contains disturbing themes. You are free to skip it.

​It was unexpected. What were the odds that snow would fall on New Year's Eve?

​He reached out, letting the flakes settle gently against his palm. As he exhaled, a thick mist formed in the air before him. He wore only soft silk pajamas,expensive, certainly, but no match for the biting winter air. He didn't seem to mind the cold, though; he simply watched the snow fall.

​Unlike everyone else, he was alone. He wasn't sure why he'd chosen solitude tonight. His mother and sister had called numerous times, urging him to come home,to face the uncertainty of the world together.

​It was meant to be the beginning of a new era, and the world was terrified. Doomsday theories had spread like wildfire, clinging to people's hearts. Families had sold off their investments and huddled together to await whatever the new millennium brought. Some remained hopeful that the rumors were only whispers,that the new year would be just like the rest,but even the doubters harbored a secret, cold fear that the end was truly coming.

​So, why was he here in his new apartment, alone and hollow? He felt his chest tighten as the seconds bled into minutes, drawing closer to the awaited hour. Inside, a grainy TV aired the festivities; crowds were huddled together, breath held in anticipation.

​He caught his own breath, wishing, despite himself, that he wasn't alone. He tightened his grip on the balcony railing and looked down at his feet. He wasn't even wearing shoes.

​His toes were as frozen as the rest of his body. He wondered what the headlines would say tomorrow. Reaching for a pack he'd left on the balcony table, he pulled out a cigarette. He lit it, inhaling the nicotine slowly before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the frost.

​He didn't smoke much anymore; he had tried to quit. But tonight felt like the perfect time to stop trying. At least the ember gave him a flicker of warmth.

​Below, his eyes caught a couple holding hands as they walked along the apartment complex's pavement, sharing a private laugh. They looked so deeply in love that he felt a sharp tinge of jealousy seep into his skin. He followed them with his gaze until they disappeared around a corner.

​He let out a dry huff and reached for another cigarette. It was a special occasion, after all. His lover had begged him to stop smoking; that was the only reason he'd ever cut back. As her voice echoed in his mind, a sour taste rose in his throat.

​He lit the second cigarette and leaned heavily against the railing.

​Then, without warning, he began to cough. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, tumbling into the dark. He gripped the metal railing as his chest constricted, his vision blurring into a haze of gray.

​He felt his weight shift, his body tilting forward just as the first fireworks thundered in the sky. A new year had arrived, yet here he was, plummeting from the high-rise.

​He didn't seem to be in shock. As he looked back up at the balcony receding into the distance, his eyes held nothing but betrayal and pain.

​His head struck the frozen surface of the swimming pool first. Blood bloomed across the ice before the sub-zero water engulfed him, and his eyes finally gave in to the dark abyss.

​Chapter 1: The Stranger in the Glass

​The beeping came first, followed by the hushed, hurried whispers of strangers. Sunghoon let out a strained breath, his head rolling weakly to the side.

​His entire body was a map of soreness. He could still feel the phantom touch of the ice engulfing him, even though he was clearly lying on a firm, sturdy surface. Every breath felt like a labor; his chest tightened with a sharp, stinging pain every time he drew air into his lungs.

​His fingers drifted, clutching the coarse hospital sheets as he fought to pry his leaden eyelids open.

​The rhythmic beep-beep-beep grew louder, making him feel disoriented and nauseous. At first, he thought it was his alarm. Perhaps the balcony, the fall, and the freezing water had all been a fever dream,a nightmare brought on by the stress of his career.

​He couldn't remember the details.

Everything was a blur of nicotine clouds one moment and a plunge into a dark, icy abyss the next. He had never actually used the swimming pool at his apartment complex. He'd always intended to,when he had the time. But time was a luxury he didn't have, not with scripts piling up on his desk and his dreams of launching an entertainment empire. He had only ever looked at the water from the height of his balcony.

​I should wake up and turn off that alarm, he thought. His mother or sister were likely already in the apartment. His sister was notorious for using her spare key to sneak in when she wanted to skip school or "borrow" money. And his mother... the thought of her cleaning his kitchen and leaving behind a fresh batch of food warmed his aching heart.

​He felt a sudden pressure on his hand,someone checking his vitals.

​"He seems to be doing well," a strange voice murmured nearby.

​"Why isn't he waking up, though? It's been days," another voice asked, thick with concern.

​Sunghoon wondered who they were talking about. Days? He didn't recognize these people. Maybe they were paramedics? Maybe his nightmare was real, and he'd been rushed to the emergency room?

​He groaned, his head lolling to the side. Immediately, a hand settled on his wrist. It was soft, careful, and strangely intimate.

​His eyes finally fluttered open, but the overhead fluorescent lights were so blinding he had to wince and shut them again.

​"You're awake!" a voice exclaimed in a rush of relief.

​Why did this stranger sound so desperate? He tried to open his eyes again as the presence left his side, the warmth of the hand replaced by a sudden chill. But the void didn't last long; several pairs of feet shuffled into the room. Hands gripped his face, prying his eyelids upward as a penlight seared into his pupils.

​He tried to pull away, but the voices became a roar in his ears. The headache intensified until it was a physical weight, dragging him back down into a dark, silent oblivion.

​When he woke a second time, the lights were dim and bearable. Night had fallen.

​He was in a ward,a shared one. Four beds, separated by thin, flimsy curtains. This realization sent a spark of confusion through him. Every time Sunghoon went to the hospital, he was sequestered in a private suite to hide from the paparazzi. Why am I in a general ward?

​His bladder was heavy, a dull ache that forced him to move. To his relief, his toes and fingers responded. He hadn't been paralyzed by the fall.

​He slid his feet into the plastic flip-flops by the bed. Grabbing the IV stand for support, he began the long, silent trek toward the bathroom, careful not to wake the patient in the next bed.

​Inside, he relieved himself with a groan of pure physical necessity. He flushed the toilet and turned toward the sink, his mind already drifting toward how hungry he was.

​Then, as he reached for the tap, he caught his reflection.

​Sunghoon froze.

​The man staring back at him was a stranger.

​He looked to be in his early twenties, with dark hair that flowed past his shoulders. His lip was split, and a jagged purple bruise marred his left cheek. He looked like he'd been in a brutal street fight.

​Sunghoon stood paralyzed on the cold tile, his breath hitching. This wasn't the face that had graced a hundred movie posters. This wasn't the face his mother kissed.

​He stumbled back, his spine hitting the bathroom partition. This isn't me. He lifted a trembling hand to his face; the stranger in the mirror mirrored the movement perfectly. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded his veins. He didn't care about the needle in his arm or the hospital gown. He grabbed the doorknob and wrenched it open.

​"There you are! You were in there so long, I came to check if you,"

​A young woman stood there, her eyes wide with worry. Sunghoon didn't know her. He didn't recognize a single feature of her face.

​"This has to be a dream!" he hissed, bolting past her. He shoved his way into the hallway, the IV needle ripping out of his vein. A trail of blood began to splatter against the linoleum floor.

​"Haru! Where are you going?" the girl screamed, chasing after him.

​Haru? Who the hell was Haru?

​He sprinted past the nurses' station, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He needed an exit. He needed to wake up. He needed his body back.

​He rounded a corner, one shoe flying off his foot, his heart hammering against his ribs. He saw the "Exit" sign,the red light at the end of the tunnel.

​Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around him, pinning him to the wall.

​"Calm down! You're going to hurt yourself!" a nurse shouted.

​Sunghoon thrashed, his eyes fixed on the door. The girl from the room caught up, her eyes glistening with tears. Seeing her pain made him falter for a split second,enough time for a doctor to step forward.

​He felt the sharp prick of a needle in his arm. The world began to tilt. His strength evaporated, leaving him limp in the orderlies' arms.

​"Not again," he whispered, his voice fading as the darkness claimed him once more.

​Chapter 2: The Ghost of 1999

The voices were the first thing he noticed. He recognized one of them,not because he knew the woman, but because they had met briefly in the midst of his earlier breakdown.

​His heart sank. He was still here. The nightmare hadn't ended.

​As his hands fisted against the sheets, he felt a warm palm cover his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He drifted back into a restless sleep for a few more hours before finally opening his eyes to stay. This time, he wasn't dramatic. He remained silent, eyes tracking every detail of his surroundings like a caged animal.

​"The doctor said you'll be discharged in two days," the lady said, placing a bag of food on the bedside counter. "But you'll need to come back for checkups. The MRI came out clean, so they're saying the amnesia is hopefully just temporary." She sighed, and Sunghoon caught the tremor of sadness in her voice.

​Passing out seemed to be his new hobby. The mental gymnastics required to process this reality left his brain pulsing with a dull, constant headache.

​Later, he retreated to the bathroom. Se-hee,he had learned her name from the nurses,was cautious about letting him go alone, but she'd eventually relented when he insisted on privacy.

​He stared at his new body in the mirror. It was younger, leaner, but clearly strong. He traced a few faint scars on his torso, wondering what the original owner of this body had endured to earn them at such a young age.

​Then, there was the hair. It was long, flowing past his shoulders. Back in his time, Sunghoon was a "buzzcut" guy,it was his signature look, sharp and masculine. He gathered the dark strands into a messy bun and studied his new face. The inflammation had subsided, leaving behind a sharp jawline and hauntingly deep eyes.

​He hated the long hair. He'd only grown it out for specific period roles; otherwise, he kept it tight. The thought of his old life made him frown.

​Where is my body? Does Lee Sunghoon even exist in this world?

​He decided to use his "amnesia" as a shield. Se-hee seemed like a kind, loyal girl who genuinely cared for this 'Haru' person. The guilt of deceiving her twinged in his chest, but he needed answers.

​A sharp knock rattled the door.

​"Haru? Do you need help?" Se-hee's voice was rising toward panic.

​Sunghoon realized he'd been staring at the wall for too long. He opened the door, forcing a small, practiced smile. Even now, her attire perplexed him. She was dressed entirely in shades of bubblegum pink, right down to her jewelry.

​"All done," he said, reaching out to playfully ruffle her braided hair. She made a face of pure disgust and ducked away from his hand.

​"You really do have amnesia," she muttered, staring at him. He let out a soft laugh and walked back to his bed.

​She watched him settle in, her expression softening. Seeing him more lively seemed to put her at ease. They were alone now; the other patient had been discharged, leaving the ward in a rare state of quiet.

​"What's wrong?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the opposite bed.

​"Nothing. I just... I don't remember what happened. To me. Or to the world."

​"You can ask me anything," she said with a wide, encouraging smile. "Don't strain yourself trying to force the memories back."

​Sunghoon took a breath. "I keep thinking of a name. Lee Sunghoon. But I don't understand why."

​"That's easy! We can just search for it," she said brightly.

​"Will the nurses let us go to the library?" Sunghoon asked, looking toward the door. "I don't think they'll let us use their computers."

​Se-hee's eyebrows shot up in confusion.

She slowly pulled a sleek, thin rectangle of glass and metal from her bag. "Why would we need a library?"

​"To use the computer," he repeated, confused. Wasn't that obvious?

​Se-hee suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. Sunghoon stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.

​"You can just search on a phone!" she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. "I didn't think losing your memory would make you a comedian. You're usually so... stiff."

​Sunghoon's eyes darted to the small device. He'd seen her talking into it, but he hadn't realized it was a gateway to information. He watched, puzzled, as her thumb danced across the glowing screen.

​"The first thing that pops up is an actor," she said, scanning the text. "It says he died on New Year's Eve, 1999."

​Sunghoon lunged forward, snatching the device from her hands. She gasped at his sudden intensity but moved closer to look with him.

​His heart stopped.

​"SUICIDE," the headline screamed in bold digital letters.

​He didn't remember the details of that night, but the word felt like a physical blow. He remembered the fall, the cold, the betrayal,but he would never have chosen to end it.

​He scrolled down, his thumb trembling. Each article was a fresh wound.

​"Oh, that guy?" Se-hee muttered over his shoulder, her lip curling in a scowl. "I've heard of him. What a bastard, right?"

​Sunghoon froze, the phone feeling like a hot coal in his hand. "What?"

​"That guy was an absolute scumbag. On top of being a narcissistic pig, he was a pervert. They were about to expose him for all sorts of things before he took the easy way out."

​Sunghoon felt the air leave his lungs. It felt as if an arrow had pierced his heart and was being twisted with agonizing slowness.

Pervert? Scumbag? He had spent his life building a reputation of excellence.

​"Anyway, don't stress yourself with that useless fellow," Se-hee said, gently taking the phone back. "You probably just heard the name before that idiot hit you."

​Sunghoon was dazed. He barely felt her hand move his own, guiding a bottle of fresh juice to his lips.

​"Who hit me?" he whispered, the shock finally beginning to recede into a cold, hard anger.

​"Jui," she said with a growl, taking a swig from her own bottle.

​Sunghoon looked down at the juice label. It was a brand he didn't recognize. He had always been rigid about his diet, terrified of how he'd look on camera. But looking at his new, bruised, reflection, he realized those rules didn't matter anymore.

​He took a sip. It was sweet,almost too sweet. Like the life he had lost.