They say a rose may be beautiful… but one should never forget the thorns wrapped around it.

An Ran understood that now.

Too late.

“The only regret I have… is ever falling in love with you.”

His voice trembled, fragile as glass on the verge of breaking. Every word seemed to scrape against his throat, as though even speaking hurt.

“I gave you everything… my heart, my time, my trust. I… I thought…” His lips parted, but the rest refused to come out. His thoughts tangled, collapsing under the weight of reality. “I thought I was enough for you.”

Silence answered him.

Cold. Unfeeling.

“Why did you hate me?” he whispered, his eyes reddened and swollen, tears clinging stubbornly to his lashes. “For what reason exactly?”

Before him stood the man who had once been his entire world.

Liang Chen.

Tall, composed, and distant as ever… but not alone.

Someone else stood beside him, held protectively within Liang Chen’s arm as if shielding him from danger. As if An Ran himself were something to be feared.

The sight twisted something deep inside his chest.

Still, he asked.

“…Did you ever love me?”

Liang Chen didn’t hesitate.

“No.”

The word fell cleanly, without warmth, without regret.

Like a blade.

For a moment, everything stilled.

Then, An Ran smiled.

A small, broken curve of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I see,” he said softly. “I understand.”

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, nails pressing into his palms, grounding himself in the pain.

“I regret it,” he continued, his voice steadier now, though it carried a quiet bitterness. “The day I met you… I regret it. I regret ignoring everyone who warned me about you. They said you were cold. Cruel.”

He let out a faint, hollow laugh.

“They were right.”

Liang Chen said nothing.

Did nothing.

That silence hurt more than anything else.

“Don’t worry,” An Ran added, lifting his chin just slightly, as if trying to hold onto the last fragments of his dignity. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

His gaze flickered briefly to the person hidden behind Liang Chen.

“Enjoy your love life.”

The way Liang Chen shifted—subtly, but unmistakably—to shield the other person from him… it felt like the final strike.

As though An Ran was something ugly.

Something dangerous.

............................

A quiet laugh escaped him.

Bitter. Empty.

Then he turned and walked away.

He didn’t know how long he walked.

Didn’t know when the sky darkened, when the clouds gathered, or when the rain began to fall.

Cold droplets soaked through his clothes, clinging to his skin like a second layer, but he barely felt it.

All he could feel was the hollow ache in his chest.

How foolish…

To believe he could ever win Liang Chen’s heart.

To believe that love, if given enough, would one day be returned.

“I really am… pathetic,” he murmured under his breath.

The world blurred around him. His vision dimmed, thoughts slipping into fragments.

He didn’t hear the sound of the car.

Didn’t see the headlights cutting through the rain.

A sharp screech.

A sudden force.

Then—

Pain.

It spread through his body in an instant, violent, and unforgiving, dragging a broken laugh from his lips.

So this is how it ends…

His body lay motionless, rain washing over him as warmth slowly drained away.

His vision flickered, fading in and out as memories rushed forward like a collapsing tide.

Faces.

Voices.

Warnings he had ignored.

And then—

His brother.

“Stop chasing someone who will never love you.”

“Brother…” he whispered weakly, tears mixing with the rain. “If I had listened to you… maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Regret wrapped around him like chains, tightening with every breath.

“If there is another life…” His voice trembled, barely audible now. “I don’t want to meet Liang Chen again.”

A pause.

A fragile, broken thought.

“…It would’ve been nice… to see a red rose one last time.”

A faint, self-mocking smile touched his lips.

“What a disappointment…”

Darkness swallowed him whole.

“…Mm.”

A soft sound escaped his lips.

Light filtered through his eyelids.

Warm. Gentle.

Alive.

An Ran’s eyes snapped open.

He sat up abruptly, breath uneven, his heart pounding as though trying to escape his chest.

The pain—gone.

The rain—gone.

The cold—gone.

Instead, sunlight spilled across the room, quiet and ordinary.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

His gaze shifted slowly toward the window.

Outside, the hazelnut tree stood tall, its leaves swaying gently in the breeze. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, just as it always had.

Just as it used to.

“…I’m back?”

His voice came out in a whisper.

Disbelief filled his eyes, followed by something deeper.

Something colder.

A slow breath left his lips.

Then he laughed softly.

Not bitter this time.

Not broken.

But empty.

“I see…”

His fingers curled into the bedsheet, tightening slightly.

“This time…”

His gaze hardened, any lingering warmth extinguished completely.

“I’ll make sure…”

“I never cross paths with Liang Chen again.”

Outside, the wind stirred.

And somewhere in the distance, unseen and inevitable—

fate quietly shifted its course.

Looking out the window, An Ran felt a strange stillness settle over him.

Everything was the same.

The sky stretched endlessly, pale and calm. The sunlight slipped gently through the curtains, resting against his skin as if nothing had ever changed. As if he had never died.

As if that night had never happened.

His fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the bed.

I’m… really back.

The thought echoed quietly in his mind, fragile and uncertain.

Was this fate’s mercy?

Or something else entirely?

Did the heavens pity him enough to grant him another chance… or was this simply a dream too vivid to question?

His gaze lowered, watching the way light pooled across his hands. There were no scars. There are no traces of blood. No proof that his life had ended on a cold, rain-soaked street.

If this was a dream…

Then he didn’t want to wake up.

Not now. Not ever.

Drawn by something familiar, his eyes shifted toward the window again.

Outside, the rose garden bloomed quietly beneath the morning light.

It had always been there.

Carefully tended by his mother, each rose standing proud and delicate, their petals soft yet guarded by thorns. Even from a distance, he could almost catch the faint scent carried by the breeze.

Memories surfaced without warning.

A younger version of himself, kneeling beside the garden with his sleeves, rolled up. His older brother was laughing softly as he guided his clumsy hands.

“Careful,” his brother had said. “Roses aren’t as gentle as they look.”

But he hadn’t listened.

A sharp sting.

A thorn pierces his finger.

He remembered the way a bead of blood had welled up, bright against his skin. How it had fallen onto the petals, staining them deeper—making the rose seem even more beautiful… and more dangerous.An Ran’s eyes darkened slightly.

Beautiful… and dangerous.

The thought lingered.

In his first life, he had been neither.

Too soft.

It's too easy to reach.

Too willing to give everything away.

And what did it bring him?

Nothing but heartbreak.

A quiet breath escaped his lips.

Why can’t I become like that?

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

Unreachable.

Someone no one could touch… no one could break.

A faint smile slowly bloomed on his face.

Soft.

Calm.

And utterly different from before.

“A’Ran, are you awake?”

The voice came gently, carried through the slight creak of the door as it opened.

An Ran froze.

His heartbeat stumbled.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned toward the sound.

There she stood.

Just as he remembered.

His mother.

Her expression was warm, touched with the usual quiet concern as she stepped into the room. The morning light followed her in, wrapping her figure in a soft glow that felt almost unreal.

For a moment, An Ran couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t breathe.

He had imagined this moment before—dreamed of it in fragments he could never hold onto.

But now that she was here…

Alive.

Within reach.

His vision blurred.

Tears gathered before he could stop them, spilling over as his chest tightened painfully.

He didn’t realize he was shaking until his hands curled into the bedsheet.

This feeling—

It was too overwhelming.

Too real.

Too precious.

“Mom…!”

The word broke out of him like something long buried, raw and desperate.

Mrs. An froze in place, startled.

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering across her face as she looked at him.

It had been years.

Years since she had seen her son cry like this.

Not since he was a child.

Not since before he learned to hide his feelings behind quiet smiles and silence.

“A’Ran…?” she called softly, stepping closer.

Concern replaced her surprise almost instantly.

But An Ran couldn’t stop.

Tears continued to fall, each one carrying the weight of a life he had already lost.

A life where he would never hear her voice again.

Never see her again.

Never call her Mom again.

He had thought he lost everything.

But now…

Now, it was all in front of him again.

For the first time since waking up, his heart trembled—not with pain, but with something far more fragile.

Something he hadn’t dared to hope for.

A second chance.

And this time…

He wouldn’t waste it.

Morning settled gently over the An residence.

The house, once filled with familiar rhythms, now felt… different.

Not because anything had changed.

But because An Ran had.

At the dining table, Mrs. An paused.

Her gaze lingered on her son, quiet and careful.

An Ran sat straight, movements composed, almost too composed. He ate slowly, neatly, without the absent-minded clumsiness she had grown used to.

No distracted glances at his phone.

No soft hums under his breath.

No lazy complaints about breakfast.

Just silence.

“A’Ran… did you sleep well?” she asked gently.

Her voice was the same—warm, cautious.

But her eyes searched him.

An Ran looked up.

For a brief moment, something softened in his gaze.

“I did,” he replied.

His tone was calm. Polite.

Too polite.

Mrs. An’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup.

Too polite.

That was the problem.

In the past, her son had been quiet, yes… but never distant.

Now, it felt like there was a thin, invisible wall between them. Not cold, not unkind—but carefully placed.

Like someone who had learned the cost of letting people too close.

“Eat more,” she said, placing food into his bowl out of habit.

An Ran paused.

He looked at the food for a second longer than necessary.

Then—

“Thank you, Mom.”

A small smile followed.

Perfect.

Gentle.

Measured.Mrs. An’s heart sank.

Something was wrong.

She just didn’t know what.

From the side, a voice broke the stillness.

“Well, this is new.”

An Ran’s chopsticks stilled.

He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

His older brother leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with quiet interest.

Sharp eyes. Familiar presence.

The same person who had warned him in his previous life… again and again.

“Stop chasing someone who will never love you.”

For a fleeting second, something flickered in An Ran’s expression.

Then it was gone.

“You’re up early,” his brother added, stepping into the room.

“Didn’t think you had it in you.”

In the past, An Ran would’ve rolled his eyes. Complained. Thrown a lazy remark back.

Now—

“I have things to do,” he said simply.

Silence.

His brother raised a brow, clearly surprised.

“…You?” he let out a short laugh. “What kind of things?”

An Ran finally looked at him.

Their eyes met.

And for a moment—

Something felt off.

Because the person standing there… looked the same.

But didn’t feel the same.

“I’ll tell you when it matters,” An Ran replied calmly.

The answer was smooth.

Too smooth.

His brother’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something more observant.

Curious.

“…Did something happen?” he asked suddenly.

Mrs. An looked up at that.

“Yes,” she added softly, concern returning to her voice. “A’Ran, you’ve been acting differently since this morning…”

There it was.

The question he knew would come.

An Ran lowered his gaze briefly.

He could lie.

Say it was nothing.

Say he was tired.

Say anything that would make this easier.

But when he looked up again, his expression softened—just slightly.

“I just… realized something,” he said.

“What?” his brother asked.

An Ran’s lips curved faintly.

Not bitter.

Not broken.

But distant.

“That I’ve been wasting my time.”

The words landed quietly.

But they carried weight.Mrs. An frowned slightly. “Wasting time on what?”

An Ran didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he stood up.

Calm. Composed.

Different.

“I won’t do that anymore,” he said.

He picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

Then he paused.

Just for a second.

“Mom,” he said softly.

Mrs. An looked up.

“…I’ll be home early today.”

A simple sentence.

But it made her blink in surprise.

Because before—

There had always been somewhere else he wanted to be.

Someone else.

Now…

There wasn’t.

“…Alright,” she replied gently.

An Ran nodded.

Then he walked past them.

His steps were steady.

Unhurried.

Without hesitation.

Behind him, silence lingered.

His brother exhaled slowly.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “Something definitely happened.”

Mrs. An didn’t respond.

Her eyes remained fixed on the doorway long after An Ran had left.

Because the boy who walked out just now—

Felt like someone she knew…

And someone she didn’t.

Outside, the sunlight stretched across the path.

Warm.

Inviting.

An Ran stepped into it without looking back.

This time…

He wouldn’t chase after anyone.

And somewhere, unseen—

The threads of fate began to shift once more.