The pale morning light slipped through the tall glass windows, casting a soft glow on the polished marble floor. The living room was massive—big enough to fit a small futsal court—yet completely silent.
In the center, on a leather sofa, sat a man in his sixties. His posture still carried traces of the intimidating presence he once had. In one hand, he held a porcelain cup filled with strong black coffee. Its rich aroma meant nothing to him now—his senses were numb.
His eyes stared beyond the window toward a perfectly trimmed private garden, but his thoughts weren't there. Not with the flowers. Not with the grass. His mind always drifted back—to narrow alleys, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the metallic scent of blood. Back when he was still The Crow, a silent executioner who moved like a ghost.
Now, he had everything:
A secret Swiss bank account.
A luxurious villa far from the city.
A garage full of expensive cars.
He had reached the top of the food chain in his world. But…
"Even with all this money, all these cars... I still don't have a damn wife."
His hoarse voice echoed, breaking the silence. The wealth he had built meant nothing. It couldn't fill the emptiness left by a life drenched in blood and loneliness.
He picked up the tablet beside him and opened a new hyper-realistic battle royale game. His character ran, shot, and built defenses. But his eyes were blank. His fingers moved on their own.
Fifteen minutes later, he threw the tablet aside.
"Fck this."*
A worthless digital victory.
Bored, he scrolled through his contacts:
"Broker X – Water Guy"
"Weird-Haired Informant"
"Dr. Strange"
"k07"
All fake names. All transactional. Not one person he could casually ask, "Wanna watch anime?"
No friends. No family. Just people who'd vanish the moment his money did.
He stared at the chandelier above. Its cold sparkle felt like a joke.
"Is this how the story ends? A 170 cm genius like me?"
His voice shook. Not from age—but from regret.
"After everything… is this what I really wanted? Damn… I listened too much to those 'money is everything' guys… and those 'forget women' influencers..."
No answer. Just silence.
That night, Leo went to bed early—not for rest, but because he was tired of everything. The darkness welcomed him, soft sheets doing little to comfort his worn-out soul.
THUD!
Leo jolted awake. Not from an alarm—but from falling out of bed. He winced. His back hurt. He opened his eyes.
No chandelier. Just a plain ceiling.
He looked around. A small bed. Posters of old games and anime. A messy desk. Textbooks and manga everywhere.
"What the…?"
He stood up, confused, and stumbled toward the mirror on the wardrobe.
He froze.
"Who… is this handsome young man?!"
Thick black hair. Clear eyes. Smooth skin. A body full of energy.
He touched his face. No beard. No wrinkles.
"This… is me? At eighteen?!"
His eyes searched the room. A calendar! There—on the desk. A cheap mecha-themed calendar. He pointed at the date.
[April 29, 2015]
"No way..."
He slapped himself. It hurt. He jumped around. Still real.
This. Was. Real.
A huge grin broke across his face.
"WOOOOO!! LET'S GOOOOO!! SCREW THAT OLD LIFE!"
He rolled on the bed like a madman, fists in the air.
"I'M BACK?! IN THIS ERA?! FCK YEAH! GOODBYE, TRASH LIFE!"*
Laughter exploded out of him. Pure joy. Pure freedom.
And then—it hit him.
"Wait… if I came back to the past..."
His mind snapped into action. Fast. Sharp. Dangerous.
"I know which stocks to buy. I know Bitcoin's future! I CAN GET FILTHY RICH LEGALLY!"
He gasped.
"HOLY SHT! HOLY SHT! HOLY—"
BANG!
The door slammed open. A woman in an old house dress stood there, annoyed.
"SHUT UP, YOU MORON! IT'S TOO EARLY TO YELL!" she shouted. "GET READY! YOUR GRADUATION'S TOMORROW!"
Leo stopped. Everything inside him paused.
Mom.
His mother.
Alive. Well. Complaining like always.
Without thinking, he ran over and hugged her tight.
"H-Huh? Are you okay? Are you possessed or something?" she asked, confused.
"I'm fine, Mom," he whispered. "I just… missed you."
She patted his back, still confused.
He let go, wiped his eyes, and smiled.
"Alright, Mom. I'll get ready."
He grabbed a towel, heart pounding with emotion, excitement, and sharp, cold plans.
This was the first day of his new life.
And he already knew what to do first at school:
Stop the tragedy that ruined everything.