By day, Sung-won hauled boxes in a warehouse where the air was thick with dust and monotony. The concrete floor trembled under the weight of forklifts. Fluorescent lights buzzed above, casting everything in a cold, pale yellow. His back throbbed with each shift, his calloused hands numb from repetition. He rarely spoke. No one there did. They just worked, counting the hours with each pallet moved.
At night, he traded his uniform for a pizza delivery cap, weaving his scooter through city traffic like a ghost. The engine rattled. The bags reeked of grease. Sometimes customers gave him a smile and a tip. Most times, they barely looked up from their phones.
He'd once dreamed of something different.
Years ago, he had been called a prodigy. A rising star in the world of junior golf. Coaches had lined up. Tournaments had been won. There had been whispers of international scholarships and sponsorships.
But that was before the injury.
Before life got in the way.
Now, Sung-won existed in a loop: work, eat, sleep, repeat. There was no time for dreams anymore.
It was around midnight when he leaned against the glowing window of a GS25 convenience store, nursing a can of coffee. His shirt stuck to his back. His limbs felt like dead weight. A faint drizzle hung in the air, blurring the city lights and reflecting them in distorted puddles.
A voice cut through the silence.
"Man... Sung-won. How long has it been since we hung out?"
He turned slowly. Jae-min. From high school. Still baby-faced, but dressed sharp, probably working in an office now.
Sung-won offered a tired smile. "Yeah. Been a while."
"You still play golf?" Jae-min asked, lighting a cigarette.
Sung-won shook his head. "Nah. Not after I tore my rhomboid. Can't swing like I used to."
"That's rough, man." Jae-min exhaled smoke. "You were the best among us. Thought you'd be on TV by now."
Sung-won laughed dryly. "Yeah. Me too."
The conversation drifted into silence. The kind that clings between people who once shared something but now only have memories.
Eventually, they said their goodbyes, and Jae-min walked off into the night, a shadow disappearing under the glow of passing headlights.
Sung-won stayed behind for a moment, then finally pushed himself off the wall and started walking home.
It was a quiet night. The hum of the city softened by the drizzle. His thoughts wandered.
What if I'd trained harder? What if I hadn't gotten injured? What if I'd made one different choice back then?
Regret was a bitter thing. It didn't scream—it whispered. Constantly.
He didn't notice the car speeding through the intersection.
Not until it was too late.
The world became sound: tires screeching, a horn blaring, a sickening thud. Pain exploded through his body. He flew, then crashed hard onto the wet pavement.
He lay still, gasping, staring at the rain as it fell into his open eyes. His chest heaved. Blood ran from his mouth, pooling on the asphalt.
Is this it...? Is this how it ends?
Everything was fading. Cold.
"I wish..." he whispered, breath shallow. "I wish I could start over…"
Then, silence.
"Come to wake."
The voice was strange—calm, mechanical, almost melodic.
Sung-won's eyes fluttered open. But something was wrong. He wasn't lying on the street anymore. He was floating in a weightless void filled with shimmering lights, like stars trapped in glass.
"W-what… is this?" he murmured.
"I am the Super Golf System. You appear to be a VIP customer. I shall now assist you in your golf adventures."
His jaw dropped. "Wait, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Initializing regression protocol. Current destination: Year 2014. User age: sixteen. Rebooting personal timeline."
The voice echoed into silence.
And then, blinding light.
He awoke with a start.
His breath hitched. He was lying on a mattress that felt... familiar. Not the old futon in his dingy apartment. This one was soft, warm. The room around him—he recognized the posters on the wall. The desk. The golf trophies.
"No way..." he whispered.
He scrambled to the mirror. A young face stared back. Clear skin. No stubble. No scars. No dark circles.
He touched his cheeks. His heart pounded.
"I'm sixteen...?"
The realization hit like a lightning bolt. He was back.
Back in time.
Back before the injury. Before the warehouse. Before the broken dreams.
And if this was 2014…
He threw the door open and sprinted down the hall.
"Mom?" he shouted.
From the kitchen, a familiar voice rang out. "You're up early, sweetie! I just started breakfast."
His eyes welled up. He turned the corner and saw her—his mother. Alive. Laughing as she stirred something in a pot.
Then—
"Morning, champ." A deeper voice.
His father stepped in from the balcony, a newspaper tucked under one arm. His grin, warm and unchanged.
Sung-won choked back a sob. He stared at them both, speechless.
They were alive.
He had another chance.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Welcome, VIP user.Beginner Golf System unlocked.Tutorial Mission: Complete a full swing without injury.Reward: +1 Strength, +1 Swing Accuracy, Skill Unlock: Ball Trace Vision (Level 1)
The glowing blue text appeared faintly in his vision, like a heads-up display in a video game. But he ignored it for now.
Right now, all he cared about... was that he was back.
And this time, he wasn't going to waste it.