Seungho's morning started like every other—cold, routine, lifeless. He woke up, showered, dressed in his usual monotone attire, and grabbed his bag before stepping out into the bustling city. The streets were already alive with chatter, car horns, and the occasional scent of fresh bread wafting from a nearby bakery.

As he made his way to the hospital, he took his usual route, passing through the family park that now stood in place of his once-beloved library. The trees rustled with the morning breeze, children ran across the grass, and parents sipped coffee on wooden benches.

Everything was the same.

Until it wasn’t.

A faint sound reached his ears. A small, muffled sob.

He stopped.

It was coming from an alleyway just a few steps away, hidden between old brick buildings near the park. A strange pull tugged at his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. His body moved before his mind caught up, his feet stepping onto the uneven pavement as he followed the sound.

And then he saw them.

A small group of kids, older and bigger, surrounding a much smaller boy curled into a corner. The child was trembling, trying to shield himself as one of the bullies raised a hand, about to strike.

Seungho’s body reacted instantly.

His hand shot forward, catching the bully’s wrist mid-air. The sudden strength of his grip made the kid flinch, his eyes widening in panic as he looked up at the stranger.

"Who—who are you?!" the bully stammered.

Seungho’s gaze was cold, his voice calm but sharp. "Someone who doesn’t tolerate cowards picking on the weak."

The bullies exchanged nervous glances before one of them mumbled something under his breath and took a step back. "Whatever, let’s go."

Just like that, they scattered, running off as if Seungho were a ghost.

The alley fell silent except for the quiet sniffles of the small child still curled up in the corner.

Seungho turned his attention to him, kneeling down. "Are you hurt?" he asked gently.

The child hesitated before slowly looking up, and the moment their eyes met, Seungho felt the air leave his lungs.

Green eyes. The same shade of green that had haunted him for centuries. The same soft features, the same pouty lips—just smaller, rounder, more childlike.

It was him.

It was Jiwon.

Seungho’s fingers twitched, every part of him aching to reach out, to pull the boy into his arms, to hold him like he had longed to for lifetimes. But he stopped himself.

This was a new life. A different life. Jiwon was just a child now, innocent, unaware of the cruel fate that always followed him.

Seungho forced himself to breathe, swallowing the lump in his throat as he slowly extended his hand.

"Come on," he said, voice softer than before.

The child hesitated but eventually reached out, placing his tiny hand in Seungho’s. It was warm. Small. Delicate.

Seungho helped him up, gently dusting off the dirt on his clothes before leading him toward a bench in the family park. The boy sniffled, rubbing at his red eyes as Seungho set his bag down and pulled out a small first-aid kit.

"This might sting a little," Seungho warned as he dabbed at a small scrape on the boy’s knee.

The child flinched but stayed still, watching Seungho work with wide, curious eyes.

After a moment, Seungho spoke. "Why were they bullying you?"

The boy sniffled again, kicking his feet slightly as he muttered, "They said I talk funny… and that I look weird."

Seungho frowned, his hands pausing for a second.

The boy hesitated before continuing, "They said my eyes are creepy."

Seungho's chest tightened.

His fingers unconsciously brushed against the child’s soft hair, a gesture so familiar yet so distant. He had spent centuries searching, mourning, longing—and now, fate had placed Jiwon right in front of him once again.

But how long would it last this time?