⚠️ Content Warning:

This chapter contains strong language, emotional distress, and depictions of suicide.

Reader discretion is strongly advised.

"FUCK YOUUUU! AAAA, YOU FUCKING TRASH UKEEE!!!"

The desk, already worn and covered in countless scratches, groaned under Jaein’s repeated pounding. Each slam added a fresh scar to the battered surface, as if sharing in his rage.

Jaein stood up abruptly, still gripping the novel he had just finished reading. His expression resembled that of someone who had been robbed in broad daylight, rather than someone who had simply finished a romance novel.

But it couldn’t be helped. The tags clearly included psychological and drama, so of course the ending had to be bittersweet, like many others.

"HOW DARE THE AUTHOR LET MY YOON-IE END UP WITH THAT SCUMBAG CHEATER UKE!!!"

Jaein grew even more frustrated. He threw himself onto the bed, arms flailing and limbs heavy with emotion. If his anger could take physical form, the entire room would already be burning to ashes from his outrage alone.

He stared at the book cover, then hugged it tightly to his chest as he curled up.

He was still fuming inside. But the cover featured an illustration of Yoon-ie, and no matter how angry he felt, he couldn't bring himself to treat anything with Yoon-ie's face on it too roughly.

Unfortunately, it also included an illustration of Kaiel, the main character. The very one Jaein hated to death.

"I won’t believe the uke has changed. No, I don't care if he did. He didn’t deserve to be with my Yoon-ie after everything he did!"

Jaein clutched the book tighter with a pout.

He knew he was being overdramatic. It was just a fictional story with a plot that had probably been recycled dozens of times. Tomorrow, he will likely be reading a new one and forget about all the characters and plot points from this one. But still, right now, it felt like he was a father who had watched his precious child get married off to a complete scumbag.

He looked up at the ceiling, replaying every misfortune the male lead had suffered since meeting the main character.

There was that time the MC went to a hotel with his ex, while the ML was juggling a part-time job and university courses. Then another time, the MC faked being sick just so the ML wouldn’t leave him alone at home, which resulted in the ML getting fired.

And then... then...

Jaein's thoughts kept cycling through all the injustices the male lead had faced as he stared absentmindedly at a crack in his wall.

Huh... that's strange.

He focused on the crack. His eyes widened. He almost jumped off the bed when he noticed that it was no longer just a crack. It had expanded into a visible hole.

"Goddammit."

Jaein cursed under his breath and massaged his forehead as if he had a headache, though he knew it wasn’t real.

It hadn’t been long since he was forced out of his last foster home. Now he was juggling three part-time jobs to support himself while also attending university. He didn’t have the luxury to be picky about where he lived. He had found this place through a friend of a friend and already knew it came with problems. The soundproofing was poor, and several walls had existing cracks. He hadn’t cared at the time. Anywhere was better than any of his previous foster homes. He hadn’t exactly been welcomed there. But here, he could live his life on his own terms.

Still, he never expected the wall to literally crumble, leaving a hole near the ceiling that opened into his neighbor’s unit. If he stacked a few chairs and climbed up, he was certain he would be able to see inside their room directly.

Jaein flung himself back onto the bed with a sigh.

He stared at the ceiling again, resolving to contact the landlord first thing in the morning. The soundproofing was already terrible. He didn’t want to imagine what it would be like now that there was a hole. Worse, what if it got bigger?

The couple next door was hardly quiet to begin with. They argued at least once every hour. Yesterday had been the loudest fight yet. He had even considered reporting the situation to the landlord. But this morning, when he saw them, they looked like they had already made up, so he dropped the idea.

Now that he thought about it, they were unusually quiet today. Were they not home yet?

Jaein had a habit of getting so focused when doing something that he wouldn’t notice even if a fire broke out. It had happened once, thankfully, it was just a fire drill.

His thoughts drifted back to the novel again. It was always like this. His head was never quiet. It constantly played scenes and voices. Reading was the only thing that could silence it. When he read, he could forget everything else, and for a while, the noise in his mind would go still.

Hugging the novel tightly, Jaein kept grumbling softly about the male lead’s suffering. Before he realized it, his eyes were closing. Sleep overcame him while he was still recalling every heartbreaking detail from the story.

Jaein’s eyes fluttered open, but the world around him was spinning. His chest ached. The air was too thick, or maybe it wasn’t there at all.

It felt like his body was no longer his. Numb. Heavy..

He could hear voices, faint at first, then sharper, somewhere beyond the blurriness of his sight.

“They seem to be a couple. There are charcoal trays, the rooms are sealed from inside, and there are sleeping pills.”

“It’s a double suicide. Male and female. Looks like they planned this one.”

Jaein’s mind spirals.

Wait. What did they just say?

Charcoal?

Jaein wanted to move. To scream. But his body refused.

Then it hit him.

The wall.

That damn hole in the wall.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He wanted to shout, to cry, to slap someone. That stupid fight from yesterday, that silence today. How could he not connect it? And now he was choking on the aftereffects of those stupid couple choices.

A surge of fear gripped his mind.

Help me. I'm here. You idiots. I’m not part of their damn drama. I live next door!

But no one was listening. The voices continued, but none came closer. None noticed the motionless boy next door, half-curled in bed with a worn novel still in his arms.

“Get her on the stretcher. Her vitals are dropping fast.”

“The guy’s cold. Probably passed hours ago.”

Their footsteps were moving away.

No! No! Wait! Me! I’m still alive, you blind bastards!

Jaein screamed inside his mind, but nothing came out. No sound. No breath. His lungs refused to work. Darkness began to bloom at the edges of his vision.

His thoughts began to spiral, clinging to the only thing left. Hope.

God. Hey. If you’re real. If I’m really going to die like this, then listen.

No cousins trying to poison me. No half-brothers pulling my oxygen tube. No nonsense from uncles embezzling money.

I don’t care about family love. I don’t need love. I just want peace. And billions. Give me a life where I don’t have to lift a finger, where I can blow a million a day and can’t ever complain I’m broke.

Don’t make me work. Don’t make me study. I don’t want to hustle. Just give me a soft couch, a private pool, and a black card that never runs out.

His prayer was wild. Unfiltered. Desperate.

Let me live like trash. Expensive trash. Golden trash. Untouchable trash.

And as the world slipped further from his grasp, Jaein thought of Yoon-ie one last time and how even he didn’t suffer this much.

Then the darkness swallowed him whole.

White. It was unbelievably white.

That was Jaein’s first impression of the afterlife.
It was so cliché.
He genuinely expected more. A little originality maybe. A little abstract mystery. Not this sterile blankness.

Why does it look exactly like it does in movies?
Jaein sighed internally, more annoyed than afraid. It almost made him laugh — that he was more surprised at how expected it all looked than the fact that he was actually dead.

But then came something wholly unexpected.

What the hell is that?

Two gigantic shadowy heads emerged above him, features undefined but towering and clearly alive. They leaned over him with a playful, grotesque rhythm, waving their enormous hands slowly in the air.

Mocking him. Teasing him.

Jaein's first instinct was to move, run, do anything. But his body didn’t respond. He just lay there, helpless, watching their figures loom.

Then he realized something else. Something worse.

He was lying on something wet and cold.

Did I...?
No. No no no.
Oh God. Please tell me I didn’t…

The humiliation burned deeper than fear.

He wasn’t sure if this was worse than the time he rejected a girl, thinking she liked him, only to find out she was into his best friend. At least that one didn’t involve bodily fluids.

What the hell did I do in my last life to deserve this?

From what he knew, he had never been a bad person. Morality was relative, sure, but he tried. He had lied to friends, yes, said he was fine after getting kicked out of foster care, when he was anything but, but he had never hurt anyone intentionally.

And now here he was. In hell, it seemed. Peeing himself in front of demons or some sort.

The shadows moved again, drawing closer, arms stretching as if ready to reach for him.

"I told you he'd cry if you do that."

"W-what? I was just playing peek-a-boo! Like people do!"

"With that face? That's not peek-a-boo, that's psychological assault."

"Screw you! Your face isn't any better!"

The words hit him. And to his dismay...

He could understand them.

Jaein blinked.

Wait. I can understand monster languages? Who gave me this useless skill? I don’t need to understand what monsters are planning to do with me!

"And look, he's not even crying."

Yeah, because I already pissed myself. If I cried now, I might as well kill myself again out of shame.

He stared up, mortified, listening as the two shadows continued bickering.

"What are you two doing now?"

A third voice. Softer. Feminine. Familiar in the way warmth from a fireplace might feel familiar, even if you’d never seen one before.

"Darling, are you sure you're okay walking like that?"

"I'm fine, honey. You're always worrying."

"Ugh. Spare me."

"If you don't like it, take your lethal face and get out of here!"

"Darling, don't be mean to Anseo. He came a long way just to be here."

"He's the one scaring our son!"

"I was playing peek-a-boo!"

"Hahaha. Look at our little Jae. He looks so confused. Almost like he understands us."

"Of course he does. He’s my son."

"Be realistic. I don’t care whose son he is — he’s three days old. You think babies can understand language?! Are you cra—"

"Anseo. Language."

"Ugh. Sorry."

Jaein blinked again.

Son? Baby? What???