Three Turning Points in My Second Life
There were three major turning points in my second life, if we're talking Boy Meets Girl.
The first came the day my little sister was born, when I visited the large hospital to see our mother after giving birth. I was very young back then—still in my infantile phase, before I'd developed proper cognitive abilities—so I have no memory of it. My body took after my father, sturdy and robust, so we rarely had reason to visit a big hospital. In truth, seeing my newborn sister's tiny form and our mother, half overjoyed and half exhausted from labor, marked my first real visit there.
"Dad. What's that?"
"Huh? There's nothing there."
"Pardon?"
A translucent body. Floating aimlessly. Legs fading into mist. It was the spitting image of a ghost straight out of a story—the first human-like specter I'd ever laid eyes on. I didn't realize it at the time, but these figures I kept spotting near the ICU or operating rooms during Mom's visiting hours were genuine ghosts.
That's when I got a little—okay, a lot—excited. Here was something I'd never seen in my previous life. Ghosts, no less. And not just any ghosts, but ones I could see clearly. While my father and everyone else around couldn't spot them at all! The more I thought about it, the higher my excitement climbed in gradients, until I was convinced I'd been born into some urban fantasy with innate spiritual powers.
Of course, I had no clue how to train those powers, so to prepare for whatever threats might come, I focused on building my physical strength through relentless exercise.
And the second turning point:
"Hey, little one. Death lurks close by."
By middle school, I had enough autonomy to roam freely, and that's when I first met the fortune-teller grandma on the street. She called out to me in that old shamanistic tone, and after all those years without another spiritual event since the hospital ghosts, I vented my pent-up frustration by responding.
"Had a near-death experience or something? Your soul shows things even spirits can't see."
"Something like that happened."
I'd died once and reincarnated, after all.
The grandma, who introduced herself as Saji Haruko, taught me basic Spiritual Energy training methods as "self-defense techniques." I followed her curriculum diligently. Of course, as you might guess from her running a fortune-telling stall on the outskirts of a suburban shopping district, she wasn't some grand master, so I didn't stumble into any life-changing opportunities. Still, I leveled up from "fake psychic who can see ghosts" to "half-baked psychic who can exorcise them and help some restless spirits pass on."
Feeling pretty cocky by then, I strutted around my hometown in Saitama Prefecture's Kazo City, banishing weak evil spirits and aiding a few lingering ghosts who'd held onto regrets. Looking back, it was the reckless antics of a kid who could've died any day—arrogant as hell.
And the third turning point:
"Your father's changing jobs."
"Pardon? To where?"
"To Kanemachi City in Tokyo, son."
Kanemachi City? Where the hell is that? I'd studied at the University of Tokyo in my past life and never heard of it... No, it was a vaguely familiar odd name nagging at my memory. Is this Japan as I know it? Well, fantasy world—sure, why not.
After bidding grateful farewell to Grandma Saji, I moved without a second thought, following my father's transfer.
Kanemachi City. Kanemachi City. It rang a bell, but it wasn't any administrative district I remembered. It wasn't until after we'd settled in winter and I received the name of my new high school that it finally clicked.
Kaio High School. A name that reads "Kaio" in Japanese, or "Gyeowang" if you parse the kanji Korean-style—an extraordinary moniker. And that weird place name, Kanemachi City. It was the setting of an eroge from the mad romantic era: Blue Sky Under the Moon, shortened to Aodaru.
I called it the "mad romantic era" for a simple reason: released in the '90s, it featured high school, middle school, and even elementary school heroines, complete with H-scenes—a miraculous work. But not a spiritual battle story, damn it.
Of course, the original world's lore was pretty intense, rivaling any battle manga. Vampires, werewolves, yokai, real shrine maidens with Spiritual Energy—the works. The protagonist's no slouch in combat either. You fight tough enemies during heroine rescue arcs, and bad choices lead to gruesome bad ends. But still, it's an eroge at heart. My gradient-spiking excitement from before deflated just as dramatically.
"What the hell. Whatcha doing in the living room, bro?"
"Reflecting on my life."
"Isn't that the high school admission notice in your hand? You nervous, big bro?"
My sister shot me a weird look before heading into her new room. Fine. Time to calm down and sort my thoughts.
Blue Sky Under the Moon, or Aodaru, was an eroge released in 1991. Famously acclaimed as a masterpiece, it predated the "nakige" genre but got labeled one anyway thanks to its heroines' compelling stories. Not some depraved world devoid of chastity—sex only happens as the loving culmination after building deep bonds.
Heroines include a vampire, a ghost, a shrine maiden, a cat yokai, an elementary school magical girl, a middle school heir to ancient martial arts, a maid robot, and a werewolf. No harem route—all pure love. And with the year being Heisei 3—1991—the high school freshman protagonist is my age. The last boom year before the 1992 real estate bubble burst.
"...Can't beat a vampire in a fight."
Maybe because Aodaru's protagonist is a high schooler, most events unfold around his and the heroines' homes, schools, and nearby areas. Villain vampires target the heroine vampire and raid the school; evil spirits possess extras to cause incidents; groups after AI tech kidnap the robot heroine. And judging by the in-game descriptions, I was comprehensively cannon fodder.
"Son, got a minute?"
"Huh? Sure, Mom."
"Wanna run some errands while getting familiar with the neighborhood?"
"On it."
I shoved aside the depressing reality that brooding wouldn't change and took the note from Mom before heading out. This was the 20th century—no smartphones, not even widespread cell phones—so no LINE or KakaoTalk memos. But thanks to my daily morning jogs and dashing around exorcising evil spirits, my stamina had improved decently. I headed to the nearby shopping district.
Past life Korean, but now 100% pure Japanese—no mixed blood. Mom's home cooking was Japanese, and the ingredients on the list were all Japanese staples.
"Lemme see. Natto and miso. Natto's still impossible no matter how long I live."
Mom nagged me daily for being picky, but hate was hate. In my past life, I couldn't stomach cheonggukjang either, or kimchi if the fermentation smell was too strong. Of course, skipping them wasn't an option. Dad, with his classic Japanese tastes disliking even bread, would grill me if I forgot.
"Hello."
"Oh my. New face!"
These moments reminded me we were in the late 20th century, a more leisurely era. Shopkeepers often remembered locals' faces—or names if friendly. Spotting me as a teen new face, they asked if we'd just moved; I explained Dad's transfer. When I said I was 15 and enrolling at nearby Kaio High, they laughed and welcomed me warmly.
"Here, on the house. Come again."
"Thanks. I'll let Mom know your name ahead of time."
"Quick on the uptake. She'll love ya."
"Probably likes my little sis more, though."
Half-joking, the fishmonger uncle roared with laughter and handed me a bag of mackerel. Half-joking because, ever since childhood, my awareness as a 25-year-old adult meant I rarely whined or begged like a kid. I'd overheard complaints that raising me felt less like parenting; after Hiyori was born, they subtly seemed pleased by her tantrums and fussing. Maybe that's why Mom fusses extra when I skip unfamiliar foods—because I was so undemanding as a little kid. Gratitude to my parents for raising this old-soul son with love.
Errands done, I used the pocket money to grab a roll cake from the bakery—Hiyori's favorite.
"Oh."
"Sorry!"
Really time to head home now, I yanked open the bakery door hastily and bumped into someone entering. Jet-black hair with a faint red aura. A miko outfit you wouldn't see on any street in my past life. Strikingly beautiful, far beyond the average passerby. I instantly knew she was Hanasaki Yui, one of Aodaru's heroines—the shrine maiden of Shinamori Shrine.
Startled by the vastly superior Spiritual Energy she wielded compared to mine, I kept a straight face, bowed, and tried to slip away. But she called out.
"Pardon me. You seem new. Have you just arrived in town?"
"Yes. Less than a week."
She stared piercingly, then tilted her head. Right—Hanasaki Yui was an expert on powers like Spiritual Energy. She'd have clocked me as trained, feeble as I was. Any unknown psychic popping up would catch attention.
"Um, I was out on Mom's errands, so I should head back."
"I see. Sorry for holding you up. You're here with family, not just visiting briefly."
"Yep. Dad transferred here. To Heiji Trading."
"Ah."
She nodded slowly. No reason to hide my family registry—minus the psychic bit—so I handed over Dad's details to make any background check easier. Sorry, Dad. If they dig, just assume your screw-up son's caused trouble.
She didn't seem to think I was hiding anything, bowed lightly, and I took it as dismissal, jogging home.
I fumbled the key frantically, wrenched the door open, and stepped into the entryway—tension melted away.
"Whew, fuck."
"Shibaaru? Isn't that a Korean swear?"
"Sis. I obviously got roll cake, but don't wait by the door. Scared the shit outta me."
"Give me snack, and your swearing stays secret from Mom."
"Deal, kid."
Maybe I should've skipped all the Spiritual Energy crap and just lived normally. This half-assed power just made protagonists, heroines, and villains alike go, Who the hell is this guy? Kinda pathetic. Made me think of cigarettes from my past life—tried once, too harsh, never touched again.