Episode 6: The Smiling Woman (Part 2)

About fifteen minutes' walk from school, an apartment complex came into view in the distance. A typical middle-class neighborhood apartment. Our home.

In my previous life, after Nakseong High School was closed, our family had relocated across the Han River with government aid, living there for three years before I regressed. From my perspective, visiting this place was long overdue—like returning to my childhood home after years away.

I'd worried at first that three years might have erased the route from my memory, but as I followed the sidewalk, it all flooded back.

Yeah, there was a shop like this. I ate tteokbokki here... That mart was where I ran errands for Mom all the time. That restaurant was where we went out as a family for my birthday... And way over there, our apartment building.

Even after three years, I could instantly recall the exact wing and floor. My heart pounded uncontrollably as I hurried toward the complex entrance.

But... what was the secret code for our building's door again?

I stood in front of the entrance to my wing, racking my brain.

"Damn, what was it?"

Shit. Our apartment was right there, just a few floors up if I craned my neck, but I couldn't get in. Even the laundry hanging on the balcony was visible through the semi-transparent glass.

...Calling my parents out of the blue to ask for the password would be weird, right?

It wasn't that weird, but did I really need to go to that length? In the end, I decided to wait for someone to come out.

Morning meant light foot traffic, so I sat there for a good while before an ajumma finally emerged, opening the door. I dashed in, hit the elevator button, and hopped aboard.

7th floor.

My heart raced. The posters, flyers, and familiar patterns plastered inside the elevator—everything was unchanged. Home was a place that felt alien even after a single night away for a school trip or retreat, but this was three whole years for me.

Was this how it felt to return home after finishing military service? A mix of joy, eerie stability at seeing everything intact, and that thrilling anticipation.

The doors opened, and spotting the recycled trash Mom had sorted by the front door sent my excitement into overdrive.

What do I say when I see Mom? Is my old computer still there?

Mulling over such thoughts, I punched in the door code—thank god I remembered that one—and stepped inside.

"I'm home~!"

I shouted energetically, but the house was silent.

"Mom?"

In the kitchen, a note and ten thousand won sat on the table.

"Mom..."

I remembered now. Three years ago—or rather, in my past life—Mom had started working double shifts as a cashier at the mart.

Overwhelmed with longing, my eyes welled up as I muttered, "Why just ten thousand... Chickens cost nearly twenty thousand these days..."

I missed her. I missed Dad too. It hadn't been that long by my current timeline—just yesterday, really. But after witnessing their deaths up close in my previous life before regressing, the ache cut deeper.

"Hoo... But nothing's going to happen. No need to rush. I'll savor my homecoming slowly."

I took a deep breath. The mingled scent of Dad's orchids and Mom's air freshener—this beloved house smell. It felt lived-in. Our rushed move in the previous life had landed us in a decent place, but it never felt like home. This old house, though—the air, the vibe, all unchanged.

"Hometown" might evoke rural imagery in the media, but for someone born and raised in the city like me, this was it: the house where our family had shared so many years. After Nakseong High's closure in that life, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠government had evacuated nearby residents suspecting biochemical terror, sealing off the area. I could never even visit. A place I'd always yearned for.

I hit the bathroom first for a piss. The tub I used to soak in half the time, even my old toothbrush—each stirred nostalgia.

The new place had some weird shower booth instead of a tub. So inconvenient.

Bathrooms needed tubs. Full stop.

My room. Wonder if it's the same.

After finishing up, I rushed to my room. It was exactly as I remembered: curtains, bed, desk, computer.

In the rush of that previous ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠move, I'd left personal stuff like the PC behind. Lost games, cherished photos, my diary—everything. A constant regret. Now, reclaimed.

Coming home early from the entrance ceremony to my old house felt surreal. Sitting on my bed, it was like dreaming—but not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠joyful, more hazy and wistful. Old homes had that effect. Just sitting there pulled you into reverie.

"...Computer."

Snapping out of it, I stood and booted it up.

"Wonder what I was thinking back then, three years ago."

The desktop brimmed with nostalgic folders.

"Right, I was playing this game... Let's check the browser history. Oh, PastLifeRubberShoes. Yeah, I was hooked on this webnovel... Battlegrounds was around back then too. Played longer than I thought... Ah, this—"

I got lost in memories, rummaging through the PC, touring the house, ordering chicken with Mom's cash, lounging with TV, wandering the complex, sitting at the playground reminiscing. Dusk fell before I knew it.

Back home fiddling with my phone, I heard the door lock beeping—Mom and Dad returning from work.

"Aigoo~~~ Joonie~~~!"

I bolted to greet them, but they entered casually.

"Oh my, why so excited today?"

"I missed you guys..."

"Heh, something happen? See a ghost at home or what?"

Dad chuckled heartily, cracking a joke. The warm atmosphere led to a family dinner, chatting about my entrance ceremony, new friends, and more. I savored the reunion, ending the day blissfully.

"I'm such an idiot?"

Lying in bed before sleep, rereading my status window, I clicked my tongue in disbelief.

"What's the upside? Quick wits?"

Of course, I already knew my personality. I did okay at most things but rarely finished strong. Socially, lonely alone, craving solitude in crowds. Frugal daily—lights off, plugs pulled—but impulsive on whims. Contradictory as hell.

I'd chalked it up to complexity, but the system hit me with precise, brutal facts.

"...Like I chose this personality."

Unfair, sure, but it confirmed the system operated beyond my cognition, nailing "two-faced" perfectly.

Anything else?

No strength, agility, intelligence stats like in online games. Just poking around, I closed the window, revealing the main screen.

This must be the default main screen.

"What's '2nd Run' mean? With the head explosion, that'd make three... Causal Rate? No response on tap. Club Management locked."

"Number 3, Statistics."

"Everything and then some."

Stats tracked from three years ago, when the game message first appeared at the entrance ceremony—everything about my post-that life.

Checkpoint... Not familiar from online games. Maybe from old console saves, simplified as checkpoints.

The rest... Wonder if it's useful. Headache.

Probably need more deaths to figure it out.

"Next! Number 4, Settings."

Graphics had brightness, contrast, gamma sliders. Tweaking them live-altered my vision—whiter or darker—but impractical. Max brightness didn't help in dim rooms; just a white filter overlay, no real clarity.

"Shit, useless."

[Audio Options].

This was better. Adjusting the floating volume slider muted sounds in real-time. Already quiet alone late at night, but zeroing it silenced the fridge hum from the living room and even my heartbeat. World gone mute.

...Kinda nice. No earplugs needed in noisy spots.

Not actually silencing the world—just tricking my senses, probably.

Controls? Messing around made my feet twitch when I meant to move hands. Unusable.

"Fucking hell, nothing practical."

Fumbling to reset, clock hit midnight. Bedtime.