My Past Life Got Exposed
“No way… Professor Shin Ijun?”
Mom's voice trembled.
“…”
I couldn't say a word. I couldn't deny it.
The evidence was right in front of us, and Mom already knew about that account.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
I reluctantly spilled everything to her. That from the moment I was born, I'd reincarnated with the memories of my past life as Shin Ijun.
“Really…?”
“…I'm sorry for hiding it all this time… hic…”
I forced the words out. Then I fled the scene—I couldn't stay there anymore.
“Ah, A-yeon!”
Click. I dashed to the master bedroom and locked the door. I was too scared to face Mom.
…I've been caught.
The truth about my reincarnation was something I had to reveal someday. Hiding it forever was nearly impossible. And besides, if I wanted to write that paper, I'd need Mom's help no matter what.
I knew this in my head, but…
When the moment actually hit, Mom's expression wouldn't leave my mind. Her shaking eyes. Her trembling voice. Her panicked face.
Just thinking about it made my chest tighten painfully.
I was scared.
Genius professor who'd solved the Riemann Hypothesis in my past life or IQ 160 prodigy—it didn't matter. Right now, I was just a three-year-old kid.
A little girl terrified of being hated by her parents.
In the pitch-black master bedroom, without even turning on the light, I hugged my knees, buried my face, and sat there.
Han Seol-ae quietly pondered as she looked through the materials in Professor Shin Ijun's personal cloud that A-yeon had been viewing.
Her mind buzzed with overflowing information.
Shin Ijun. That name brought so many memories flooding back for Seol-ae.
“Professor…”
The first time she'd stepped into Professor Shin Ijun's lab was on Jin-hu's recommendation. Jin-hu had told her, who dreamed of majoring in pure mathematics:
— Honey, my friend just got his PhD in the US, came back to Korea, and became a professor. His field is similar to yours. Check him out.
She already knew his friend was Shin Ijun—she'd met him a few times as her boyfriend's buddy.
Back then, he'd seemed blunt and uninterested in worldly affairs. But when she looked into his research, it matched exactly what she wanted to pursue.
She submitted her application right away. And as his sole grad student, she spent two years under Professor Shin Ijun for her master's.
He was a good man.
When she sent him thesis drafts, he'd read them meticulously and give detailed feedback. Their field got no national funding, so pay was tight, but he'd negotiated with the university to give her a bigger cut of his own salary. On the night before an overseas conference presentation—when he didn't need to—he stayed up all night with her anyway. When she chose childcare over a postdoc, he encouraged her, saying her decision wasn't wrong.
And then. Three months after graduation, news of his death arrived.
When she and her husband stood before his portrait at the funeral, Seol-ae wept uncontrollably.
“…Our A-yeon.”
Seol-ae closed her eyes softly and pictured Yoo A-yeon.
Scenes from her birth to now flashed by rapidly.
Feeding her milk. Changing diapers. Bath time. Changing clothes. Her first steps. Her first words. Nuzzling for head pats whenever she had a chance. Sneaking into the study. The IQ test trip. Kicking her feet happily while reading books. Teaching her little sister A-rin to call her “unni.”
A-yeon is Professor Shin Ijun reincarnated…?
It was hard to believe. But her mind had already accepted it. The evidence was overwhelming.
The way she'd instantly solved problems no child should know. Her perfect score on the IQ test. Her razor-sharp questions while reading math journals. Logging into the professor's account that no one else could access.
If Yoo A-yeon was Professor Shin Ijun reincarnated, it all made sense.
Seol-ae let out a slow breath.
Her respected professor had reincarnated as her daughter. It was a proposition that felt utterly unreal.
But it was reality.
…
How much time passed? The clock pointed to evening. No sound came from beyond the locked master bedroom door where A-yeon had shut herself in.
A-yeon must be waiting inside right now.
What expression would she have? Scared? Crying?
Having sorted her feelings, Seol-ae opened her eyes.
Evening came, and Yoo Jin-hu returned home. His wife said in a serious tone that they should have a family meeting.
The grave atmosphere made him swallow nervously without realizing it. As they sat at the dinner table, his wife calmly explained that A-yeon was Shin Ijun reincarnated.
Including evidence from the laptop screen logged into Shin Ijun's personal account. Honestly, it was such a shock that his mind blanked out.
Shin Ijun. He'd first met him in first year at science high school, as dorm roommates.
First impression: a dull, humorless guy. But sharing meals revealed he was surprisingly fun. That was the start.
They both studied hard, went to the same university. Ijun to mathematical sciences, him to statistics. Different majors, but same natural sciences building meant frequent run-ins. Overlapping free periods led to shared lunches; they'd prepped for math competitions together too.
After graduation, he got a job while Ijun went to the US for his PhD. They kept in touch often. “You doing okay? Eating properly?” Lots of check-ins.
Then he heard Ijun had returned to Korea as a professor. Perfect timing—his girlfriend majored in pure math too, so he recommended the most passionate, reliable guy he knew: Professor Shin Ijun.
When Seol-ae passed her grad school interview, Jin-hu thought it was great. He was someone you could trust.
Then Ijun died. Cause: heart attack.
He still remembered the day he got the news. Staring blankly at the wall, too depressed to eat properly for a while.
A world without that guy was hard to imagine. He always felt like Ijun was out there somewhere. Even if the world ended, he'd be holed up in some lab peering at papers.
That was why, when naming his daughter, he'd wanted to draw some of Ijun's spirit.
And now. That Ijun had reincarnated as his daughter. Maybe naming her had caused it? There was that old lore about naming forging a soul bond. Had naming her drawn his soul back after death? Even occult thinking like that felt convincing.
“…You're joking, right?”
“I'm not joking.”
“…”
It was absurd. He had no clue how to process this.
But Jin-hu wasn't one to overcomplicate things.
He glanced at the ceiling for a moment, then reached the same conclusion as his wife.
How long had I sat there with my face buried in my knees?
“A-yeon. Come out? We need to talk.”
Mom called me.
“…”
Creeeak. I forced the door open.
Mom and Dad sat at the table with serious faces.
I took the empty seat, and silence hung for a moment.
“A-yeon.”
Mom called me.
“Yeah.”
“You were scared, huh?”
Mom slowly reached out and gently wrapped her hands around mine. My trembling hand calmed.
“Mom was shocked too. Honestly, my head's still a mess.”
“…”
“But you know, A-yeon.”
Mom gazed softly into my eyes.
“From the day you were born until now, not a single day have I not been your mom.”
I gripped her hand tight.
“I remember you smiling happily while nursing, me catching your first wobbly steps, you kicking the blanket with your feet while reading, playing with A-rin instead of your favorite book. All that's the real you. Even if you were someone else before, that time isn't fake.”
Warmth flowed from our clasped hands.
“Even if you have Professor Shin Ijun's memories, it doesn't change the A-yeon sitting here. Past life memories are just that. They don't erase our family bonds.”
Tears poured out. I'd tried to hold back, but I couldn't.
“Sob… hic… waaaah…!”
Mom pulled me into a hug. I buried my face in her chest.
“Same for Dad. The way you grabbed my finger tight the day you were born, giggling on the airplane ride, tugging my pants for books. All real you.”
Dad smiled kindly too.
“Whether there's someone else's past life memories in your head or not, you're just our quirky daughter. What parents wouldn't love a kid with personality?”
Then he plopped his palm over my head.
“You're just our girl. A-yeon.”
“Sniff… sniff…”
Dad chuckled and ruffled my hair.
After dinner.
Alone in my room, staring at the ceiling, I felt that sage-time clarity.
Haa… so embarrassing…
Three years old, and I'd bawled like a baby from overwhelming emotions.
Me, Yoo A-yeon. Incomparable genius with IQ 160. I'd sworn to seal away tears after my third birthday.
The seal failed.
I wanted to die of shame.
Pat pat. Right on cue, A-rin toddled in, freshly awake.
“Sis, hug me~.”
Yoo A-rin, 16 months. She could walk decently now and string simple words together.
“Later… Sis has complicated feelings right now.”
“Waaah—no! Hug me! Hug me!”
In other words, prime tantrum age.
Not caring if I was upset, A-rin clung even harder.
Good on her for saying “sis” clearly… but can't she consider her big sis's feelings a bit?
“Okayyy, okayyy! Hug time!”
Squeeze.
“Heehee, sis squish.”
“Honestly…”
A-rin loved being hugged by her big sis like this.
From infancy, whenever she cried, I'd hold her hand or hug her—and it became habit.
“Good girl, good girl…”
Oddly, the moment I picked her up, the fog clouding my heart started lifting.
After satisfying A-rin and sending her off, I gathered my thoughts.
Yeah. It all worked out fine in the end, right? No point dwelling on the past. What's important now is…
Now that my family knows about the reincarnation, no more holding back.
This was the perfect time to write the proof for the Riemann Hypothesis.
Steeling myself, I ran to the kitchen where Mom was doing dishes and shouted.
“Mommy!”
“Yes?”
“Help me write the paper!”