The sky hung low, a heavy gray curtain pressing down on the execution square. Cold wind swept across the stone ground where two soldiers knelt, bound at the wrists. Minho barely felt the sting of the chains; all he could focus on was the boy beside him—Jisung.

He didn’t know why this boy mattered so much. Why his chest tightened just looking at him. Why something deep inside whispered that this moment should not be happening. He had no memories to explain it… only a feeling. Sharp. Familiar. Painful.

Jisung lifted his head slightly, fear and acceptance mixing quietly in his eyes. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something—something important—but the harsh shouts of soldiers cut through the air, drowning everything.

The sword rose. Time slowed for Minho. Jisung’s eyes caught the light, soft and resigned, almost as if whispering, “This isn’t the end.” Minho’s heart clenched so hard it hurt.

The blade fell. And the world went dark..

Time shattered. Life rewrote itself.

The school hallway buzzed with noise. When the classroom door opened, everyone fell silent for a moment as the teacher walked in, a quiet new student trailing behind him: Han Jisung. Small steps, lowered gaze, a presence that seemed almost fragile.

“Class, we have a new student joining us today. Jisung, welcome,” the teacher said warmly.

Minho wasn’t paying attention, eyes on his notebook. He only looked up out of habit—but the moment his gaze collided with Jisung’s face, his breath caught in his throat.

A jolt shot through him. That face. That feeling. That impossible familiarity.

He knew him. But he didn’t. Not in this life. Not in any memory he could reach.

A fragmented image flashed through his mind—cold stone, a dark square, a boy kneeling, eyes filled with something unspoken—and then the image vanished, like smoke slipping through his fingers.

Minho’s hand pressed against his chest instinctively. His heartbeat felt wrong. Too fast. Too tight. “Where have I seen him?”

The teacher’s voice cut through his confusion: “Jisung, take the empty seat by the window… next to Minho.”

Jisung walked toward him, every step feeling strangely slow, as if the world was holding its breath. Minho wanted to look away—should have looked away—but he couldn’t. That face pulled something deep and buried inside him.

Jisung sat down gently and offered a shy, warm smile. “I hope I’m not a bother.”

Minho’s throat tightened. “No… not at all.” But that wasn’t what he meant. not even close.

Inside, something ached. Terribly. This didn’t feel like meeting someone for the first time. It felt like returning to someone he had already lost.

He remembered nothing. But Jisung was not a stranger. Not to his heart.

And even without knowing why… Minho feared losing him all over again.