The sound of children’s laughter echoed through the small, cramped classroom.
Haru sat at his desk, his head resting heavily in his hands.
The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, a constant reminder of the monotony of his life.
He glanced at the stack of papers in front of him—lesson plans, attendance sheets, and a pile of unpaid bills.
“Another day, another struggle,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
Haru had been a kindergarten teacher for three years now.
Three long years of scraping by on a salary that barely covered rent, let alone the rising cost of living in Seoul.
He loved the kids—truly, he did.
Their bright smiles and boundless energy were the only things that kept him going most days.
But love didn’t pay the bills, and it certainly didn’t make the exhaustion any easier to bear.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
“What am I even doing with my life?” he asked the empty room.
“I’m 28 years old, living paycheck to paycheck, and for what? To watch these kids grow up while I stay stuck in the same place?”
The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, suffocating.
He wanted to leave, to find something better, but every time he thought about quitting, he pictured the faces of his students.
Their innocent eyes, their laughter, their tiny hands clutching crayons as they drew pictures for him.
How could he abandon them?
The bell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts.
The door burst open, and a flood of children rushed in, their voices filling the room with chaos and joy.
Haru forced a smile onto his face, pushing his worries aside.
For now, he had a job to do.
***
The day passed in a blur of lessons, games, and the occasional tantrum.
By the time the final bell rang, Haru was exhausted.
He was packing up his things when he smelled it—smoke.
At first, he thought it was his imagination, a trick of his tired mind.
But then he heard the screams.
“Fire! There’s a fire!”
Panic surged through him as he rushed into the hallway.
Thick black smoke billowed from the direction of the cafeteria, and the sound of crackling flames grew louder with every second.
“Everyone, stay calm!” Haru shouted, though his own heart was racing.
He herded the children out of the classroom, guiding them toward the emergency exit.
Other teachers were doing the same, their faces pale with fear.
The chaos was overwhelming.
Children cried as they stumbled through the smoke, their small hands clutching at each other for comfort.
Haru moved quickly, counting heads and making sure no one was left behind.
“Is everyone out?” he called to the other teachers.
“Almost!” one of them shouted back.
“But I think Soobin is still inside!”
Haru’s blood ran cold.
Without thinking, he turned and ran back into the building.
The heat was unbearable, the flames licking at the walls and ceiling.
He coughed as the smoke filled his lungs, but he didn’t stop.
He found her in the corner of the classroom, curled up and trembling.
It was little Soobin, one of his quietest students.
Her eyes were wide with terror as she clutched her stuffed rabbit to her chest.
“Soobin!” Haru shouted, dropping to his knees beside her.
“We need to go, now!”
She shook her head, too scared to move.
Haru didn’t have time to argue.
He scooped her up into his arms and ran for the door, but the flames were spreading faster than he’d anticipated.
The ceiling above them groaned, and before Haru could react, a beam came crashing down, blocking their path.
He stumbled back, shielding Soobin with his body as debris rained down around them.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, though his voice shook.
“We’re going to be okay.”
But deep down, he knew they weren’t.
The fire was too intense, the smoke too thick.
He could feel his strength fading, his vision blurring.
As the flames closed in around them, Haru’s life flashed before his eyes.
He saw his parents, his friends, the children he’d taught over the years.
He thought about all the things he’d never done, the dreams he’d never pursued.
And then, finally, he thought about Soobin.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the fire.
“I’m so sorry.”
And then everything went black.
***
The news report that evening was brief but devastating.
“A fire broke out at a local kindergarten earlier today, resulting in the tragic deaths of two individuals.
Among the victims was a teacher who reportedly died while attempting to save a student.
The child, a six-year-old girl, also perished in the blaze.
Authorities are investigating the cause of the fire…”
***
When Haru opened his eyes, he was surrounded by white.
Not the blinding white of flames, but a soft, ethereal glow.
For a moment, he thought he was in heaven.
But then he looked down at his hands—small, delicate, and unmistakably feminine.
“What the…?” he croaked, his voice higher and softer than he remembered.
He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding.
His body felt strange, unfamiliar.
He was wearing a flowing white dress, and his hair—long and silky—brushed against his shoulders as he moved.
“Where am I?” he muttered, his voice trembling.
“What’s going on?”
The world around him was unlike anything he’d ever seen.
Rolling hills stretched out in every direction, dotted with vibrant flowers and towering trees.
The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, and the air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers.
It was beautiful, but it was also terrifying.
Haru stumbled forward, his mind racing.
Was this heaven? Hell? Some kind of twisted afterlife?
And why was he in the body of a teenage girl?
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby stream and froze.
Staring back at him was a face he didn’t recognize—pale skin, wide eyes, and soft features.
It was like looking at a stranger.
“This… this can’t be real,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
But it was.
And as the reality of his situation sank in, Haru realized one thing: his old life was over.
Whatever this was, wherever he was, he was going to have to figure it out—alone.