Volume 3—Chapter 69: Hectic
My Reverse Life
That was the last thread of thought I clung to before the void swallowed my mind. A final whisper to myself… a dying wish echoing into the emptiness. But what exactly did it mean?
I feel like I just said it… Not because I understood it,
But because my mind was fading at the edges, slipping into darkness, I needed something to hold on to. Some kind of anchor.
What was I really trying to say?
I think… I wanted a life that’s the opposite of the one I lived. A life that undoes the pain, the regret, the hollow choices I made to survive. A life where I don’t carry the same burdens. Where I don’t hurt the people I was supposed to protect. Where maybe… I didn’t end up a failure.
Maybe that’s why I use the word reverse? However, 'reverse' doesn’t feel like the right word. Reverse means to go back. To move backwards.
But I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to relive the same nightmare just to make different choices. What I want isn’t a rewind…
…it’s a rewrite.
A new path built from the broken pieces—but not bound by them. I want a life that moves forward, but feels like everything I never had before. Maybe I just didn’t have the right words at that moment. Maybe I still don’t.
“Ugh… what the…”
I groaned, my head foggy and my limbs stiff as I blinked open my eyes. A white ceiling stared back at me, a plain, familiar ceiling.
“Wait… I’m home?” I mumbled, blinking a few more times just to make sure.
I tried to sit up, but the blanket tangled around my legs. “When did I get back? Did I… drink last night? No, that can’t be right…”
The thought felt wrong. I wasn’t old enough for that. Right… I’m still underage. So what happened?
Bits and pieces returned.
I remembered being at the cafe with Irana, Viola… and Kotori.
But then what? Did we go straight back to the dorms? No, wait…
“This isn’t the dorm…” I muttered. I looked around again. “This is my room.”
I shifted to one side and felt a bump… no, a person beside me.
I turned my head and froze.
It was Irana, sleeping peacefully, half-covered by the blanket we shared.
“…Seriously?”
This felt oddly familiar. Deja vu, almost like the day I woke up with all my past-life memories intact.
Except… this time, we were both older.
“Onee-chan?” Irana’s voice came out in a sleepy mumble. “Eh… Onee-chan! What time is it?!”
She suddenly sat up, panic flooding her voice as her eyes shot open.
I blinked at her, still waking up, and reached for my phone.
I tapped the screen.
“7:48,” I said flatly.
“AH!! We’re LATE!!” Irana yelped.
Late?
Then it hit me like a slap in the face.
Today was Monday.
School.
We were supposed to be in class.
“Oh crap!”
I tossed off the blanket like it had personally betrayed me and bolted from bed, feet hitting the floor with a loud thump.
Irana scrambled after me, half-tripping over the sheets.
“Wait… Onee-chan, wait for me!” she shouted, trying to keep up as I rushed toward the bathroom like my life depended on it.
I splashed cold water on my face, blinking rapidly as the shock woke me up a bit more. The faucet gurgled as I scrubbed, trying to rinse away the lingering haze from whatever… dream? Memory? Nightmare? That mess of a morning had been.
No time to think about that now.
I grabbed the toothbrush, squeezed way too much toothpaste onto it, and started brushing with intensity.
“Ugh… as much as I hate this,” I muttered, toothpaste foam building up, “there’s no time for a proper bath right now.”
After a half-hearted rinse and one last glance at my vaguely presentable reflection, I bolted out of the bathroom.
My room looked like a storm had hit it. Irana was already halfway dressed and doing that frantic hop-into-your-sock routine, mumbling something about hair ties.
I dove into my closet like it owed me something.
“Uniform… uniform… where the hell… aha!”
I yanked the hanger out, shirt fluttering like a battle flag as I laid it across the bed. Jacket, skirt, tie… got it. I began changing with practised speed, my mind already trying to figure out if I could skip breakfast and avoid homeroom detention.
Irana peeked into my room, shirt half-buttoned, a hairbrush in her mouth.
“Onee-chan… have you seen my left sock?!”
“Check under the futon! And brush after talking!” I snapped back while buttoning up.
While Irana and I scrambled to get dressed, shoving textbooks into bags and tripping over our own socks, a groggy voice drifted in from the hallway.
“What’s all the noise this early in the morning…?” our mom muttered, rubbing her eyes as she appeared in the doorway. Her hair was a mess, her pyjama shirt was half-buttoned, and she still looked half asleep.
Honestly, I'm used to this. Our mom has never been a morning person. But right now wasn't the time for commentary.
“Mom! We’re late for school!” I shouted as I tried to fix my tie, which somehow ended up backwards.
Irana poked her head out of her room, equally panicked. “Yeah! Where’s Dad? Can he drive us to school?”
Our mom blinked slowly, then stared at us like we’d grown two heads.
“What are you two going on about…? School’s closed for the week,” she said flatly, shuffling past us. “Why else do you think you’re even home instead of at your dorms?”
We both froze.
“What?” I said, lowering my hands, mid-button.
“Wait… closed? Why?” Irana asked, equally confused.
“I don’t know. I’m not the one going to school,” Mom replied, yawning. “I heard something about a gas leak or whatever.”
She waved her hand lazily and disappeared back into her bedroom.
“Oh, and keep it down!” she added. “I just finished a 24-hour stream, and I need my beauty sleep.”
A gas leak?
But more importantly…
“Hold on, 24-hour stream?!” I repeated out loud, processing it a beat too late.
Irana and I exchanged glances, both equally baffled.
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