The sound of rain tapping gently against the chapel windows was the only music at my funeral.

No cries.

No prayers.

No one to say they’d miss me.

I watched from the corner of the room—my spirit, transparent and trembling—as people walked past my casket without a word, like they were walking by a stranger. Some checked their phones. Some only glanced at the portrait placed beside the flowers. It was a photo Mio had taken of me last winter. I was smiling like a fool.

Even now, I didn’t know how I died.

The last memory I had was of her—Mio—handing me a glass of juice the night before our wedding. Her smile had been so gentle. Her voice warm.

> “Drink it all, love. You look tired.”

I had. Because I trusted her. Because I loved her.

I was such an idiot.

I floated quietly through the hallways of the funeral home, trying to understand why everything felt so empty. As I passed a closed door—one of the private rooms for the family—I heard something that made my soul freeze.

Laughter.

Her laughter.

I pressed through the wall. Inside, Mio was sitting on a velvet sofa beside a tall man in a black shirt—Shou, the man she always called her "brother."

Only now, he had his hand on her thigh.

> “I’m tired of playing your brother,” Shou said, voice low and husky.

“Me too,” Mio replied with a laugh. “Now that everything’s transferred under our names… it’s all ours.”

I couldn’t breathe—though I had no lungs. My eyes burned—though I had no body.

Shou leaned in closer.

> “You know how bad I wanted to sleep with you,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t. Not while pretending.”

> “Did you ever let him touch you?” he added, his hand now on her waist.

> “Never,” Mio said without hesitation. “He was just a benefactor. A fool. He gave me everything and asked for nothing. That’s why I chose him.”

> “What about the poison?”

“He drank all of it. I told him it was herbal. That idiot trusted me until the end.”

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to tear the room apart.

Tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding.

I rushed at them, fists clenched, but I passed through them like air. Like smoke.

> “How could you?” I whispered.

“Why?”

And just like that, I realized… I had no one. No family. No friends.

I had loved Mio with everything I had, and she had smiled while murdering me.

Back in the main hall, the funeral was almost over. The last guests left quickly—faces unfamiliar. No classmates. No coworkers. No distant relatives.

I died, and nobody mourned me.

Until…

An expensive black car pulled up outside. Rain slid off its sleek surface. A man stepped out, holding a bouquet of white lilies in his hand.

Tatsuya.

I knew that face even before the door opened.

He walked in slowly, wearing a long black coat. Wet hair clung to his forehead, and his lips were trembling. He ignored everyone and walked straight toward the casket.

Toward me.

I remembered hating him.

I remembered arguing with him every time I tried to talk about Mio.

He always stood in my way—always glared at me.

I thought he was jealous. A love rival. Someone who hated me.

But now, as he stood in front of my casket, I saw tears fall freely down his cheeks.

> “You idiot,” he whispered, voice cracking. “What did you do to yourself?”

He placed the lilies beside me, knees hitting the ground as he sobbed.

> “I told you she wasn’t right. I told you—every time. You never listened. But I stayed. Even when you hated me, I stayed.”

His hands clenched into fists. His forehead rested against the side of the casket.

> “Because I love you, Akira. I always did.”

The room went silent. My spirit froze.

> “What…?”

He loved me?

Before I could react, a shiver ran through me—a tug in the air. Something was cracking inside me, some force bending the rules of life and death.

Then… a soft glow appeared at the edge of the room. A strange energy surrounded Tatsuya as he stood up, eyes glowing with fury.

> “I know everything now,” he growled. “And I won’t forgive them.”

He pulled a small silver gun from his coat. My heart—what was left of it—thudded.

> “Tatsuya, don’t—!”

But he was already walking away.

I followed helplessly, yelling, reaching, but my voice didn’t reach him anymore.

In the next moment—gunshots.

Screams.

Blood on the white carpet.

And then—

Darkness.

🌟 Main Character (MC): Akira

Full Name: Akira Itsuki

Age: 17 (after rebirth) / 27 (before death)

Eye Color: Warm amber brown – the kind that glows with kindness but dims when betrayed

Hair: Soft black, a little messy, always falling into his eyes

Height: 5'8" (173 cm)

Build: Lean and slightly slender, with a gentle, unassuming presence

Vibe: The kind of boy who gives more than he gets, always smiling even when he’s hurting inside

Personality:

Akira is the type of person people trust easily. Sweet, patient, and sincere. Orphaned at a young age, he grew up craving love and poured everything he had into people he cared about—especially Mio. He has a tendency to see only the good in others, even when it hurts him. His rebirth shatters that innocence. Now, while still kind at heart, he's sharper. Wiser. Cautious about who he gives his trust to.

Notable Traits:

Always puts others before himself

Deep thinker, but rarely shares his pain

After rebirth, quietly determined to right the wrongs from his past

🔥 Male Lead (ML): Tatsuya Kurobane

Full Name: Tatsuya Kurobane

Age: 18 (at the time of MC’s rebirth) / 28 (at the funeral)

Eye Color: Piercing steel grey – cold at first glance, but silently expressive

Hair: Deep ash-brown, short and always neat; slightly tousled when he's frustrated

Height: 6'0" (183 cm)

Build: Tall, toned, intimidating—like someone you wouldn’t dare cross

Vibe: That one guy who always sat in the back row, spoke only when necessary, but somehow knew everything

Personality:

Tatsuya is misunderstood. Most people saw him as cold, antisocial, and intense. But beneath that stoic exterior, he’s deeply loyal and passionate—especially about Akira. He’s a silent protector, the one who noticed everything but said nothing… until it was too late. After Akira’s death, grief and rage turned him into a storm. But now, with the past reversed, he has a second chance—and this time, he won’t let anyone take Akira away.

Notable Traits:

Protective but subtle about it

Stubborn and fierce when it comes to people he loves

His silence speaks volumes—especially with Akira

...Continuation :...

My eyes opened.

The sun was too bright. My back ached slightly.

I blinked, confused, until I realized—I was lying on my desk.

In classroom 2-B.

My high school classroom.

The chalkboard still had the date: April 3rd.

The same day Mio had transferred in, years ago.

Ten years ago.

My heart pounded.

My fingers trembled.

I looked at them—real. Alive.

Students laughed and chatted around me, unaware.

I looked to the side—and there he was.

Tatsuya, sitting near the window, arms crossed, eyes distant, just like before.

This time…

I won’t ignore you.

I won’t chase the wrong love again.

The classroom buzzed with the easy chatter of spring, but Akira couldn’t hear any of it over the thunder in his chest.

This is real. I’m alive. Ten years ago… again.

Sun-washed dust motes drifted between the rows of desks. Somewhere, a girl squealed about the new transfer student who would arrive later. Akira’s gaze never left the back corner, where Tatsuya Kurobane sat like a dark punctuation mark against the bright morning: arms folded, cheek resting on one fist, steely eyes half-lidded and unreadable.

Akira remembered those eyes filled with tears in a silent funeral hall; he remembered the crack of a gun and the recoil of grief made flesh.

So much pain I never saw.

His fingers tightened around the edge of his desk. He forced himself to breathe.

The Roll Call

“—Itsuki Akira?”

He jolted. “H-Here!”

A ripple of giggles broke out—he’d practically shouted. Heat rushed to his cheeks, but he managed a stiff nod. The homeroom teacher, Mr. Sano, raised an eyebrow and continued down the list.

“—Kurobane Tatsuya?”

A pause.

“Yes,” came the low reply from the window seat. Smooth. Controlled. A voice that could still a room.

Akira watched a few girls glance dreamily at Tatsuya and whisper behind their notebooks. In the first life he’d been vaguely annoyed by that silent attention. Now it struck him how lone-wolf Tatsuya really was: admired but never approached, a constellation everyone looked at yet nobody touched.

I touched nothing, either, Akira thought, guilt throbbing like an old bruise.

But I will, this time.

After the Bell

The moment class ended, desks scraped and students flooded the aisles. Akira’s legs almost forgot how to work; he half-vaulted from his seat, heart leaping ahead of his body.

He reached Tatsuya’s row just as the other boy rose, tall and deliberate. Sunlight hit the silver flecks in Tatsuya’s grey irises—metallic, beautiful, guarded.

“Tatsuya—” Akira blurted. Then froze. What next? I’m sorry I broke your heart at my funeral?

Kurobane regarded him with a mild frown. Up close, Akira noticed details he’d missed before: the fine line of concentration between Tatsuya’s brows, the faint shadow under his eyes—as if he never quite slept.

“Yes?” the taller boy said.

Akira’s rehearsed sentences tangled together. Tell him you believe him. Thank him. Warn him about Mio. The weight of ten stolen years pressed on his tongue.

“I… uh—Good morning,” he finished lamely.

Tatsuya’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite mockery. “Good morning,” he echoed, voice softer than expected.

For one flickering instant Akira saw it: the same gentleness that had shattered when he’d cried over a corpse. His chest tightened.

Before he could find braver words, a trio of classmates swept between them, dragging Tatsuya’s attention away with questions about the upcoming basketball try-outs. Akira stepped back, swallowed the knot in his throat, and let the tide carry his second chance out of reach—for now.

---

Lunchtime Revelations

Akira spent break on the rooftop, wrestling memory against possibility. The distant city skyline looked identical to his first life, but everything beneath it felt re-written.

Mio will walk into that classroom this afternoon. And I’ll smile at her. And the countdown will begin.

No. Not this time.

He gripped the railing. A gust lifted his messy hair; he closed his eyes and pictured tomorrow’s headlines if he did nothing—Tragedy at Twenty-Seven: Orphaned Entrepreneur Dies on Eve of Wedding. The story etched in stone, waiting.

So change it.

A sudden clatter of the door startled him. Tatsuya emerged, bent soda can in hand, evidently seeking solitude of his own. His eyes widened a fraction at finding Akira there first.

“Sorry,” Tatsuya murmured, turning as if to leave.

“Wait.” Akira’s voice held more steel than he felt. “Stay. I… could use the company.”

That earned him a cautious glance. After a moment, Tatsuya stepped forward and leaned against the opposite railing, several feet away—close enough for silence to feel shared.

Wind tousled their hair. Gulls cried somewhere above the sports field. Neither spoke. Yet Akira’s racing thoughts slowed, soothed by the simple fact that Tatsuya remained.

This is the beginning, Akira told himself. Tiny, but real.

---

Afternoon Arrival

The classroom door slid open with theatrical timing. Mio Tachibana entered, sunshine in human form: honey-brown curls, delicate smile, eyes like polished amber. Gasps and whispered admiration rippled through 2-B.

Akira’s stomach flipped—not with love, but with a sharp, sour dread.

She introduced herself confidently. Somewhere behind him, a chair squeaked; Akira knew it was Tatsuya, sitting a little straighter, invisible hackles rising. The memory overlapped in his mind: Tatsuya warning him again and again that something felt off. He’d laughed it off every time.

Mio’s innocent, he’d insisted, right until her poison stopped his heart.

Akira forced a neutral expression as Mio bowed and took the empty seat diagonally in front of him—strategically placed to capture maximum adoration. She glanced back, eyes widening in delight when they met his.

“Hi! You’re… Itsuki-kun, right?”

In the first timeline, his pulse had sprinted. Now, it crawled like a wary animal. “Yeah,” he answered softly. “Welcome.”

Her smile could have melted glaciers. It chilled him to the bone.

Classes dragged. Akira’s thoughts orbited two suns: Protect Tatsuya. Expose Mio. When the final bell rang, he gathered his books and slipped them into his bag, only to find Tatsuya lingering beside his desk.

“I forgot,” the taller boy said, voice low, “Student council posted volunteer sign-ups for the festival. You usually help with decorations, right?”

Akira blinked. He noticed that? “I… yeah, I was thinking about it.”

“Come early tomorrow.” Tatsuya’s thumb brushed an imaginary fleck from his blazer sleeve—a subtle, almost shy gesture. “Hallway bulletin, second floor. I’ll save you a spot.”

He turned before Akira could respond, striding toward the exit. At the door he paused, glancing back just once. A question, a promise, something unsaid flickered in those cool grey eyes.

Akira’s heart lifted. He’s reaching out. Even before everything that will break us, he’s giving me another chance.

“Thank you, Tatsuya,” he called.

Tatsuya nodded—more like a bow of respect than mere acknowledgment—and left.