Chapter 3
Da-eun struggled to move, fighting the nausea rising in her throat.
It was the middle of summer break, and the department room was nearly deserted.
She had been waiting here for Hye-young… and must have fallen asleep.
Shhh—
While she slept, someone had turned on a gas burner. Heat shimmered faintly above the flame.
“I have to open the window first…”
She needed to vent the gas that had filled the room. In her previous life, she had rushed to turn off the burner directly—and it had exploded, leaving her with severe burns.
Da-eun tried to push herself up from the couch under the window, but her body felt unbearably heavy.
As she groped around, her hand brushed against her phone.
Summoning every ounce of strength she had, she hurled it toward the window.
Crash!
The thin glass shattered. A rush of cool, fresh air swept into the room. She had to turn off the burner now—that was the real danger.
At that moment—
Bang!
The metal door of the department room burst open. A man rushed in, shielding her with his shirt as he sprinted toward the burner.
He quickly opened the top and disconnected the gas canister. It had to be scorching hot—it could’ve exploded at any second. Who was he…?
From a distance, faint sirens began to wail.
“Let’s get out of here.”
A familiar, slightly breathless voice.
Ah, right. She remembered now—it was Yoon Ju-hyuk, her senior from the film department.
Da-eun focused her eyes to see him clearly.
“This won’t do. I’ll carry you.”
When Da-eun couldn’t stand, he lifted her onto his back and hurried out of the room. The sirens grew louder, closer.
By the time they reached the first floor, an ambulance had arrived. Paramedics were setting up a stretcher when they spotted them.
“Are you the one who called?”
“Yes. There was almost a gas accident in the acting department room on the third floor.”
Yes, Yoon Ju-hyuk.
He had been the one who reported the incident in her previous life too—but back then, it had already exploded. What was different this time?
Maybe he heard the glass shatter? Then what about the ambulance—how did it arrive so fast?
“We’ll check the third floor. Get the patient to the hospital.”
Rattle, rattle—
Da-eun was lifted onto the stretcher and placed inside the ambulance. The hiss of oxygen filled her ears as a monitor beeped steadily beside her.
The ambulance sped out of the campus gates.
Warmth lingered against her hand—Ju-hyuk’s touch.
Ah… at least she avoided burning her face this time.
Beep, beep, beep.
The steady rhythm of the machine and her easing breath lulled Da-eun into sleep.
A few hours later, a police officer conducting the investigation scribbled lazily in his notebook.
“So, you fell asleep waiting for a friend, and when you woke up, the burner was on?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t see who turned it on?”
Da-eun, sitting on a hospital bed with an IV in her wrist, nodded faintly. The officer glanced up at her briefly, then asked,
“You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you?”
The exact same question as before.
Da-eun frowned, but the officer only jotted notes, insisting it was a routine question.
Should she have told him she saw Hye-young?
The thought crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. There was no proof.
“All right then,” the officer said, nodding half-heartedly before leaving the room.
Da-eun sighed and looked around.
Other patients scattered throughout the ER glanced at her before looking away.
Outside the window, cicadas buzzed loudly.
Her reflection in the glass showed no trace of burn scars. When she tucked her long hair behind her ear, her smooth, unblemished skin caught the light.
Ah, really… to live again with a clean face like this. Her lips trembled, then curved into a faint smile.
Suddenly, Da-eun recalled the voice she’d heard when she died.
[I’ll give you a chance too. Fairness demands it. I’ll turn back your time.]
Do all people who die get a chance like this? She wasn’t sure, but returning to the past surely wasn’t ordinary.
There had been a price too.
[Take this. Oh… so your largest piece was ‘—’.]
What had it taken from her? The voice had blurred before she could hear.
Who—or what—was that being?
She didn’t know, but Da-eun was grateful for the chance.
In her previous life, Noh Hye-young had burned her face and stolen every opportunity. This time, Da-eun would steal Hye-young’s.
She touched her left cheek carefully—the one once ruined by burns.
As she felt heat rise in her chest, she tried to calm herself.
Then—
“You’re awake.”
Yoon Ju-hyuk.
Her senior in the film department—who, before her regression, became the youngest director ever to win both Best Director and Best Screenplay at one of the world’s top three film festivals.
His directing style was sharp and sophisticated, earning admiration from audiences and critics alike.
Maybe that was why—even when he harshly scolded staff or actors—no one ever complained. The results always justified his perfectionism.
He walked closer, scanning her up and down, then exhaled in relief.
“You look okay.”
“Thanks to you, sunbae. You saved me.”
If not for him, she might have flailed helplessly in the gas and suffered the same fate as before.
“But… how did you know about the accident?”
It was strange. They weren’t even from the same department—how had he known to show up at that exact moment?
Avoiding her gaze, Ju-hyuk shrugged lightly.
“I was passing by. Smelled gas, then heard glass shattering from the acting department room.”
His voice was gentle—so unlike the cold, reserved man she remembered. His worried eyes, too.
Why was he being so kind?
Was he ever like this before? No—he had been quiet, even distant.
Da-eun studied him quietly.
Even now—or in her past life—he could have been an actor with that perfectly sculpted face. His strong brows, usually set in seriousness, softened as he smiled.
When she nodded, another question occurred to her.
“Then when did you call the ambulance? It arrived almost at the same time you did.”
If it had shown up that quickly, he must have reported it at least ten minutes earlier. Puzzled, she tilted her head.
“It wasn’t that fast. I was surprised too—it came in the blink of an eye.”
“What?”
She frowned, but he only smiled and pulled something from his pocket.
Her phone—its screen completely shattered.
“Oh! That’s mine!”
She reached for it, but he drew his hand back slightly, looking at her.
He’d been watching her eyes—intently, almost piercingly. The faint smile on his face gave nothing away.
“…?”
When she hesitated, he slowly placed the phone in her palm.
“Careful—it’s sharp.”
Her phone was truly in pieces.
She’d have to throw it away and buy a new one. She pressed the power button carefully—no response.
Well, it had fallen from the third floor after breaking a window. It would’ve been stranger if it still worked.
Wait a second.
“Did you… go back to the school just to find this?”
Da-eun looked up in surprise. He nodded lightly. It was just a useless lump of metal now, but she was grateful.
“…Thank you.”
They’d ridden in the same ambulance, but when she woke up, he was gone. She had assumed he’d left. Why had he come back?
They’d worked together on an indie film a few months ago, but they weren’t close enough for him to go this far.
Ju-hyuk said nothing, just looked at her. Yes—this was the Yoon Ju-hyuk she remembered. Quiet. Reserved. No soft words.
“Your hand—are you okay?”
She nodded toward his bandaged fingers.
He must have burned them handling the hot gas burner.
He’d probably gotten treated after bringing her here.
“It’s nothing,” he said, slipping the injured hand into his pocket.
“You should be able to leave soon.”
As he turned to go, he paused and glanced back.
“Good luck at your audition tomorrow.”
Da-eun’s eyes widened.
The audition!
Only then did the reality of her return sink in. There had been no explosion, no burn scars—she could still go.
“Yes!”
Her cheeks flushed with excitement. Watching her, Ju-hyuk smiled faintly before walking away.
Outside the ER, he stopped for a long moment, murmuring to himself.
“I thought I knew everything about you.”
No one heard the cryptic words.
He just stood there, lost in thought, letting the relief of her survival wash over him.
The next day.
Da-eun arrived at the building where the auditions for the film Secret Letter were being held.
It was because of this audition—because of this movie—that Hye-young had burned her face.
“About Secret Letter—I wanted that role. But since I couldn’t win against you…”
The echo of Hye-young’s voice lingered in her ears, carrying the faint scent of the hospital.
