The Best of Tomorrow-Chapter 3.1: The Lost World – 1

Seon-jae is alive.

My nose tingled. I buried my face in the blanket and sobbed, “Ueung... Seon-jae’s alive...” when I heard a loud thumping noise from somewhere.

I froze, lifting my head.

Had I imagined it?

Just as I strained to listen, someone knocked on the door.

I held my breath and stared toward the front door.

“I know you’re in there.”

I jumped up from the bed. Something thudded to the floor—

The pocket watch.

Which meant the person outside was its rightful owner.

As the realization set in, goosebumps crawled over my skin. A wave of fear followed.

Clutching the pocket watch, I stood in front of the front door. I pressed my ear to the cold metal, trying to catch the sound of the person outside.

“...Did she die?” I heard a quiet murmur, followed by a rustling noise.

Wait, you can die from this?! My eyes widened—

Then my phone rang loudly.

I snapped my head back toward the room.

Holding my breath, I listened as the ringtone continued to blare.

Knock, knock. Another knock at the door.

My head turned back toward the door again.

“Answer it.”

The person must’ve heard the phone ringing inside.

I rushed into my room and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?”

— Hurry up. We don’t have time.

“I’ll give it to you, I will...”

But I couldn’t just open the door to a stranger. This was a woman living alone, after all.

There wasn’t even a milk slot or a peephole. Not even a safety latch.

That’s when I spotted the shopping bag on the floor.

“Don’t stand in front of my door. Go wait at the main building entrance.”

— ...What?

“If you go downstairs, I’ll give it to you.”

— What are you talking about? Seriously.

“Hurry. I’m hanging up.”

I ended the call and picked up the shopping bag.

Worried the pocket watch might shatter if dropped, I wrapped it inside a pair of fuzzy socks drying on the rack. I tied off the sock’s opening with a rubber band and tucked it into the shopping bag.

Then I grabbed some discarded ribbon, tied it to the bag’s handle to extend the length, and fastened the other end securely.

Quietly, I opened the window and peeked out.

The watch’s owner stood below, arms crossed, glaring up at me with a very displeased expression.

“I... I’m lowering it now.”

“Wait, hold on—!”

As I lowered the bag outside the window, the person shouted in panic.

“What are you doing? Are you kidding me?!”

“The watch is fine! I wrapped it safely. Just take it.”

Slowly, I unrolled the ribbon and let the bag descend.

The person below looked utterly flabbergasted and muttered, “Wow... this is insane...” as they got into position to catch the bag falling from the third floor.

Just as the ribbon nearly reached the ground, it slipped from my fingers—

The person below caught the bag.

I peeked out over the window frame.

He looked into the bag and scowled up at me.

“What the—are these socks?”

I quickly ducked down like a startled mole.

When it got quiet again, I peeked back out.

He was wiping the pocket watch clean with his sleeve.

“Excuse me,” I called out softly.

He looked up.

“How did you find me in the past?”

He slipped the watch into his pocket.

“You left a comment on a game forum asking about the pocket watch.”

“...What?”

“I searched your username and saw a post about selling concert tickets. Your phone number was there. I took a chance and contacted you. That’s all.”

He bent down to pick up the shopping bag from the ground.

“So... are you a time traveler too? Did you come from the future?”

He folded the bag in half and looked back up at me.

“I’m not a time traveler... hmm.”

He paused, as if thinking. Then gave a crooked little smile.

“Let’s just say... the god of fate sent me.”

“...Huh?”

He didn’t answer.

Just turned and walked away.

It was so dark, it felt like the road itself was swallowing his figure.

□ ■ □

I shut the window and slumped on the bed.

“The god of fate sent me”...

Well, if time travel was already on the table, maybe that wasn’t so hard to believe.

I picked up my phone and opened a browser to see if he really could find me like he said.

When I searched time traveler’s pocket watch, tons of forum posts came up.

One title caught my eye: Please tell me how to get the time traveler’s pocket watch.

I clicked.

It was a simple question post.

Scrolling down, I found a reply from someone with the username Run Away with Seon-jae on Your Back.

...Oh my god.

The question category was set to “Games.”

How had I not seen this before?

Back then, I’d posted it anonymously, so I had to fill in a nickname—and I’d typed Run Away with Seon-jae on Your Back.

Even though it was labeled as an answer, it basically was a question too. I’d written that I picked up the pocket watch on the street. That must’ve tipped them off.

Back when I last checked, there’d only been one reply.

Now there were tons. I opened the comments out of curiosity.

[Here on a sacred pilgrimage.]

[This person knew about Seon-jae’s debut before it happened.]

[Please bless me with a winning lottery ticket.]

[Is this Ryu Seon-jae himself? 😂😂😂 Did he message a fan to reclaim his username? Told her to give it back? LOL]

[I came from the future.]

Something felt... weird.

“Run Away with [Someone] on Your Back” was a fairly common kind of username.

Even if the post was made before Seon-jae debuted, it shouldn’t have gotten this much attention.

I searched the username in a new tab.

My face twisted as I read the search results.

There were controversy posts.

One of them was titled: Idol sends fan a private message on their fan café.

I clicked in.

Attached was a screenshot.

The sender’s username: PotatoPancake_RyuSeonjae.

The message? Just one word: Hey.

The fan had messaged back multiple times, but no reply came.

Still, the fan was thrilled—“This is really Ryu Seon-jae, right? Omg”—and posted it online.

The fan community, dubbed Potato War and Potato Battle, spread it like wildfire.

Post titles accused him of harassing fans or abusing his power.

Judging by the dates, this happened a year ago.

Flared up briefly, then died down.

But... that wasn’t me.

Frowning, I lifted my head.

Something felt missing.

Was it... my heart?

No—my eyes widened.

“What the...?”

I jumped up and stepped toward the wall.

It was blank.

The posters, slogans, and photo cards that had once covered the wall—

All of Seon-jae—

Gone.

I turned to the bookshelf.

The Potato Pancakes’ mini albums, regular albums—

They were supposed to be neatly arranged by release date.

Gone.

A heavy thud rang ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) in my head.

Seon-jae being alive meant his future had changed.

And the fact that all traces of him were gone from my room—

Meant my future had changed too.

What... what kind of cruel joke was this?

I braced myself on the desk, trying to recall my memories.

I couldn’t even remember my college admission day—

Why would I remember high school so clearly?

As I flipped through recent memories, I remembered Hyeon-joo contacting me the day Seon-jae’s article broke.

It was late, but this wasn’t the time to worry about what was “too late.”

I picked up my phone and found Hyeon-joo’s number.

I hit the call button.

The long ringing stopped, and her voice came through.

— Hello?

I’d expected her to sound sleepy—

But contrary to that, her background was full of noise.

“Hyeon-joo.”

— Yeah. Sol-ah.

“You know Potato Pancakes, right? The idol group.”

— Yeah. Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden?

“Have I ever told you anything about Ryu Seon-jae?”

Noise crackled through the line. Hyeon-joo must’ve been moving to a quieter spot because she said, “Hold on,” and the background slowly faded.

— Ryu Seon-jae?

“Yeah. Do you remember him?”

— Wasn’t he the guy who kept coming to see you back in senior year?

“......”

Oh my god. What do I do? I don’t remember that at all.

— You and your mom even went to a shaman’s place because of him. She thought you were possessed.

“......”

For a second, I nearly spat the juice in my mouth all over my phone like some soap opera actress. I almost screamed into the receiver, “Tell me that’s not true!” and shook Hyeon-joo—who wasn’t even here—by the collar.

“...I did that?”

— Yeah.

“You’re serious?”

— I think he called you something weird—like Chun-shim? Chun-baek? Something like that. And you said you didn’t remember a bunch of things. There were strange objects at your place too. You were so shaken up that your mom was about to call a shaman for a ritual, but your dad found out and stopped her. Don’t you remember? That whole huge mess? Your mom was convinced you were possessed by some ghost named Chun-baek and started throwing red beans and salt all over the house.

I clapped a hand over my mouth.

— What? Is your body feeling weird again?

“No, no. It’s not that.”

— If anything feels off, go to the hospital right away, okay?!

Hyeon-joo sounded genuinely worried.

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

I hung up and sat in a daze—then suddenly bolted out of the house. I ran in the direction the watch’s owner had disappeared.

Hey, Mister Pocket Watch! Let me use it just one more time!

I ran blindly, not knowing if I was cutting through the darkness or being swallowed by it.

After a while, I came to a stop. The watch’s owner was nowhere in sight. Just a quiet, empty street.

It felt like I’d fallen into some foreign world. Even though this was supposed to be my timeline, it felt like I’d come to the wrong one.

Just minutes ago, I’d talked to Seon-jae on the phone.

He told me he liked me.

To me, it was just a few minutes ago.

But here... it was a memory from years back.

My heart still raced when I thought of him.

The time I spent with him felt like it existed in another world entirely—

And now, having returned to the present, it was as if I’d lost that world completely.

The dawn wind was cold.

In this place where years had passed, I wondered how Seon-jae remembered me—if he remembered me at all.

I tilted my head back and stared up at the pitch-black sky.

As I let out a short sigh, my breath curled in the air.

□ ■ □

My hand kept missing my chin as I tried to lean on it.

Somehow, my hand and face just weren’t syncing up.

I let out a frustrated breath.

I’d only meant to stop in for some kimchi udon and maybe a bottle of soju,

but here I was, two bottles deep at this tiny neighborhood bar.

I was never one to curse, except at the people who left nasty comments about Seon-jae.

But every time I tipped back a glass, a string of swear words came flying out.

The owner glanced at me uneasily as I swung between rage and tears—

cussing with my eyes wide open, then crying, then crying even more when the tears dried.

There wasn’t a single other customer,

and the look on his face screamed please leave already.

“One dried pollack, please.”

“Dried... dried pollack?”

“Yes.”

He sighed audibly and trudged off to grill it.

Honestly, I thought I was handling my drunkenness pretty well,

but he seemed really stingy about it.

I refilled my glass.

The emotion was ridiculous—

Ever since I came back to my own time,

I felt like I’d been dumped by Seon-jae in the most dramatic way.

Even though that had never happened.

My heart felt just as wrecked.

And now, Seon-jae wasn’t someone I could just reach out to.

Even though I couldn’t stop him from joining Potato Pancakes as their fifth member,

he was still a celebrity.

Still got bashed online as “the leftover charcoal,”

but a celebrity all the same.

“I miss you... I miss you so much...”

Of course, that was when Kim Bum-soo’s “I Miss You” started playing from the speaker near the counter.

The bar owner, probably hearing me sing along miserably, turned the song off and switched to the radio.

A not-so-subtle please stop singing.

Mean.

I crossed my arms and rested them on the table, staring down at my half-full glass.

Seon-jae’s face floated in the clear soju.

“You’re still amazing... I’m really, truly happy that you’re alive...”

But it just made things harder for me.

Seon-jae...

I sighed and traced the rim of my glass.

Just as I was about to raise it to my lips—

A familiar voice came through the radio.

— So, how long did each of you train before debut? Who trained the longest?

— Ah, Seong-jun joined the company first. Then Hyeon-seong, then me, and the next year, In-hyeok and Seon-jae joined.

— But since Seon-jae joined in the middle, doesn’t that mean his trainee period was the longest?

“Yes, that’s right,” Seon-jae’s voice replied, laughing softly.

My hand trembled. The soju spilled over the rim.

I set the glass down quickly and wiped my hand on my pants.

— What was the hardest part of training for you, Seon-jae?

He hesitated, dragging out his voice with a soft “Um...”

That voice—

That particular tone—

Hit me right in the chest.

It reminded me of his “Gamgam Bridge” story, which I’d heard through radio before.

The scenery we looked at together.

The song we shared through a split pair of earphones.

— I don’t think there was one.

— Really?

— Nah. He really struggled back in senior year. He used to carry around this beat-up MP3 player. Had it in his ears all the time, looking like someone who’d lived through the end of the world.

Seo Yun-jae’s comment made everyone laugh.

...That beat-up thing.

I turned toward the speaker, as if Seon-jae were right there inside it.

Their voices continued to pour out.

— But Seon-jae doesn’t even look like someone from the MP3 generation.

He let out an awkward chuckle. The DJ quickly jumped in with another question to fill the silence.

— What song did you listen to the most back then, Seon-jae?

— Song?

— Yeah. You looked like you carried the weight of the world, so I’m curious what you were listening to.

The bar owner set my dried pollack on the table, giving me a weird look for not facing the food.

— I listened to Lee Moon-sae sunbaenim’s Only Her Laughter. A lot.

— Oh, I love that song too. Can we hear a line? Just one?

Seon-jae stammered, “Right now?”

The DJ led a round of applause.

After a few seconds, the room went quiet.

Seon-jae cleared his throat.

The producer must’ve turned on the echo for his mic.

“I’ll try a little,” he said quietly.

— As I walk through the day, thinking only of you,

The sky above me is still blue,

Though the clouds drift silently by...

He seemed to glance around nervously as he continued,

his voice whisper-soft:

— Do I really have to leave like this?

What did you say to me back then...?

A tear rolled down.

The bar owner stared at me—crying, not even touching my food.

His expression said: This job is exhausting.

Sir... I’m exhausted too.

I turned my body and downed the rest of the soju in one go.

Drip, drip—my tears didn’t stop.

At this rate, I could probably fill the entire glass with tears alone.

The song Seon-jae had just sung...

Was on the MP3 I gave him.

Maybe it was coincidence.

But it made me unbearably sad.

Just imagining Seon-jae in that other timeline—

Listening to the song I gave him—

Living in the world I’d left behind—

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of time he was living now.

I clenched my teeth and let out a shaky breath.

Ryu Seon-jae...

I wanted to call out his name,

But it had become something I could no longer say aloud.

“Ueung... Pocket watch...”

Since I couldn’t cry for Seon-jae,

I cried for the pocket watch instead.