Haru lies back, clutching his phone, his gaze drifting from the glowing screen to a poster of Jake—the K-pop idol he admires most. The room hums with the energy of distant applause, yet here, all is quiet except for his whispered wishes. "If only I could be like him… just for one day," he murmurs, voice barely audible above the melody.
Haru[/@ch_1]'s body. The rain intensifies, punctuating the moment with nature’s drumbeat.]
A dizzying sensation overtakes Haru; his vision blurs, the posters spin, and the world itself feels as if it's folding in on him. He squeezes his eyes shut, heart racing, clutching Jake’s poster as if it’s a lifeline. The glow brightens, then—sudden silence.
Haru awakens, disoriented, to unfamiliar surroundings. He sits up, noticing the strength and length of his limbs—he’s older, different. He stumbles to a mirror and stares, wide-eyed, at the reflection of Jake staring back. "No way… Is this really me?" he whispers, touching his face in disbelief.
Haru, still inside Jake’s body, fumbles as he’s ushered onto the dance floor. The other idols greet him warmly, but he feels the pressure of expectations. "Remember the new routine, Jake! Big performance tonight," a staff member calls. Anxiety grips him—he’s spiritually thirteen, in a twenty-one-year-old idol’s world.
Haru stands frozen for a moment, blinded by the lights, heart pounding. The music starts, and instinct takes over—he dances, not perfectly, but with raw enthusiasm and the sincerity of someone living his dream. The audience senses something genuine, cheering even louder. "Thank you… thank you so much!" he shouts, voice cracking with emotion.
Haru[/@ch_1] sits alone, sweat-soaked and breathless. The dressing room is quiet, bathed in soft blue light, trophies glinting like distant stars.]
He clutches his phone, looking at a message from his old self—somehow, a bridge between worlds. "Dreams are powerful, but being yourself is even stronger," he reflects, tears glistening. In this surreal moment, he understands that his wish brought more than fame—it taught him the value of his own spirit, no matter the body he’s in.
