Cory Sullivan, my ten-year-old son, joins a swimming class organized by his school. A bunch of his fellow students end up pinning him to the drain of the swimming pool.

I spot the streak of red in the water and completely lose my mind. I immediately dash over to save Cory, but by the time I do, his face has turned swollen and blue from the suction. Blood trickles from his mouth. He's no longer breathing.

Andy Webster, the ringleader of the trio who hurt Cory, arrogantly declares that he won't be criminally prosecuted because he's a minor.

"So what if I did it? He started getting on my nerves ages ago! Now that he's dead, no one else can compete with me to be the top in our class."

Andy's father, Greg Thompson, condescendingly throws me a debit card. "There's 100 thousand dollars in there. That should be enough to make up for your son's worthless life."

Outrage, I demand justice, but my wife, Sheryl Lowe, stops me.

"Andy's just a kid himself. Are you going to force someone else's kid to lose his freedom just because your own son is dead?"

I stop at nothing in the pursuit of justice, but Andy simply gets sent to a juvenile detention center. That's nowhere near enough for me.

Eventually, I lose all hope. I lie down at Cory's grave and swallow a bottle of sleeping pills.

Suddenly, my eyes open again. I've returned to the day I took Cory to the swimming pool.

I immediately drag him off to take him back home before anything happens, but alas, a young boy still ends up losing his life at the pool.

I'd left in too much of a hurry earlier with my son, Cory Sullivan, so his clothes and bag were still in the locker room.

I told him to wait in the car while I went back to get his things. I figured I'd also inform the pool staff about the safety issues with the pool.

The moment I stepped into the swimming hall, I heard a burst of laughter.

"Don't you think he looks like a dead fish? Move! Why aren't you moving? Hahahaha—"

The laughter from the three boys was grating on the ears. The tallest one, Andy Webster, had his foot pressed down on a patch of blue beneath the water.

The blue swim trunks—which were the same color as Cory's—and the faint reddish tint spreading through the pool made my heart seize. If I hadn't known for sure that Cory was in the car right now, I wouldn't have been able to face a scene like this again.

In my previous life, Andy had been furious that Cory beat him for first place in school and even did better at swimming class than he did. That was why he attacked Cory.

So who was this boy? And why was Andy doing this to him, too?

I dared not dwell on those questions for too long. My priority was to save the boy, so I shouted sternly, "Hold it right there! What do you think you're doing!"

Seeing me, Andy cocked his brows and slowly took a half-step back.

"Look. The old bastard is here to protect his trash of a son. Guess the fun's over."

The other two boys, Ryan Lewis and Ethan Sloan, jumped back in fright, too afraid to meet my gaze.

Meanwhile, the boy in the pool was caught by the powerful suction. Even though Andy had removed his foot, the boy's face was still pressed against the drain. His limbs drifted limply in the water.

That was how I'd found Cory in my previous life. I'd jumped into the water to save him, but the suction had been too strong. I couldn't even pull him away.

By the time the pool staff rushed over and shut the system down, it was too late to save him. My son had died in my arms.

The boy in front of me wore the same blue swim trunks. With that hair and that build… I kept repeating to myself that this wasn't Cory, who was safe in the car right now. Still, my hands trembled uncontrollably.

Having learned from my previous life, I turned to the staff nearby.

"Why are you just standing there? Can't you see that someone's stuck to the drain? Shut off the system now!"

Only then did the pool manager snap out of his daze and immediately call the control room.

A few minutes later, I lifted the boy's limp body out of the water. His face was swollen and distorted beyond recognition. He wasn't breathing. There was no pulse either.

Andy stood off to the side with his arms crossed. He had a faint smile on his face.

"He's the one who said he could hold his breath for three minutes, Mr. Sullivan. We were just helping him."

"Helping him?" My eyes were red-rimmed as I slapped Andy hard. "You call it helping him when you pin him over the drain?"

Cupping his cheek, Andy glared daggers at me. "We were just playing around! How was I supposed to know he was this weak? How dare you hit me! Do you know who my mom is? I can make your whole family pay for this!"

I knew exactly who his mother was. That was why I wanted nothing more than to rip that look of complete nonchalance right off his face.

For the life of me, I couldn't understand why Lena Webster, Andy's mother, chose to marry a worthless piece of trash like Greg Thompson, who ended up raising their son to be a complete monster even at such a young age.

"You call this playing? Who plays like this? This is murder!"

Ryan, the chubby boy nearby, one of the two who'd been helping Andy, finally seemed to realize the gravity of it. His voice trembled as he asked, "Andy, did we—"

He didn't even finish before Andy cut him off. "What are you trying to say? You were pressing down pretty hard just now, too, weren't you?"

Ethan, the other boy, had already broken down in tears.

"I… I want to go home…"

I couldn't be bothered to pay any attention to them right now. I set the boy down on the floor, performing CPR while instructing the staff to call for an ambulance.

"Quick! Call 911 now! It might not be too late to save him!" I cried out.

As I tilted the boy's chin back to give him CPR, I noticed a star–shaped birthmark behind his ear. It jogged something in my head.

Meanwhile, the swim instructor, Walter Higgins, finally came back in with Greg while exhaling the last smoke ring from his mouth.

When he saw the scene by the swimming pool, he was briefly startled. "W-What's going on?"

Andy immediately put on an innocent expression and ran over to Greg, saying, "We were just competing to see who could hold their breath the longest, Dad. He said he could last three minutes! But in the end…"

"How could you be so reckless!" Walter went pale. "How many times have I told you boys not to enter the water when I'm not around?"

"Sorry, Mr. Higgins. I won't do it again. But it still doesn't give Mr. Sullivan the right to hit me, right?" Andy lowered his head to seem contrite, but I saw him smirking at me.

After seeing how red Andy's cheek was, Greg lashed out at me. "How dare you hit my son!"

He shot a disdainful glance at the boy on the floor and me before continuing, "That boy's the one who broke the rules himself. You're his parent, yet you didn't even keep an eye on him. How can you blame anyone else for what happened?"

In my previous life, the surveillance footage had clearly shown how Cory had simply been warming up by the pool when Andy shoved him in from behind. The three boys had dragged him to the drain and pinned him down.

This boy had probably gone through the same thing Cory had.

I knew far too well the pain of losing a child. No matter who this boy was, he was innocent. My priority was still to save him.

I didn't want to waste any of my breath on Greg. Even as I carried on with the CPR, I looked at Walter.

"Mr. Higgins, you're just as responsible for this incident. You should notify the child's parents first."

Walter's hands fumbled as he pulled out his phone. His voice stuttered. "Y-You're right. I-I'll make the call right away…"

But a few seconds later, he looked at the boy's swollen, distorted face and said, "W-With his face like that, I don't even know who he is…"

I looked up at him, feeling rather speechless. "Don't you know how to check? Which students were supposed to be here today? Just rule them out one by one based on who's absent and who's here. The remaining—"

Andy butted in, "Don't bother. I know who that is."

He walked over and crouched in front of me to stare at the boy's face. He spoke lightly, but the words seemed to ring in my eardrums.

"Isn't this Cory Sullivan? You don't even recognize your own son anymore, Mr. Sullivan? You were so worked up just now, so I thought you knew. Are you just reacting like this now because you're too scared to face the truth?"

My eyes went wide as I stared at him. Did this mean he attacked this boy because he thought it was Cory?

Andy seemed pretty satisfied with my stunned reaction. Noticing that I was still doing CPR, he continued, "Stop wasting your time. Haven't you realized that you've been doing it for 20 minutes now, and he's still not responding at all?

"That's because by the time you saved him, we'd already held him underwater for over ten minutes. It's too late to save him."

All the strength drained out of me. I collapsed onto the floor, my whole body trembling. In the end, it was still too late.

The last time, I'd failed to save Cory. This time, I failed to save this boy.

Staring fixedly at Andy, I growled, "Why did you do this? Aren't you scared of paying for what you've done!"

"Oh, no! I'm so scared!" Andy patted himself on the chest dramatically. "Who's going to make me pay? The law? But I'm only 11 years old. Minors in this country below the age of 13 rarely get criminally prosecuted."

He was so close to me that I could even smell the orange scent of his shampoo. Those words and that tone had been the nightmare that tormented me my entire previous life.

I looked at Andy's face, taking in the malice that poured out of his innocent-looking features. I could no longer suppress the hatred within me that had stewed for two lifetimes now.

Grabbing him by the hair, I dragged him toward the pool, wanting to press him in the water. "Even at this age, you're already so vicious. This time, I'm going to let you get a taste of—"

Greg smashed his car key into my head. The keychain sliced a long gash across my forehead. Once my grip loosened, he pulled Andy behind him.

"Have you lost your mind? What's done is done. Why are you taking it out on a kid, huh? My son is still so young. How could he have known that things could end up this badly? It was just an accident!"

"An accident, you say?" I felt all the blood in my body rush to my head. "Check the surveillance footage yourself! See how the three boys pressed that boy's head against the drain, then tell me whether you still think it's just an accident!"

Greg glanced at Andy, who looked visibly guilty, before slowly pulling out a debit card.

"So what do you want, then? Justice? Well, let me tell you something. In this world, justice favors those who have more money and a higher social status!"

He took a step forward and brandished the card at me, almost poking me in the nose with it. "Do you know who my son is? His mother, Lena Webster, is the only daughter of the chairman of Webster Group!

"As for your son, he's just the child of an ordinary middle-class family. So what if he's dead? Do you expect my son, the heir of a wealthy family, to pay for it with his life?"

Greg threw the card at my face.

"There's 100 thousand dollars in there. The PIN is six eights. Take the money, keep your mouth shut, and give your son a proper funeral. If you dare breathe a word of this to anyone else or call the police, then I guarantee that you and your wife won't even get to work as a janitor in this city!"

Andy peeked out from behind Greg and made a face at me. He didn't show any sign of fear, only smugness.

By now, Walter had wrapped his head around the situation as well.

He didn't want things to blow up either, so he muttered lowly in an attempt to convince me, "Mr. Sullivan, this is just an accident, yeah? Since the other family has decided to settle this matter in private, why don't we all just take a step back and reach a compromise?"

A compromise?

I looked down at the debit card on the floor, then at the boy's cold body. I wanted to laugh. They were reducing the death of a kid to a financial transaction, and they even spoke of it with such nonchalance.

My gaze fell once more on the birthmark behind the boy's ear. Suddenly, I remembered who he was.

If the death of my son, the child of an ordinary family, wasn't worth Andy paying for his crime with his life, then I was going to see how many lives they had to offer to make up for the death of this boy.

Andy was still blabbering away. "Look on the bright side, Mr. Sullivan. It's way better to have money in your hands. Since your son is dead, just have another one."

I slowly raised my head, my eyes settling on his arrogant face. "I'm afraid your mother's money won't be enough this time."

Andy haughtily lifted his chin, declaring, "Say whatever you want. Either way, nothing's going to happen to me. Dad told me that the juvenile justice laws will shield me from everything!"

I gently wiped the blood from the boy's face, my fingertips brushing over that star-shaped birthmark. I took off my jacket to cover him, wanting to preserve the last of his dignity.

"You think you have a shield, huh?" I smirked. "Then you'd better pray that everyone in this society abides by the law."

Greg frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Ignoring him, I got my phone and sent a message. Then, I leaned down and whispered softly into the boy's ear. "Don't be afraid. Your mother will be here soon."

I also called the police.

Sensing that something was up, Greg barked at me, "What the hell do you think you're doing! I'm warning you. You'd better drop this. Let this be the end of it all! If you dare—"