There is no choice without regret. It must be so.
A man relives the same day for the 58th time, finding a mysterious train ticket that hints at escape from his loop.
This is an English translation of a story originally written in Korean by the
Hwasee.bang community, one sentence at a time.
Each sentence was submitted separately and chosen by community vote before the next one could be written. Nobody knew how it would end.
Read the Korean original →
Each sentence was submitted separately and chosen by community vote before the next one could be written. Nobody knew how it would end.
Read the Korean original →
I am living through July 15th, 2026, for the fifty-eighth time today.
Every day after midnight, everything reverts to the day before, but this diary alone remains unchanged.
That dawn, a wet train ticket fell from between the pages of the diary.
If I go to this place, won't something change?
I went to the station written on the ticket and waited half a day to board the train.
The train written on the ticket truly stopped at the station, but I was the only passenger boarding it.
The engineer looked at me, sighed, and said, "Hey, you took this train yesterday too."
This is a finished translation and can't be continued here.
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Hwasee.bang's English edition runs its own separate relay stories that are being written right now — visit the English edition to read or join one.