Arin sat at his small desk, head resting on his hands, staring at the stack of papers in front of him. He had spent the last three hours trying to finish a report for work, double-checking every number and every word, yet the nagging feeling in his chest told him it wouldn't matter. Even when he gave his best, it never seemed enough.
Life had taught him that lesson early. At school, he had stayed up late every night, practicing problems, memorizing facts, trying to get ahead—but the top students always pulled further away. No matter how hard he studied, he remained somewhere in the middle, neither failing nor excelling.
After graduation, the pattern continued. At his office, Arin arrived early and stayed late. He volunteered for extra tasks, completed every assignment carefully, and double-checked every detail. Still, his bosses barely noticed him. Promotions went to those with natural talent or charisma. Co-workers with easier smiles or louder voices seemed to advance faster. The harder Arin worked, the more invisible he felt.
Even at home, things were no better. His parents tried to encourage him, but there was always that quiet disappointment in their eyes, the unspoken words: You're doing your best, but is it really enough?
He rubbed his eyes and glanced out the window. The streets outside were alive with people who seemed to succeed effortlessly. They had gifts, connections, or charm that made life easier. Arin envied them, not in a jealous way, but in a tired, resigned way. He had always believed that hard work could overcome talent—but reality had shown him otherwise. Effort had limits, and Arin had reached his.
He picked up his pen again and tried to write, but the words refused to come. Every idea felt flat, every sentence meaningless. He had spent years pushing himself, chasing improvement, yet the results always lagged behind. The exhaustion of trying, failing, and trying again weighed heavily on him. It wasn't just physical tiredness—it was the mental ache of knowing that no matter what he did, the world wouldn't see him.
It was in that quiet, frustrated moment, as he stared at the blank page, that a voice appeared in his mind—soft, calm, yet undeniable.
"Do you want to restart your life?"
Arin froze. He looked around his small apartment, expecting someone to be there, but it was empty. It had to be his imagination.
"Do you want to restart your life?"
The words repeated, clearer this time. Arin felt a shiver run down his spine. He had spent so long working, struggling, giving everything he had, only to be invisible. And now, a voice was asking him a question that seemed impossible.
He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right… restart my life. Like that could ever happen."
"Do you want to restart your life?"
The voice was insistent. It didn't wait for denial or doubt. Somehow, it felt different from everything else—a chance. Arin had dreamed of success so many times, fought so hard and failed so often, that his heart longed for something impossible.
Without thinking, he whispered, "Yes. I want to restart my life."
The moment he spoke, the room seemed to shift. The air felt heavier, warmer, and a small, glowing interface appeared in front of him. Words blinked softly:
"Restart System Activated. Your life can now be restarted. All actions performed will be recorded as skills. Do you accept?"
Arin's hands shook. He stared at the screen, unsure if he was dreaming. His life had always been ordinary, filled with struggle and effort that no one acknowledged. Yet here it was—a chance to turn even that effort into something meaningful.
He nodded. "I accept."
A soft glow surrounded him, and for the first time in years, Arin felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: possibility. The exhaustion, the frustration, the constant battle to be noticed—all of it seemed to hold a new promise.
For the first time, the countless hours of struggle didn't feel wasted. They might finally count for something.
And deep down, Arin knew this was only the beginning.