I was awakened by a gentle breeze brushing against my face. The cool air carried the faint scent of damp grass and soil, making me shiver as I slowly opened my eyes. Above me stretched an endless sky, pale blue with streaks of drifting clouds.
When I sat up, confusion struck me like a hammer, I realized I had no idea where I was. I found myself lying in the middle of a wide grassland, surrounded by trees that swayed quietly in the wind.
"Where… am I?" I muttered.
There were no familiar walls, no creaky fan humming in the corner, no low wooden table where I usually tossed the TV remote and left my dinner leftovers. My cramped little apartment had vanished as if it never existed.
I looked down at myself and froze. An elegant long white robe with gold embroidered wrapped around my body, its fine stitching glinting faintly in the sunlight. It looked like something a prince or noble would wear in those fantasy romance anime ads I always scrolled past online. Draped over my shoulders was a long black cloak—thick and heavy.
The toned muscles I had from hard labor were gone—replaced by skinny clean white hand.
My hands trembled as I touched my own face, brushing against my hair. I turned left and right, desperately searching for a stream, a pond, anything that could reflect my face back to me.
But there was nothing—only endless green grass and towering trees.
Panic surged through me. I wasn't supposed to be here.
A few hours earlier....
The sky was already dim when I stepped out of the factory gates.
The damp night air carried the sharp scent of wet asphalt, a reminder of the rain that had just ended.
After buying dinner from closest supermarket, In my hand dangled a thin plastic bag with the same cheap dinner I always bought after coming back from work.
'Tomorrow will be the same. As dull as yesterday'
My steps were heavy, as if my body itself resisted moving forward. Each payday, my money vanished into rent, electricity, and transportation. Whatever remained barely kept me fed. Even if I tried savings it felt like a joke. My life was nothing but survival, a routine with no direction, no future only meaningless existence.
I was only twenty, but it already felt like I'd hit a dead end in life.
Day after day at the factory, earning minimum wage, stuck in a job that anyone could take over tomorrow without a second thought.
People called this age "youth"
But for me, there was nothing young about it. Only exhaustion.
His footsteps echoed softly against the narrow sidewalk. The street was quiet, broken only by the occasional growl of a passing vehicle, its exhaust fading into the night air. He walked with his head lowered, lost in his thoughts, until a faint glow caught his eye from the right side of the road.
In front of a small shop, odd and neglected items were displayed on a worn wooden table. A cracked radio. Stacks of cassette tapes without cases. Rusted scraps of metal. Piles of faded books and tattered magazines.
But his gaze stopped at one object.
An old game console.
Its design was plain, dust clinging to every corner. The cables were carelessly coiled around it, as if abandoned long ago.
He froze in place. For a moment, his mind drifted back to his high school days—days when his classmates would laugh together, their voices brimming with excitement as they shared stories of their favorite games.
He had only been an outsider then, sitting silently, listening from a distance. Never truly a part of their world.
Back then, he could only wish.
'If only I were like them'
He wanted to understand what made them laugh so freely, what gave them that kind of joy—so vivid and overwhelming that the real world itself seemed too small to contain it.
He wanted to feel it too.
To understand that joy.
Just once, he wanted to stand within that circle of laughter—not remain a silent spectator from the outside.
After lingering in silence for a moment, he let out a quiet sigh. With hesitant steps, he crossed the street and walked to the shop, pushed open the shop's glass door. The small bell hanging above chimed softly, marking his arrival.
Behind the counter, a middle-aged man glanced up, his tired eyes carrying a faint trace of warmth.
"Looking for something?" he asked flatly.
The young man hesitated, pointing toward the console outside. "That… does it still work?"
The shopkeeper lifted his eyes to the item, a shoulder in half-shrug, then he said. "Should still run. But you can't keep it on too long, or it'll overheat. If I'm not mistaken, there's already a cartridge inside, so you can play it right away. Games for that console are rare now, finding another cartridge would be nearly impossible."
He fell silent, weighing the man's words.
Slowly, his hand slipped into his pocket, brushing against the worn leather of his wallet.
It should be fine to splurge a little… right?
I've never even tried playing before. Just something small, something to lighten the nights after work.
His mind scrambled for excuses, anything to justify a purchase he already knew was unnecessary.
After handing over a few bills, the old console was wrapped clumsily in a thin plastic bag. It felt strange—carrying something he bought not out of necessity, but out of a reckless desire to soothe an old yearning from his school days.
The first "luxury" he had ever purchased.
His steps on the way home felt lighter, though uncertainty still gnawed at him. He had just spent his little money he had on a secondhand relic that might not even work. Yet amidst the worry, there was a flicker of something else—excitement, curiosity, and the faint thrill of anticipation.
With a quickening pace, he walked home, clutching the console as if it were something precious.
Like innocent child who excited about his new toys.