Dreams are Beautiful, aren't they?
We humans dream of becoming our ideal selves. We’re inspired by the people we admire—whether they’re fictional characters or real-life heroes.
I remember reading a Justice League comic with Dad. Batman and Wonder Woman were chasing down Joker and Gorilla Grodd. In the end, they defeated them together. I looked up at Dad and said, “They’re so cool. Especially Wonder Woman—she’s amazing! I want to be like her!”
But then I asked, “Why do villains even show up? Why can’t they just be good? Why do they always want to ruin everything?”
Dad didn’t answer right away. He sighed, as if those words held weight too heavy for me to understand. After a pause, he finally said,
“Because they have regrets. They failed to become their ideal selves. Their crushed ambitions twisted them. They were once good too... but look what their regrets made them.”
Back then, I didn’t understand his words. I was just a kid, caught up in Wonder Woman’s lasso and bravery. I wanted to become a bold and fearless woman like her.
Well, I hoped that would be my future. But as they say, life rarely goes as planned.
It was Monday. 6:00 A.M.
A loud yawn escaped me. Then—crack! My back.
“Ugh, stupid bed… my back,” I groaned. Still half-asleep, I shuffled to the bathroom, wiped the steam from the mirror, and stared at my reflection.
A 50-year-old woman looked back at me. Wrinkles traced my face, dull black hair clung to my scalp, and hazel eyes stared tiredly through the mirror. This woman… was full of regret—the regret of not living the life she truly wanted, of being overworked and undervalued.
To escape this grey reality, I often disappeared into my imagination—where I was a hero. Strong. Bold. Surrounded by luck and happiness. A woman who toyed with her enemies and always won.
Just like always, I taught my English class. And just like always, a few students had something to say.
“This is so dumb,” Mike complained. “Why do we need to study English? It’s our mother tongue! We speak it at home every day!”
I replied calmly, “Because you’ll need it for your future.”
But he snapped, “This is stupid. I’m American. I can already speak English. You don’t need to teach me. I know my rights. I’ll study what I want.”
Then Steve stood up, “Yeah! We watch comedy shows, the news, we play games—we don’t need this boring subject. And the way you teach sucks.”
He looked me dead in the eye and said, “You smile too much. Act all friendly. You look more like a scammer—or some fresh grad with no experience.”
Sarah and a few others tried to calm him down, but he kept going. Loud. Disrespectful. Insulting.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. My breath was heavy. My blood was boiling. Not even the busy streets of New York could distract me from the pain.
Their words pierced me like bullets.
I made it back to my apartment, collapsed onto my bed, and cried. Tears flowed. My heart… shattered.
I just wanted to escape. To be her. My ideal self. The one with no regrets. The hero who laughed in the face of enemies. The woman wrapped in admiration and light. Wonder Woman. Miss Marvel. Those faces that bring hope when they appear.
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I wanted that.
I’d tried. I once applied to the military—rejected. Then again—rejected. I tried the police. The fire department. Rejected. Again and again.
And so, I became a teacher. A job I hated. A life that drained me. Everyone—friends, family—kept saying the same thing:
“Get a job. Get married. Settle down.”
No one really saw me. No one cared.
Time passed. My dreams faded. I became nothing more than a tired, broke 50-year-old English teacher—with only fantasies to keep me alive.
To numb the pain, I turned on the TV. Wonder Woman vs Ares. The hundredth time I’d seen it. Still… it calmed me.
Watching her fight, I saw myself in her. I wanted to be her.
Later that night, I picked up my favorite Heroes vs Villains novel. Even as an adult, comics and stories made me feel alive. I whispered to myself:
“I wish… I could wake up tomorrow and become like them.”
I knew it was impossible. But I said it anyway. A tiny prayer to a silent sky.
Then I fell asleep.
6:00 A.M.
My alarm rang again.
My back ached. Again.
I shuffled to the mirror. Same old 50-year-old woman. Same face. Same dull eyes.
Different day. Same routine. Go to school. Teach. Smile. Get mocked. Return home. Escape into fantasy.
Repeat. Until death.
I sighed and walked to school. Greeted other teachers. Reached my classroom door—just a few steps away.
Before opening it, I closed my eyes.
“Please,” I whispered. “Let today be different.”
BOOM.
The ground shook violently.
An earthquake?!
I fell—then the ground cracked open beneath me. I screamed as I plummeted into darkness.
Pain exploded through my back as I landed. “OW! This isn’t what I meant by different!”
Dizzy and disoriented, I looked around. A cave. Lit by fire torches. I grabbed one and began walking.
Up ahead—light.
I crept closer and found a campfire. Goblins. Eating… human limbs.
I froze. One of them ripped apart a man—he screamed in agony. I screamed too.
They heard me.
They saw me.
I ran.
My heart thundered. My legs moved on instinct. I spotted a strange neon reddish-green light glowing in the cave’s corner and bolted toward it. But my foot slipped—I tumbled forward, rolling painfully into a small chamber.
A goblin threw an axe—it missed, hitting a support beam. The ceiling collapsed behind me, crushing the goblins.
I got up, bruised, clothes torn. The glowing light came from a crystal.
I approached it—mesmerized.
It pulsed like it was alive. My hand reached out, unable to resist.
ZAP!
Lightning coursed through my body. I screamed—the pain was unbearable. My eyes burned.
But I wasn’t ready to die.
I forced my hand away. The crystal shattered—its shards dissolving into my skin. A strange mark burned onto my left hand.
I blacked out.
When I came to, I clutched my head, dizzy. The crystal was gone.
On the ground—I saw a stone axe. I picked it up.
Suddenly—a glowing screen appeared in front of me.
Status: Kim Park | Level 1 | Title: Amateur
Skill: The More, The Merrier
Special Title: Seed of Gluttony
What did it mean?
Another screen popped up. A quest.
[Objective: Defeat the Goblin King]
[Reward: 1000 XP | Unlock Evolution]
I walked deeper into the cave. Then—I heard a sound.
A goblin.
I tried to hide. Failed.
Cornered.
I had no choice. I fought back.
Strangely, the goblin’s movements seemed… slow.
I swung the axe—again, again. It died.
Warmth surged through me. I felt… amazing. Alive.
The status screen appeared. My stats doubled.
More goblins came. I was still trapped.
But something inside me changed. I fought.
One by one, they fell. With each kill—more warmth. More power.
I leveled up. From 3. To 4. To 5.
Then—he came.
The Goblin King.
He dropped from the ceiling, feet first, aiming to crush me.
I dodged. Barely.
The fight was brutal. He was stronger. Faster.
But I was smarter.
I waited. Watched. Found an opening.
And slashed.
Right across his throat.
He collapsed.
The Staus screen flashed again.
[Quest Complete!]
[Evolution Unlocked]
With trembling fingers, I clicked the button. A reddish-black light swept over me.
For a brief moment, I felt like a bird freed from its cage—weightless, wild, alive. But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came.
When the light faded, my body felt… different. Lighter. Like someone had shaved off all the weight I’d carried for years. My waist felt loose, my limbs unburdened.
But it was too dark to see what had really changed.
Suddenly, a portal opened in front of me. On the other side—I saw the school hallway. My classroom door. Just like before.
Without thinking, I stepped forward thinking.
Maybe this was all just a dream.
Maybe it would end the moment I walked through.
But I couldn't have been more wrong.
Because what happened next… would become my new life.
