I was really frustrated by this... Even though I was a bit happy to be back because I missed my parents but, the ti I spent there was incredible... Just amazing...
"But seriously, who dreams for this long?"
As I caught my breath and tried to make sense of my situation, I gradually realized that my past experiences as the Netori king, living in another world, and being Michael Frostburne might have all been a dream...
A profound sadness washed over as I understood that the life I had longed for was rely an illusion, a vivid yet deceptive dream that had felt so real.
My shouts of despair were replaced by a heavy silence, and the sense of loss was overwhelming.
"But it still felt so real."
I had been so invested in that fantasy, so convinced that I was a rich person in another world and that my actions and choices had real consequences.
But now, I was just an ordinary person in an ordinary room.
Now, I have to go back to living the sa boring, miserable life again...
Feeling a little emptiness on my heart, I slowly got up from the bed, my mind still reeling from the abrupt transition from fantasy to reality...
It was as if the rug had been pulled out from under , leaving with a deep sense of disorientation.
"Man, that was a good life..."
While I was thinking about this, a woman's voice rang out, saying, "Michael, co downstairs quickly, Lunch is ready!"
Hearing that made feel a little happy. Even though I was not in another world, my mom's voice always comforts , even if she's strict...
I quickly called out, "Coming!" and hurried to the door to go downstairs.
It soon hit that living in another world and going on adventures is sothing that only happens in novels, not in real life...
I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream as I descended the stairs.
The aroma of my mom's cooking wafted up to et , a familiar and comforting scent that grounded in reality.
Hmmm... She really is an excellent cook...
As I entered the kitchen, I saw my parents already seated at the table.
My dad was reading the newspaper, and my mom was placing a steaming pot of stew in the center of the table.
They looked up and smiled as I walked in.
My dad, with his salt-and-pepper hair and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, wore a navy blue polo shirt and khaki slacks.
His face, lined with years of laughter and hard work, softened as he greeted .
"About ti you joined us," my dad said with a chuckle, folding the newspaper and setting it aside.
"Sorry, I was just... Busy with my work," I replied, forcing a smile.
I just made up an excuse...
My mom gave a curious look but didn't press further.
Her auburn hair, tied back in a neat bun, frad her kind, yet slightly weary eyes.
She wore a floral apron over a light green blouse and jeans, looking both practical and warm.
"Sit down and eat. You need to keep up your strength," she said, her tone softening as she motioned for to take a seat.
Even though I'm 27, I still choose to live with my parents. Sotis they call useless, but after a bit, they apologize because they know I'm still trying hard to find a decent job. Enjoy new adventures from My Virtual Library Empire
As I sat down and served myself so stew, my mind began to wander...
My father's na is Aeron Hastron, and my mother's na is Liana Hastron.
So, that ans my na is...
Yeah, correct, Michael Hastron...
I looked at my father, who was eating, and said, "Appraise."
I was trying so tricks again, but nothing happened.
Nothing appeared out of thin air...
So, I'm really back...
It's still hard to believe that it was all just a dream...
"So, what were you busy with?" my mom asked, breaking the silence.
I hesitated, unsure of how to explain. "Oh, nothing serious, I was just watching so movies on my phone."
That was a lie, but it should be believable since I usually watched at least one movie a day...
Yeah, I used to love movies...
My dad raised an eyebrow. "You're really on that again. Why don't you forget it? It wasn't your fault, you know..."
Huh? What is he talking about?
I didn't understand...
I really didn't get what my father ant by his words...
I asked in confusion, "What are you talking about?"
Instead of answering, my father looked at with disappointnt and sighed, "Can you stop pretending? Don't try to be clever. I ant what I said."
My mother added, "Michael, I understand you think this is your first ti, but you need to move on and start over."
I was even more confused by their words; they didn't make any sense to ...
What are they talking about?
I asked again, "What's wrong with you guys? What are you saying? I don't understand anything."
This ti, my father was silent, but my mother said angrily, "Stop fooling around, Michael. You've been acting like this for days. Do you even see us as your parents?"
I went quiet, realizing this was it...
My mom's anger...
Even though she can be really strict, this was nothing compared to the worst things I've heard from her before...
I decided it was better to stay silent.
My mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Sorry, Michael, I shouldn't have reacted like that, but I can't take it anymore..."
Tears started rolling down her face as she said, "Just rember, son, the real world is what matters. We're here, and we're real."
Her words resonated with , bringing a small asure of unknown comfort.
I nodded, taking a bite of the stew.
For a mont, I thought about asking, but quickly decided against it since I'd seen what happened when I asked before.
Still, it was the first or maybe second ti I had seen my mother cry...
I think the first ti was when I got hurt in my legs in kindergarten.
Even though my mom is strict, she's very sensitive toward , even more so than my dad.
I want to know...
But I was really curious about what they were talking about.
Despite that, I managed to control myself and didn't ask.
After that, my parents and I stayed silent for the rest of lunch.
The situation was getting really awkward, so I quickly finished my breakfast and rushed to my room without talking much to my parents...
After going upstairs, I lay on my bed and started thinking about what my parents had said.
What did they really an?
"First ti"? "My fault"? "Fooling around"?
What's going on?
I didn't know, and I had no way to find out.
After thinking for about 10 more minutes with no answers coming to , I decided to let it go.
Feeling bored with nothing to do, I picked up my phone and opened Google to look for new movies.
As soon as the app refreshed, a news headline caught my eye.
I'm usually not into news, but this clickbait paragraph grabbed my attention...
It read: "Video of a 25-year-old woman hit by a truck at a crosswalk in Washington."
When I clicked on it, it took to a website where the video began to play, and the reporter's voice filled the room...
"Here's the footage of a tragic accident that happened earlier today in Washington. A 25-year-old woman was struck by a truck while crossing at a busy intersection."
The video was from a year ago, which ant the accident happened about a year back.
The cara showed a grainy video of a crosswalk with ergency vehicles and bystanders milling about.
The scene was chaotic, with flashing lights and the blurred figures of people rushing to help...
The reporter continued, "Witnesses say the woman was crossing the street when the truck, which seed to be speeding, failed to stop. The driver is now being questioned by the police. The woman was rushed to the hospital, but sadly, the doctors couldn't save her, and she passed away."
The scene, the place, and the figure...
Had I seen them before?
I couldn't rember, but I felt like the figure was sohow connected to .
What kind of connection? Who is she?
No matter how hard I tried to think, I couldn't find an answer until the reporter said, "Here's the face and na of the victim who was hit."
A photo of the woman appeared on the screen, showing her face and body.
When I saw her face, I felt shocked, sad, and guilty all at once.
The reporter continued, "We've contacted the victim's family mbers..."
A rush of emotions flooded over .
My breathing beca heavy, and my heart pounded rapidly...
It was beating so quickly that I could almost feel it physically.
The more I looked at the victim's face, the more mories—filled with sadness, happiness, and a flood of other emotions—started to co back.
Tears ford in my eyes, and it beca increasingly harder to breathe for with every passing second...
With each passing second, my chance of dying seed to grow slowly but steadily.
Unbeknownst to , my heart was beating much faster than normal.
My mind raced uncontrollably, spinning through every possible thought.
Why? Why did this happen?
Why did I let her go?
Damn... It hurts... My heart hurts...
If only I hadn't let her leave that day...
The pain was unbearable. My heart felt as though it was being crushed.
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