That morning, the loud sound of an alarm shattered the silence in a young man's room. Lazily, he stretched his hand out from under the blanket to turn off the alarm on his phone. The clock showed 5:30 AM. The young man's eyes were still half-closed, and his head felt a bit heavy, perhaps because of the vivid dream he had just had. In his dream, he was a little boy again, talking to his grandfather about something that now seemed ridiculous to him—about cultivators.
"What a strange dream," the young man muttered, rubbing his eyes. He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "Cultivators, huh? How foolish I was back then."
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor for a moment. Thoughts of his childhood and past obsessions began to haunt him again. Lazily, the young man got up from his worn-out bed and headed to the small bathroom in the corner of the room.
Upon entering the bathroom, the young man grabbed a water dipper and turned on the faucet. The sound of running water became the monotonous backdrop of the morning. He scooped a few dips of cold water and splashed his face. The cold water felt like needles against his skin, still not fully awake from the drowsiness. He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wipe away the remnants of the dream still lingering in his mind. His face was wet, and his hair a little disheveled from the water, but the freshness gradually returned to his body.
After that, the young man reached for the toothbrush near the sink. He squeezed just enough toothpaste and started brushing his teeth slowly, as if the toothbrush was not just cleaning his mouth but also scrubbing away the haunting memories of his past. As he gazed at himself in the mirror, he saw a tired face staring back at him. Every morning, the routine felt monotonous. Nothing had changed, except for the growing sense of regret that built up with each passing day.
When he finished, he stared at himself in the mirror. His wet and cold face reflected a life filled with regret. The young man's eyes narrowed as he intensely examined his reflection. "Truly a waste," he muttered bitterly. "Thirteen years of my life, all passed by just like that. How could I have been so obsessed with becoming a cultivator?"
A small laugh escaped his lips, but it wasn't one of joy. It was a laugh filled with sadness and sarcasm. "How foolish I was... how foolish! Now my life is in ruins, and it's all because of that empty dream that never came true."
The young man laughed again, but this time it was more bitter. He lowered his head, feeling the despair slowly flooding his mind. It was as if his entire life up to this point had been one cruel joke. His dream of becoming a cultivator was nothing more than a childish fantasy, but its effects had ruined his life in the present. That dream had led him astray during his teenage years, making him sacrifice all the potential his future once held.
Without much thought, the young man put on his work clothes—a worn-out shirt stained with permanent marks and pants with several rips. He grabbed his slightly damaged work helmet from the edge of the table, preparing to leave for work.
His job as a construction laborer was something he had never imagined when he was a child. Back then, he had dreamed of becoming something extraordinary. He wanted to be a hero like those in adventure stories, a great cultivator with extraordinary powers who could surpass human limits. But the reality was that he was now just a construction worker, working hard just to survive day by day.
As he walked out of his house, the young man let out a long sigh. The fresh morning air wasn't enough to erase the feeling of regret that clung to his heart. "What have I been doing all this time?" he muttered softly, half-talking to himself. His steps felt heavy, as if the world around him was pressing down on him from all sides.
He saw people passing by on the street, most of them likely heading to their jobs—jobs they might enjoy, or at least jobs they didn't hate. But him? He felt trapped. Every day, he worked under the scorching sun, moving heavy materials, working with hands and muscles that were already beginning to tire.
"If only I could turn back time," he muttered again in a bitter tone. "I would choose to study seriously, go to a good university, and graduate with high grades. After that, I could get a decent job, a job I truly wanted."
The young man's eyes grew a little teary as he kept walking. The regret became more painful as he imagined all the opportunities he had wasted. "If only I hadn't been so interested in all that nonsense about cultivators, maybe my life wouldn't be like this now."
He uttered those words with deep regret. He remembered how much time he had wasted during his teenage years, chasing after unrealistic dreams. He had even traveled to remote places, hoping to find a cultivator, hoping to be trained into someone extraordinary. But in the end, it was all for nothing. There were no cultivators, no extraordinary powers, no shortcuts to success.
"I wasted too much time on that stupid adventure," he said, his voice full of anger. "And now, I'm stuck here, living a pathetic life because of my own stupidity."
The young man stopped for a moment at the side of the road, staring off into the distance. The reality was painful, but he knew he couldn't keep living in an illusion. He had to accept reality, even if it wasn't what he had hoped for. "Maybe... maybe I should start accepting life as it is, not as I dreamed it to be."
As he walked again, he whispered quietly, "If cultivators really do exist, then maybe one day I'll meet one. But for now... I just have to live this life."
Without realizing it, he had already arrived at the construction site where he worked. The sounds of heavy machinery and the bustle of the project had already begun. The young man took a deep breath, put on his helmet, and prepared to face another ordinary day. Though his heart was filled with regret, he knew he couldn't go back in time. All he could do now was keep moving forward, no matter what.