It was just nightmare, but it felt too real.
The room around him was dark and quiet, and his chest was still pounding rapidly.
He wiped his damp face, trying to steady his breathing, but the sadness clung to him.
'Mom,' he whispered again, the word stuck in his throat.
That memory had been haunting him for years.
It was the moment that changed everything, the one that left him broken.
If it weren't for the games, keeping him distracted, he didn't know what would've happened to him. It was the only thing that kept him going.
People judged him for being this way, never bothering to understand where he was coming from.
But he didn't blame them.
It was his choice to live like this, and he didn't regret it.
In gaming, he found a sense of enjoyment and escape that the real world couldn't offer.
'It's their death anniversary today,' he muttered to himself, a bitter twist of fate that made his heart ache.
Ironically, it was also his birthday. He was turning 20 today, a date that should have been filled with joy.
Instead, it marked 3rd year since the accident that had claimed his parent's lives.
There were so many "what ifs" swirling in his mind.
What if he hadn't begged them to take him to that place Would that have changed everything?
What if he hadn't told his father to hurry so they could catch that show he was so excited about?
What if he had died before his birthday? Would they still be alive?
Each question felt like a knife twisting deeper, adding to the weight of his guilt and grief.
He sighed and forced himself to go to his bed.
As he walked, his eyes drifted to the desk cluttered with trophies and medals.
Each shiny surface caught the light, hinting at a past that were filled with victories.
Among the trophies, there were medals for various martial arts: one for Taekwondo, another for Judo, and several more for Karate and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
They were impressive accolades, each one representing success.
But who did they belong to?
He paused, remembering the cheers and applause, the thrill of competition, and the rush of adrenaline.
There had been a time when these awards meant everything to him—when he thrived on the excitement of competition and the recognitions that followed.
But now they seemed more like reminders of someone else's achievements, distant memories that no longer felt like his own.
When he looked up at the wall, he saw countless framed newspaper clippings lovingly made by his mother.
(9 years old super genius, Luck had shown unprecedented talent by winning the international mathematics competition at such a young age,)
The headline read, accompanied by a photo of a grinning child holding a trophy that was too big for him.
(IQ of over 200. The smartest kid alive,)
Boasted yet another headline.
(Luck, Elo 3000, the 12-year-old genius that beat Magnus,)
He remembered this moment vividly— sitting across from the world-renowned grandmaster, who, for some reason, had decided to show up late, as if taking pity on him.
Luck had taken full advantage of that opportunity and completely dominated the match.
Spectators whispered in disbelief, unsure how a kid could so thoroughly outmaneuver one of the greatest players in history.
But he wasn't satisfied with just that.
Fueled by a competitive fire, he began beating the grandmaster nonstop.
Luck's strategy and sharp instincts led him to an incredible achievement: an Elo rating of 3000.
Even to this day, no one has yet to break his record, making him a legend in the chess world.
'Oh yeah, I used to be one of the smartest people alive,' he chuckled to himself, finding this old news ironic.
If that accident had never happened, his life could have taken an entirely different trajectory.
Instead of drowning in grief and isolation, he might have continued to shine as a prodigy in various fields.