༺ I'm Not Dreaming (1) ༻

---

Beep!

"Great… my phone's dead."

Sigh…

I muttered as I proceeded to put my phone into the shoulder bag I carried.

But just as I did, the train came to a sudden halt, the screeching of the tracks echoing through the carriage.

In that moment, I lost my grip, and the phone slipped from my hands.

"No… No. No."

It was rush hour, and the train was packed with people returning from work.

The crowd made it impossible to see where my phone had fallen.

I didn't even have the energy to search for it among the shifting feet, so I simply lowered myself onto the seat as the train doors closed and we started moving again.

["Next Stop – Myeongdong."]

A robotic voice echoed through the train, announcing the next subway stop.

I sighed again.

The thing was… I had just received a text from the hospital where my little sister had been admitted.

And it wasn't good news.

---

[Sender: Seoul St. Mary's Hospital- 완화의료과]

[Time: 3:27 PM]

Dear Mr. Ju-Won,

We regret to inform you that despite our best efforts, your sister's condition took a critical turn during chemotherapy. She fought bravely, but unfortunately, she passed away earlier this afternoon.

We understand that this is an incredibly difficult time, and we extend our deepest condolences. Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss the necessary arrangements.

If you need any support, we are here for you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Eun Ji-Hoon

Seoul St. Mary's Hospital

---

I wanted to cry again.

In front of people? Yeah, I didn't care.

A few tears slipped down, but I quickly wiped them away.

At this point, my eyes had given up—they were already exhausted from crying earlier when I got the message.

Right now, I was on my way to the hospital.

Just a few days ago, she was fine.

"…She was happy and smiled a lot when I was there… Did she know her time was near?"

I muttered under my breath, then bit my lower lip.

The train's lights began to flicker.

"Tch… The government needs to do something about the subway and its funds. I mean, look at how these lights are acting," a man sitting across from me complained.

The woman next to him nodded in agreement.

I didn't see the issue—this specific train was a bit old but not that much. It had even been renovated just a few months ago.

But complaining about the only available mode of transport wouldn't change anything, and the lights continued to flicker.

"…I don't remember them acting like this before. This is the first time…" I muttered.

Suddenly, the flickering stopped completely.

The train passed through a series of tunnels, one after another. Each time we entered one, the lighting inside the train dimmed further.

We were close to Myeongdong.

"My eyes are getting heavy… Is it from all the crying at the office?"

The train whistled loudly as we entered another tunnel.

["Final Stop – Myeongd—"]

I reached up to rub my tired eyes.

"What was that? The announcement cut off…"

The train finally came to a stop.

For a brief moment, the murmurs and commotion around me faded, only to return even louder than before.

I could tell people were getting off the train.

After rubbing my eyes, I blinked rapidly.

"If someone saw me now… they'd think I was some drunk father heading home to beat his wife and kids…"

My eyes had deep bags underneath them.

Finally, my vision cleared, and I could see properly again.

"...."

"*#@$&¢...."

"$&#&… We've finally arrived."

"What the hell was that?"

For a brief second, the people around me—those getting off the train—spoke in a completely different language.

And then, out of nowhere, a migraine hit me like a hammer as I stepped off.

"Shit…"

I squeezed through the crowd, but something felt… off.

That was when I noticed their clothes.

"Linen shirts… in the 21st century?"

A loud whistle echoed through the station, followed by another announcement.

["Next Destination – Southern Marches."]

"Southern Marches?…" I muttered.

That was when I finally noticed it—the train itself looked completely different.

Its design was a bizarre mix of modern and steampunk.

As the train sped past, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window.

But—no, that wasn't me.

The figure staring back had piercing yellow eyes, glowing like embers in the dark, and was draped entirely in black.

The sight sent a shiver down my spine.

I lifted a trembling hand to my face.

"What the hell—"

The ground beneath me felt unsteady.

I staggered backward, bumping into a man in a long coat.

"Ah, sorry! I—I didn't mean—"

I barely finished before colliding with another passerby.

"Sorry—!" My voice wavered.

Where was I?

The cobbled streets, the people dressed in heavy, layered garments, the distinct scent of horse-drawn carriages and burning tallow—it all screamed of a time long before my own.

This wasn't Myeongdong.

My breath hitched.

My lungs burned.

An unbearable, stabbing pain shot through my skull, as if something inside me was clawing its way out.

Or rather in.

I gasped, clutching my head as the world around me twisted.

Sound distorted—people's chatter became shrill and piercing.

My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the street.

A vice-like grip tightened around my chest.

Each inhale felt like inhaling shards of glass.

My fingers dug into the ground, nails scraping against stone.

My heart slammed against my ribs, faster and harder, threatening to tear free.

Then, as suddenly as it came, it stopped.

---

The dimly lit tavern was filled with the murmur of voices, the clinking of tankards, and the occasional burst of laughter from drunken patrons.

I exhaled heavily, swirling the amber liquid in my glass before downing it in one go.

The burn in my throat was nothing compared to what I had felt earlier.

I placed the glass on the wooden table, my fingers still gripping it tightly.

"That headache earlier..."

I muttered under my breath.

"It wasn't just pain—it was information....Memories."

Memories that weren't mine.

I clenched my jaw, the unpleasant sensation still lingering in the back of my mind.

It was like a floodgate had been forced open, and every scrap of knowledge about this world had poured into my skull all at once.

I huffed out a dry laugh.

"I'd rather go skydiving without a parachute than go through that again."

Shaking my head, I leaned back against the creaky wooden chair.

"One thing's for sure, I'm definitely not in Myeongdong.

Hell, I'm not even in Seoul."

I let the words sink in before muttering the truth that now lived in my mind.

"I'm in Elyndral... the capital of the Central Dominion Empire."

My fingers traced the rim of the glass.

"On the continent of Veloria."

Veloria.

The name sat heavy in my mind, as though it had been engraved there long before I had even arrived.

I shut my eyes, inhaling slowly as realization dawned.

This was the setting of a sim-dating romance fantasy game.

I hadn't played it much, but I knew someone who had.

Someone who had cherished every moment of it, every route, every happy ending.

My sister.

When she was diagnosed with her illness, that game became her escape.

No matter which route she took, the story always ended on a hopeful note. No bad endings.

No suffering.

Just a world filled with dreams that always, always reached a happy conclusion.

I tightened my grip on the glass, my knuckles turning white.

She was gone now.

And the last thing I did before ending up here was take a train to Myeongdong.

A train I never got to finish riding.

"What if I take the train back?..."

Would that bring me back home? Back to my world?

How sure was I?

I wasn't.

But one thing I did know was that I wasn't dreaming—not this time.

This wasn't some fleeting, wistful illusion.

The weight of my own breath, the solidness of the glass in my hand, the distant scent of burning wood in the tavern—it was all real.

And to add to that… this body wasn't mine.

I exhaled sharply, tilting my head down to look at my reflection in the drink.

The name surfaced in my mind like a cruel joke.

Noel Saint Grenn.

A noble from the Saint Grenn family.

A count's disgraceful son.

I rubbed my temples.

"Was there even such a character in the game?"

From what I remembered, the main cast was made up of teenagers—protagonists, love interests, rival nobles.

But me? I was a twenty-eight year old man.

I scoffed.

Whatever. It didn't matter.

If there was one silver lining in all of this, it was that I had landed in a romance game.

Minimal action. No dangerous battles.

Just a simple world where everyone—no matter their story—got their happy ending.

"..."

I sighed.

"…I'll miss you, Hana."

The words barely left my throat, coming out as a whisper, cracked and fragile.

My fingers trembled as I rubbed my eyes, trying to push back the overwhelming grief that threatened to consume me.

But it was pointless.

I wiped my tears again. And again. But they kept falling.

She was gone.

And no matter how tightly I held onto the memories, she wouldn't come back.

I exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table as a quiet resolution settled deep within me.

If I couldn't find a way out of this world… then I might as well—

Live through it.

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips, and before I could stop myself, a memory surfaced.

A fleeting, precious moment that had been tucked away in the corners of my mind.

—

"Hana, give it back!"

I groaned, reaching over her hospital bed as she held my phone out of reach.

"No way! You always answer your work messages when you're here. It's annoying."

She huffed, sticking her tongue out at me.

I lunged forward, grabbing her in a mock headlock.

"Brat."

Hana wriggled free, laughing as she swatted at my arms.

"And you're a workaholic loser who never has fun."

I rolled my eyes.

"That's rich, coming from you."

But the teasing glint in her eyes faded as she let out a small sigh.

"Oppa… You're always living for other people."

I frowned.

"What?"

She looked down, fiddling with the IV line in her arm.

"Even after Mom and Dad died… you just kept going. Studying hard. Getting top grades. Landing a good job. Taking care of everything."

I didn't respond.

"I can't even remember the last time you were happy."

She gave a weak chuckle, shaking her head.

"You always just… dream.

Dream about another life, another place, another 'what if.'"

Her voice softened.

"But you never live for yourself."

I blinked, stunned by the unexpected scolding.

Then, I smiled.

Reaching out, I placed a hand on top of her head, ruffling her already messy hair.

"Dummy."

Hana huffed, slapping my hand away.

"Hey! I'm being serious!"

I laughed.

"And I'm saying… for now, I'm happy just being here with you."

Her expression wavered.

Her lips pressed together as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Hana."

I smiled softly.

"I've lived most of my life already—I'm almost thirty, you know.

So if I'm going to live for one more person… it has to be you."

She sniffled, hurriedly wiping her eyes.

"You're so dramatic."

—

The memory faded.

I stared at the empty glass in my hand, my grip tightening around it.

"…Is this what you meant?"

I whispered, my voice barely audible over the tavern's noise.

Taking a shaky breath, I poured myself another drink, then lifted the glass into the air.

The flickering candlelight reflected off the amber liquid, and for a moment, I swore I could see Hana's bright, teasing eyes in its depths.

This wasn't Myeongdong. This wasn't Seoul.

I wasn't home.

But… I was here. And I was alive.

I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the drink settle in my chest.

"Live for yourself..."

Hana's voice echoed in my head, soft and firm.

I raised my glass one last time.

"To you, Hana."

And I drank.