The Dream That Refused to End
"I told you not to wander around alone without your grandpa!"
The booming voice cut through the noise of the market like a hammer. The girl flinched at first, startled by the sudden scolding, but instead of pushing him away, she melted into the arms of the old man who had come rushing through the crowd. His embrace was tight, protective—so full of worry it almost looked painful.
Then, with that disarming childishness of hers, she tilted her head back, flashed a bright grin, and said,
"I'm fine! The potatoes are fine too!"
She proudly lifted her basket, which somehow was still brimming with steaming potatoes, as though she hadn't lost a single one.
The old man's eyes trembled as he held her close, then slowly lifted his gaze toward me. His stare quivered, not in anger, but in fear. It was the look of someone weighing every possibility—whether I had been offended, whether this child of his had committed a mistake she could never take back.
The contrast struck me. My neat, expensive clothing, so out of place in this noisy, dusty marketplace, probably made me seem untouchable to someone like him.
His voice was low, trembling, almost rehearsed.
"My little girl doesn't know much about the world yet… I wonder if she did anything to offend you, Young Master…"
I almost laughed. Pretending to be a pitiful old man? Hiding behind a mask of humility? He was playing the role well, but I knew the truth.
This man was no ordinary elder. He was Max—one of the Heavenly Paragons, a being so powerful that not even the Leader of the Alliance of the Ten Clans could force him to bow. The very idea of him speaking to me like this would've been laughable… if I weren't the one standing in front of him.
I steadied my expression, clasped my hands politely, and said,
"Oh, there's no problem at all, senior. On the contrary—I was rather hungry, and this young lady kindly shared one of her delicious potatoes with me. I am deeply grateful for her generosity."
The old man froze. His eyes widened, studying me with surprise. Perhaps it was the formality in my tone. Perhaps it was the fact that I, clearly a child, spoke with such measured words. Either way, he wasn't expecting it.
Maybe I was overdoing it. But this was only a dream, wasn't it? What harm could there be in playing along?
I continued, bowing slightly.
"The only thing I could repay her with was a small piece of chikki. So if anything, I am the one who must apologize for offering so little."
Silence.
The market roared around us—merchants calling, customers shouting, dumplings steaming—but between us hung a strange stillness. Max's gaze was no longer trembling; it was sharp now, serious, as though he were peeling away layers of me with his eyes.
Had I said something wrong?
The weight of that stare pressed on me until, mercifully, my escort stepped forward. His voice was calm, but I noticed his fingers twitching against the hilt of his sword.
"…Young Master, I believe it's time to return."
I turned slightly, raising a brow.
"Already?"
"Yes," he said firmly, though his eyes were trembling. "If we delay further, we'll return after sunset."
I exhaled slowly and nodded.
"Very well. We shall go back."
When I turned again to face Max, his expression had returned to that same gloomy facade, the pitiful mask of an old man.
"Senior," I said evenly, "it seems I must take my leave."
Before he could respond, the girl in his arms tightened her grip on his robe and blurted out,
"You're leaving already…?"
Her wide eyes, shimmering with disappointment, locked onto me. That single look pierced deeper than I expected.
But it was enough.
The past I was trying to rewrite, the regrets I thought I could soften—it had all reached its end. My pitiful little life, my endless burdens… I had carried them far enough.
'It's time to wake up.'
I told myself that. Over and over.
If someone asked what had changed, I'd have no answer.
If someone asked if I felt relief, I'd say no.
But still—I had done what I could.
Forcing a smile, I turned to the girl.
"If fate allows it, let's meet again. Your potato… it was truly delicious."
I raised my hand in farewell. She broke into a wide grin, her missing tooth on full display, and waved both her arms as hard as she could.
Max bowed his head repeatedly, apologizing as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. That false humility unsettled me more than any threat—because I knew exactly who he truly was.
Then, with the girl pressed tightly against his chest, the old man vanished into the crowd.
"…I was scared to death."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
My escort gave a bitter smile, his voice low.
"Yes, let's return."
He thought I meant home. But in truth—I couldn't even remember the way home.
Still, I nodded.
'That aside… why am I still not waking up?'
This dream should've ended the moment I fulfilled my role. Why was it dragging on?
"Young Master? You are going the wrong way."
I had been walking down the wrong street. My escort quietly corrected me, guiding me along the proper route. Every time I strayed, he redirected me with patience, and I followed.
'Whatever. This will all end soon anyway.'
Resentment stirred in my chest. Why was I being forced to linger in this illusion? Why couldn't I just fade away in peace?
But there was nothing I could do.
So I surrendered, letting the dream drag me where it wanted.
Yet a few days later, a single thought struck me like a blade to the gut.
"…Why isn't this shitty dream ending?"
That's when I realized—
This wasn't a dream.