Hey—have you ever dreamed?
Dreamed of escaping reality, of living within dreams themselves.
There are lives we constantly long for, lives we desire—because they are too wonderful, too beautiful.
And so we turn to illusion, to a place where reality and dreams are only one step apart.
Someone once said that reading a novel is like living a life, and dreaming a dream is like dreaming of becoming someone.
I—Joe—heard that phrase in passing while traveling, and I decided to try dreaming about it.
"Hmm… why don't I try reading some novels?" I asked myself.
Classic literature was too long-winded, and honestly, too dry.So I started with web novels instead.
"Oh, this is great," I thought.
I read trending works, newly rising ones, and stories that had been completed long ago.
"But… why does everything feel so simple?"
I couldn't help but wonder.The excitement I felt in the first few books was gradually replaced by a sense of doubt.
It felt strange.There was always a regressor, a transmigrator, someone absurdly strong, someone absurdly weak pretending to be strong, or someone who knew everything that would happen…
"Oh, right—there are still other things out there," I thought as I browsed through different tags, searching for new lives to read.
…
I'm not entirely sure when it happened, but I began to feel somewhat saturated with web novels.
So I tried reading classic novels.
Some were good.Some were hard to understand.Some I dropped halfway through.Some made me wonder why no one seemed to know about them.
But the emotions weren't the same anymore.
Compared to web novels, the feeling wasn't as vivid.Perhaps I still preferred that dreamy sensation—reading about those familiar types of characters.
I knew it was strange.Every character was, in some way, predictable.
And yet, they pulled me deeper into fantasy—even when I already knew how the story would go, how it would end.
"Hey… why don't I try writing something myself?" I thought.
After all, I was exhausted by a life that did nothing but repeat itself.Why not try something new?
I tried writing familiar types of characters—sometimes with a twist, sometimes purely classic.I paced back and forth, daydreaming about plotlines and characters.
I dreamed of stories where I could become the characters themselves, where I could be part of the story.
That is 'Heaven-Breaking Sword' novel.
But come on—enough with the delusions.
I liked those kinds of characters, sure.But I could never be like them.
I had lived this life for many years already.I knew that dreams were always beautiful.
And then, one day…
I rested my head on my desk.
Reports were scattered everywhere, and my computer screen still displayed unfinished work.
I took a sip of coffee, oddly calm.I hadn't slept in over a day.
What I needed now was a long sleep.
Whenever I was this exhausted, I always thought about one thing:
"Why do web novel authors and readers love stories about transmigrating into fictional characters—about standing above everyone else?"
I had always known the answer.I just kept postponing it.
Because thinking about it more wouldn't change anything.
I let out a long yawn and glanced at my phone.It was already past 10 PM.
Sleeping for a bit wouldn't hurt, right?
I looked at my phone's wallpaper.There were people there—but none of them had faces.
…
"HEY! SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!"
"THERE'S A DEAD PERSON HERE!"
What the hell?I was just trying to sleep—what's going on now?Who died?
I tried to push myself up and open my eyes—
Only to see pitch-black darkness.
Ah… everyone…
…
"HEY! DON'T YOU DARE DIRTY THE PILLOW!"
I jolted upright in bed, instinctively raising my hands as if ready to fight—only to have a pillow thrown straight into my face.
"Brother! If you're never going to wash your pillow, don't soak it with your filthy mouth!"
"Ugh—"
I wiped my mouth.It really was a bit wet.
Well… bad habits are hard to break.
I glared at the tall, broad-shouldered young man with red-and-black hair, then stood up and walked around the cramped room to grab a glass of water.
It's been a while… that dream again.
It had been nearly three years now.I was still here.
I kept hoping that one day I'd return to my original world—but nothing ever changed.
"You heading out?"
"Yeah. Watch the house."
I opened the door and stepped out of that narrow, cheap room.
"Ron Irus… hah."
My name now was Ron Irus.
And there were seven years left until the end of the world.