Single Wish: Rise Of The Omniscient Paragon Chapter 1 1: Not Meant For You

Bam!

Crash!

"What is this garbage you brought home?!"

A middle-aged man roared, his reddened fist clenched tightly against the table. Resting beside his hand was a single sheet of paper, while shattered ceramic shards littered the floor directly next to the furniture.

Standing before the man was a teenager—a nineteen-year-old boy, to be precise. The youth was currently staring at the broken pottery on the ground. If one were to piece the fragments back together, the name 'Corey' would be visible on the bottom of a jagged shard.

'That was my favorite mug,' Corey thought, a twinge of pain hitting his heart as he surveyed the broken glass.

'I should have moved it before I handed him the paper,' Corey sighed inwardly, shifting his gaze to the document. He lacked the courage to look his father in the eye.

As his eyes fell upon the paper, his father’s shout echoed again.

"Answer me, Corey! What kind of results are these?!"

Corey looked up from the paper to meet his father's gaze. The mixture of fury and disappointment reflecting there stung his heart more than he had anticipated.

While his father’s disapproval hurt, Corey’s own eyes were filled with their own heavy emotions.

Exhaustion was the most prominent, followed by a deep sense of sorrow and futility. Hidden even deeper, however, was an emotion most would fail to recognize: a profound, crushing depression.

He was simply tired of living this life.

"Are you just going to stand there like a statue?!" his father yelled when several seconds passed without a response.

Corey merely lowered his head. He had no words left.

What excuse could he possibly offer?

What defense was there to make?

Would it matter if he told his father that he was just as confused about his failure?

Would it change anything to mention how hard he had struggled, only to fall short anyway?

Should he talk about the endless all-nighters he endured before and during the examination period?

Was there any point in explaining how he had sacrificed every party, social event, and potential friendship just to remain chained to his desk and focused on his studies?

There was no reason to say any of it, especially when the results didn't reflect even a fraction of the effort he had invested.

It was utterly pointless.

Completely meaningless.

An uncomfortable silence stretched out for a few moments before Corey’s father spoke again.

"I’m very disappointed in you, Corey. But more than that, I’m scared for your future. You’re already in your third year, yet your recent grades are below average. You won’t find decent work after graduation. No reputable company hires average people, let alone those who fall below that mark."

Corey shivered slightly at the words. It would have been easier if his father had continued to rage; at least then, the sting in his chest wouldn't be so sharp.

The greatest agony came from knowing his father was right. That was exactly why he had pushed himself so hard, yet despite his best efforts, he had failed regardless.

Corey remained silent, his eyes fixed on the floor. He was lost for words.

Seeing his son standing there motionless and mute, the father rose from his chair and began to walk away.

He paused after a few paces, speaking without turning around.

"Clean up those broken pieces on the floor."

With that final command, he departed.

Corey looked up from the floor to watch his father’s retreating back. As he watched him go, a gentle voice reached his ears.

"Junior."

He turned toward the spot where his father had been sitting—or rather, just beside it.

His mother was there. She had remained silent throughout the ordeal, and in his emotional turmoil, Corey had almost forgotten her presence.

Looking at her, he saw a face etched with worry. There was no anger or disappointment in her expression, only pure concern.

At times, he couldn't grasp the depth of a mother's love for her child.

"Junior…" His mother hesitated, the words seemingly stuck in her throat.

"Perhaps being a medical student isn't your path. You should probably consider trying something else."

The moment she spoke, Corey’s breath hitched, and his entire frame went rigid.

Seeing him react this way hurt her, for she knew how desperately he wanted to be a doctor. However, looking at his academic history, she realized it would take a miracle for him to succeed. She felt she had to speak up, if only to nudge him toward a different future.

Corey’s mother sighed softly when he remained rooted to the spot, silent for several more seconds. She eventually stood up and left the room.

Inside Corey’s head, her words echoed relentlessly.

'Not meant for you.'

After a long pause, he whispered to the empty room, his eyes beginning to well up.

"I know it’s not meant for me."

"I’ve only just realized it in my third year."

"But what am I supposed to do?"

"If I want to start university over, Dad would have to pay even more."

"Our family is barely getting by as it is."

"What is my move?"

"I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be."

"… I’m just so tired."

Wiping his watery eyes with his right hand, Corey moved toward the shattered ceramic. He found a plastic bag to collect the pieces. Once he had swept up every shard, he disposed of them in the kitchen trash can.

That task finished, he retreated to his bedroom. It was an ordinary room, devoid of celebrity posters or suggestive pictures. It contained only a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a reading lamp.

He went to his closet to grab some clothes. Just as he pulled them out, a knock sounded at the door. Frowning slightly, he called out.

"Come in."

The door swung open to reveal a teenage girl. Though she was only sixteen, she possessed the stature of a woman in her early twenties.

The girl watched Corey with a look of concern.

Without turning to face her, Corey pulled off his t-shirt. He didn't need to look to know who it was; he recognized the specific rhythm of the knock. He knew the distinct patterns of his father, mother, and sister.

"What is it, Anna?"

Corey asked, revealing a flat, somewhat thin torso as he discarded his shirt. He followed by removing his shorts, tossing both into the laundry basket.

Anna wasn't bothered by him changing; her focus remained on her brother as she spoke with a troubled expression.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes," Corey replied, pulling on black shorts and a white long-sleeved shirt. He then knelt by the wardrobe.

"Where are you going?" Anna asked, her curiosity laced with growing anxiety. A sudden thought struck her, making her expression even more frantic. "Tell me you aren't running away. Please, don't do it."

Corey glanced at Anna’s pleading face. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his white sneakers. Dropping them to the floor, he began to put them on.

"I’m not running away, Anna," Corey assured her, though she didn't look entirely convinced.

"Then where are you headed?" she pressed.

"To the Temple."

"Huh?" The answer caught Anna off guard. "I thought you didn’t believe in God?"

Corey finished lacing his shoes and stood up. He looked directly at Anna for the first time during their talk. When she met his gaze, his eyes looked… lifeless.

She felt a wave of confusion and dread.

"Right now, I need something to believe in." He brushed past her, whispering under his breath.

"Even if my purpose is just to serve and believe in God, I’ll accept it."