He sits very still as the idea settles in, and for the first time it does not sparkle like a spell. Rocket engineering school sounds less like wizardry and more like a gate built from forms, deadlines, and impossible grades. The city outside his roof is no longer an enemy realm; it becomes a place where people learn how to send metal into the sky. He feels the old fantasy recoiling, offended, while something quieter and sturdier begins to stir in him.

He goes back inside, where the apartment is plain and cluttered and painfully real. Mail, books, a cheap laptop, and a half-dead lamp wait for him like unromantic companions on a quest. He opens a search page and starts reading requirements, each line another brick in a bridge he never knew he wanted to build. The dream does not vanish, but it changes shape, becoming a future he can actually reach if he dares to stay awake in the real world.