A young man with windswept raven hair limped along the leaf-strewn sidewalk, autumn winds swirling foliage around him.
Up ahead rose the stately redbrick buildings of Wellstone University, halls of prestige and power that cultivated scholarly modesty. Morning sunlight glinted off the grand clocktower's oxidized copper dome. Oblivious, the lanky boy shuffled closer, angular features buried in a dog-eared paperback.
The occasional breeze ruffled his graphic tee as he walked, lost in realms of magic and enchantment. Raucous shouts rang out from Wellstone's sprawling emerald lawn, where students sprinted through P.E. drills with focus.
But for this particular young man, only fictional lands held any luster. He clung to each new epic tale like a long-awaited letter from a childhood friend.
"Hah, truck-kun totally annihilated that dude!" he laughed aloud. Suddenly the bells tolled, echoing across campus. He jumped, fumbling his book. "Crap, truck-kun's gonna wreck me if I'm late again!" Reluctantly stashing his literary mashup, he picked up pace, the bag's weight on his slender shoulders.
Rushing through the arched brick entrance, realm of wealthy elites and "cannon fodder" as he dubbed them, he sprinted awkwardly to class. Throwing open the door, only empty desks filled the room.
With a resigned sigh, he recalled his classmates already on the lawn for P.E. "Those esteemed young masters didn't even call for me!" he chuckled, pivoting to limp rapidly back outside.
A burly blond student bellowed "Hey, limpy!"
"Gotta dash, Young Master Yun!" David called back irreverently. Cursing under his breath, the volatile bruiser vowed reprisal for this indignity.
Later, wincing as he nursed new contusions, David rued provoking the bully's hair-trigger temper again... 'I should stop doing light novel references all the time, young master Yun really beats me up whenever I do that and what was that about me pushing down an old man?...he must have come up with a justification just to beat me up again...' thought David, while massaging the bruises on his stomach. This time had been particularly brutal, and he'd probably have some new blue bruises in a few hours.
Dusk falling, David ambled slowly to the deserted campus crossing, the day's classes concluded. Seeking solace in fantasy, he pulled out a fresh novel. "Back to truck-kun!" he declared, trying to ignore his aching limbs.
Abruptly, an eerie voice echoed in his mind - [A wild truck-kun appears!]
Glancing up, a truck hurtled toward him. Knowing his fate was sealed, he uttered a single word - "F—"