"Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick."

The rhythmic ticking of a decrepit grandfather clock resounded within an otherwise silent candle-lit bedroom.

The noise seemed to echo off the dust-ridden furniture, the mouldy bed, and the faded paintings. Paintings that had become indiscernible due to the unrelenting passage of time.

A lightbulb was nestled into the ceiling, and a lamp adorned the bedside table, yet both were as lifeless as the rest of the room's furniture.

Upon that mouldy bed was the figure of a sleeping young man, his nose whistling slightly as he slept.

Finally, the incessant ticking of the old clock made its way into his ears.

The man in question stirred in his otherwise peaceful sleep. His youthful appearance, plain t-shirt, and comfortable sweatpants were in an almost offensive contrast to the room he slept in.

His name was Jacob Bochord, a 19-year-old boy nicknamed Jax by his older sister. A nickname he attempted to deny only for it to catch on due to its lack of cumbersome syllables. Despite the fact that the difference was minimal, a point that Jacob had made quite often.

In practically every way, he was a regular, boring guy. A typical young man from rural Australia that you wouldn't look at twice in a crowded room.

He wasn't gifted physically, in either looks or physique. In fact, if looks were to be rated, his brown hair and eyes, along with his other mundane features such as his cheekbones, jaw and general build would be given a score of 5/10, a 6 if he bothered to dress properly.

He had an ordinary family and upbringing, barring his absent mother, who, along with his father, were from Ireland originally before becoming the owners of a local store in the small Aussie town that Jacob and his sister grew up in.

A lengthy description of the relationship between Jacob and his sister Caitlin would involve a fair bit of drama stemming from Caitlin's general ability to excel in seemingly every facet of life.

Sports, studies, manners, and art. She performed better than her peers in any area that seemed to matter, let alone her brother, who was 2 years younger than her.

The short version? Jacob spent many years of his young life being bested in almost every way by his older sister.

In reality, Jacob was not remarkably untalented or stupid, but after seeing his older sister do better than him at every activity, he eventually stopped trying.

By his teenage years, this had become a root problem in Jacob's life.

His primary problem, as mentioned constantly by his teachers, was his inability to convince himself of the worth of pursuing any particular goal.

Regardless of whether it was getting in shape, trying to look vaguely fashionable, or his education, he was typically uninterested. His social circles suffered from this affliction as much as any other area of his life, leaving him effectively friendless.

If one out-of-the-ordinary property had to be extracted from him, it would be his so-called "art of bullshit." On occasion, Jacob had demonstrated this ability to argue, debate, and twist the truth by using a variety of intriguing, occasionally vulgar, and sometimes downright foul language to get himself out, or into trouble.

This could be seen as a testament to his actual level of intellect, which, while not particularly outstanding, was higher than his disinterested actions alluded to.

These factors of Jacob's personality all culminated to form his primary hobby, reading. Although he later started playing games, his first and foremost favourite way to pass the time was a good book and a quiet room without anyone to annoy him.

Even the reason for his playing games was based on his love for reading, as it allowed him a new way to view and even interact with the stories he loved to read.

Needless to say, he primarily focused on single-player and plot-driven games.

He decided to leave home for good as soon as possible to make something of his passions. At least, that was the story he used to convince his father to allow him to move out, along with a sizable stack of persuasive arguments mainly involving him getting a job to pay for everything and being out of his old man's hair for good.

He had arrived just before the orientation week of his university. One he had miraculously gotten admitted to. He had just finished setting up at his tiny studio apartment before quickly falling asleep.

That very Jacob was now waking in this room that seemed to be forgotten to everyone.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling incredulously.

"Well, this is new."