On the day our story begins, the world was a whirlwind of events. Trillions of lives moved forward, each moment blending into the next. But out of the countless occurrences unfolding across the globe, only two matter to us. Two threads of reality weaving together in ways that would shape the course of everything that followed.

The first thread unraveled in the small, cluttered apartment of Karl. A guy who, on the surface, seemed utterly unremarkable. His life was a patchwork of faded routines and unrealized dreams. Today, however, something unusual was stirring.

The first thread unraveled in the crisscrossing alleys of the neighborhood, where Karl found himself on the run. His shoes slapped against the damp pavement, each step splashing through shallow puddles left by last night's rain. Behind him came the sound of three sets of heavier footsteps, paired with the taunts and shouts of three angry boys.

Karl's breath burned in his chest, each gulp of air coming harder than the last. His legs ached, but he didn't dare slow down. He knew how this game worked. If he stopped, they'd catch him, and then it would be worse. They'd shove him, mock him, maybe even take whatever pocket change he'd scraped together that week.

The alleys twisted and turned, but Karl knew them like the back of his hand. He darted left, then right, his heart pounding not just from exertion but from the sharp edge of fear. His mind raced as fast as his legs. How long could he keep this up? When would they get bored and leave him alone?

"Just wait till I catch you, bastard!" one of the boys shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat dripping from his forehead as he pushed himself to keep up.

Karl didn't look back—he never did. He could picture them clearly enough without needing to turn around. They were always the same: red-faced, huffing like angry bulls, their hands clenched into fists as though sheer rage could make them run faster.

"You're dead meat, Karl!" another voice bellowed, this one deeper, laced with the kind of bravado that faltered whenever they lost sight of their prey.

Karl's lungs burned, his legs threatening to buckle under him, but the desperation to stay ahead outweighed the exhaustion. He darted past a row of overflowing trash bins, their sour stench making his stomach churn. His eyes flicked around, scanning for an escape route—anywhere to lose them, even for a moment.

The boy in the back was the loudest, his face as red as a tomato, beads of sweat dripping from his brow and smearing down his flushed cheeks. His chest heaved with every step, his breaths coming in strained, uneven bursts. And yet, despite the obvious struggle, it was clear he was the most determined to catch Karl.

It was him, after all, who Karl had offended. He was the one who had rallied his friends, coaxed and begged them to join the chase, swearing that Karl needed to "pay." His voice, sharp and full of righteous indignation, had sparked their pursuit in the first place.

But irony clung to the scene like the damp air of the alley. The boy—the instigator, the one so dead set on catching Karl—was in last place. Each of his thunderous steps fell further behind his friends, who were leaner and faster.

"Wait for me!" he shouted hoarsely, his voice breaking, the fury in his tone only barely masking the desperation. "I'll get him myself if I have to!"

Karl, hearing the angry cries behind him, couldn't help but smirk faintly through his exhaustion. The guy's temper was larger than his stamina.

Still, Karl didn't slow down. He knew better than to underestimate someone this driven, someone who had gathered two others just to make his point. The boy's anger had momentum of its own, and Karl had no interest in finding out what happened if it ever caught up to him.

Karl wasn't weak. He was tall, semi-muscular, and had enough strength in his wiry frame to hold his own if it came down to a one-on-one fight. He could take on one of them and come out on top with barely a scratch. Two? That would be tougher, but he could still manage it with some clever moves and a bit of luck.

But three? Even Karl wasn't cocky enough to think he'd stand a chance. He knew how these things went. The first punch would hurt, but it was the second and third that would break him. Once they had him cornered, their frustration would do the rest, raining down on him in kicks and blows until he was too bruised and battered to fight back.

So, Karl ran. Not because he was scared, but because he was smart. Strength didn't matter when the odds were stacked against you like this. Three angry boys, all bent on teaching him a lesson? No amount of bravado could make that a fair fight.

The alley stretched out in front of him like an endless corridor, but Karl's mind was already working through his options. He could turn left and head toward the main street—too risky. Someone might stop the fight, sure, but they might not. Or he could duck through the old fence at the end of the alley. It was rusted and bent, barely hanging on its hinges. He'd used it before, and it had slowed them down just enough.

You might ask what Karl had done to deserve being chased by these boys. What could have possibly sparked such relentless fury?

Well, it all came down to the boy in last place. He had a sister—a very beautiful girl who just so happened to be in Karl's class. She wasn't just pretty; she had this magnetic charm, the kind that made heads turn and kept them turning. Her laugh was the kind people noticed, and her smile had a way of making everything else in the room seem a little duller.

Karl had liked her from the very first moment he saw her, three years ago. He remembered it vividly: the way she walked into the classroom, her hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window, her eyes scanning the room with a quiet confidence. From that day forward, Karl had nursed a quiet, hopeful crush.

But she had never paid him any attention. Not once.

But then, by some incredible stroke of luck—or perhaps fate—everything had changed. Yesterday, when Karl finally summoned the courage to speak to her, something magical happened. For the first time in three years, she didn't just brush him off or look past him. No, she actually listened.

She even smiled. A small, teasing smile that made Karl's heart race. It wasn't a big grin or anything exaggerated, but it was enough to light a spark of hope inside him. And when he cracked a corny joke about the boring history class they'd just endured, she let out a soft laugh—genuine, warm, and completely unexpected.

Karl could hardly believe it when she invited him over. She said something about needing help with an assignment, but her tone hinted there was more to it than that. He didn't think twice about saying yes.

Later that evening, Karl found himself in her room, trying his best to stay cool and casual even as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. They talked, laughed, and somehow, the conversation flowed in a way that felt natural and easy. It was as though the years of quiet admiration had built up to this perfect moment.

And then it happened.

He didn't know what gave him the courage—maybe it was the way she looked at him, her eyes soft and inviting, or the way she leaned just a little closer. But before he could stop himself, his lips were on hers.

It was a quick kiss, nervous and unsure, but it was real. And the fact that she didn't pull away, that she kissed him back, made it feel like the world had stopped spinning.

Unfortunately, the world didn't stop for long.

Her brother, the boy now in last place, had chosen that exact moment to burst into her room. Karl didn't even have time to process what was happening before her brother's furious roar filled the space.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

The girl, quick-thinking and clearly more clever than her brother, had managed to buy Karl just enough time to escape.

"Calm down!" she had said, stepping between her brother and Karl as her brother's face turned crimson with rage. "It's not what you think!"

Her voice was steady, firm, even as her brother tried to push past her. "Move!" he had shouted, his hands balling into fists.

But she didn't budge. "You're being ridiculous," she snapped, her eyes locking with his. "Just let it go."

Karl, standing frozen for a split second, had taken the chance she gave him. Without a word, he slipped out the door and down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear her brother's frustrated growls as she continued to stall him, giving Karl the precious seconds he needed to make his getaway.

By the time her brother finally broke past her and stormed after him, Karl was already gone.

The boy had been livid, his anger simmering long after Karl had escaped. That night, he paced his room, his mind churning with thoughts of payback. It wasn't enough that Karl had run off—he needed to be taught a lesson. A clear, unforgettable lesson.

So the next morning, fueled by a mix of wounded pride and brotherly rage, he set out to find Karl's house. It didn't take long. Karl's family wasn't exactly known for keeping a low profile, and word traveled fast in their neighborhood.

By midday, the boy stood outside Karl's modest home, his two loyal friends flanking him like henchmen. He didn't knock, didn't call out—he wasn't here for a polite confrontation. Instead, he leaned against the fence, glaring at the windows as though his sheer presence would drag Karl outside.

"Are you sure this is the place?" one of his friends asked, glancing nervously around.

"It's the place," the boy growled, his fists tightening. He could already feel the satisfaction of making Karl pay, of wiping that smug look off his face.

When Karl finally stepped out, the sight of the three boys waiting for him made his stomach drop. He didn't need to ask why they were there. He already knew.

And so, the chase began.