The monotonous sound of keyboard clicks echoed through the cramped room. The clock showed 2 am. On the computer screen, the manuscript of his novel remained shrouded in uncertainty. A 19-year-old young man rubbed his weary face. Three novels. Three failures.
His first novel, ambitious and complex, drowned in unnecessary details. His main character, like a clown lost in a labyrinth, never found his way. His second novel, entangled in the shadow of unintentional plagiarism, forced him to stop his journey. And now, his third novel, which he thought was his best, was trapped in a horrifying incestuous plot.
He sighed deeply, running his hand through his messy hair. Reader reviews, mostly positive, felt like an ironic slap. Fake praise from anonymous accounts only added to the emptiness in his chest.
He got up from his chair, his body stiff. He needed fresh air. The minimart at the end of the street became his destination. A few packs of instant noodles and cold drinks became his companions in the cold night.
On his way back, a strange feeling arose. Faint footsteps behind him. Not an illusion, he thought. He quickened his pace, his heart pounding. A thief? A stalker? Or… something more terrifying?
He ran, without looking back. When he got home, his breath was ragged. Just an illusion, he whispered. But, deep down, there was a glimmer of hope. Hope for a little trouble, a little tension in his boring life.
Four months working at fat man's Shop. The first two months were spent in silence, trapped within himself. The last two months? He found his escape. Among the laughter and jokes of his friends, his fear slowly faded. He found freedom of expression, even deliberately making small mistakes to evoke laughter.
Five in the afternoon marked the end of his shift. He went home to a silent house. His father was at work, his mother was asleep on the couch, and his younger sibling was locked in their room. A long-standing, silent routine.
He saw his mother wake up, a faint smile etched on her face. "It's dinner time," she said.
He hesitated for a moment. He wanted to run to his room, immerse himself in the virtual world. But his mother's gaze stopped him. The silence of the house…
He sighed, his fear returning, this time not because of the shadow that followed him that night, but because of the loneliness that gripped his family. He realized there was a bigger problem than his failed novel. The failure to build a warm relationship with his family.
He slammed his phone softly onto the bed. The still-lit screen displayed the bustling WhatsApp group messages. A thin smile formed on his lips, but his expression turned serious a moment later. He stared at the plain white ceiling of his room, his mind wandering.
He spent hours playing games and surfing social media, an escape from a reality that felt heavy. However, the escape couldn't hold back the emptiness that slowly gnawed at his heart. The failure to write, the cold relationship with his family, and even the mystery of the person following him were no longer on his mind. He felt foolish for being afraid of something he had hoped for.
He thought about his tired mother, his sibling who was always locked in their room, and his father who was rarely home. Did they also feel the same silence as him? Did they also feel trapped in a boring routine?
His thoughts swirled, finding no answers. Frustration began to take hold of him. The failure to write a novel felt like a curse, proof of his inability. He felt like a failure as a child, a sibling, and a writer.
Suddenly, anger bubbled up inside him. He hit the pillow hard, venting the frustration he had been holding back. Writing, family, work at the shop—everything felt so heavy. He felt tired, very tired.
With ragged breaths, he got out of bed. He walked to the window, staring out at the darkness of the night. The bustling city seemed so far away, so different from the silence that enveloped his heart.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Sleep. That was the only thing he could do right now. Tomorrow, he had to work. Tomorrow, he had to face it all again.
With weary steps, he returned to his bed. He turned off the light, letting the darkness engulf him. The hope for a better tomorrow felt faint, but he closed his eyes anyway, hoping to find some peace in his sleep. Hopefully tomorrow, he could find a little light amidst the darkness that enveloped his life.
The morning sun shone on his still-sleepy face. Today, it was his turn to be a cargo lifter at fat man's Shop. His task was simple: arrange the newly arrived goods and move them to the store shelves. However, this physical task turned out to be quite tiring.
He was struggling with large boxes of soft drinks when he heard strange murmurs nearby. A high school girl with long, flowing hair and thick glasses was standing near the comic book shelf. She was muttering to herself, her voice barely audible, but he managed to catch a few words: "... bleak future... destiny... hidden power..."
He furrowed his brow. The girl seemed lost in her own fantasy world, unaware of the people around her. She muttered about destiny and hidden power, with a serious expression on her face. He smiled wryly. Chuunibyou, he thought. The girl was really showing her chuunibyou nature in public.
He himself had experienced it. In his teenage years, he had also been obsessed with fictional things, with fantasies about superpowers and epic adventures. However, as time went on, he realized it was just an illusion. He had given up on those dreams, accepting a reality that sometimes felt bitter.
He watched the girl for longer. She seemed so serious, so lost in her own world. He felt a little pity. He remembered how frustrated he used to be when he realized that the real world was not what he imagined. Maybe the girl was going through the same thing.
He sighed. He decided not to bother her. Let the girl dream as much as she wanted. After all, he himself felt more comfortable with reality, even though it sometimes felt heavy. He preferred to focus on his work, arranging the boxes that felt heavier and heavier in his hands. Today, he had to finish all his work quickly so he could go home and rest. Maybe he could go back to writing his novel tonight. This time, he would try to write something more realistic, something closer to the reality he lived in.
He cycled slowly on the twilight streets. The streetlights illuminated his tired face. In a small park near his house, he saw a group of teenagers gathered. A young man, probably his age, was the center of attention. He was surrounded by a few girls, laughing and joking. A sight that reminded him of the harem anime he used to watch.
Usually, seeing such a sight would trigger envy in him. However, this time it was different. He didn't feel envious. Instead, he felt admiration. He admired the young man who managed to have such a warm and enjoyable social relationship. He himself struggled to build close relationships with others.
He sped up his bicycle, pretending not to see them. He was just a stranger to them, and they were strangers to him. There was no point in watching them any longer. He better go home and rest.
At home, dinner was as usual. He ate quietly, listening to his mother and sibling chat. After dinner, he went straight to his room, cleaned himself up, and went to sleep.
The next day, he went back to work at fat man's Shop. He did his work as usual, lifting goods, arranging shelves, and joking with his friends. In the afternoon, he cycled home again, passing the small park. And again, he saw the young man surrounded by his harem.
Again? No... I'm crazy, I must be wrong. Maybe it's just a coincidence.
He felt a little strange. Today felt exactly like yesterday. He did the same things, saw the same things. Boredom started to arise. He felt trapped in a boring routine, a routine that didn't bring any change to his life.
After dinner, he sat on his bed, pondering his monotonous days. He realized that he had been caught in a repeating cycle: work, go home, eat, sleep, and repeat it all again the next day. No progress, no change. Just a boring routine and a feeling of emptiness that continued to haunt him. Sleep became the only escape from a reality that felt so boring. He closed his eyes, hoping tomorrow would be different, even though he wasn't sure about it.
The sun rose again, illuminating a day that felt so familiar. He went to work, did his job at fat man's Shop, and went home by bicycle. In the small park, the young man with his harem was still there, laughing and joking like yesterday.
Didn't I get over my chuunibyou? I'm not crazy... Am I?...
This time, he stopped for a moment. He looked at them with a sharper gaze. Something felt very strange. Today was exactly the same as yesterday, even more so. The conversations they had, the jokes they made, everything was exactly the same. This wasn't just a coincidence.
He felt his heart pounding fast. He felt a different fear, a deeper fear than the fear of thieves or stalkers. This was the fear of something inexplicable, something beyond his understanding.
He arrived at the front door of his house, his body trembling. He didn't go in right away. He stood there, staring at the house that looked so ordinary, yet felt so strange. Something was wrong, something very wrong. He felt an overwhelming discomfort, a bad feeling that couldn't be ignored.
What's going on?
His mind raced, trying to find a logical explanation. Was he dreaming? Was he having a mental breakdown? Or… was something even weirder happening? He didn't know. He really didn't know what was going on, but he was sure something was very wrong, something hidden behind his daily routine that felt so boring and repetitive. The inexplicable fear was closing in on him, making him feel trapped in a reality that felt so strange and terrifying. He had to find out what was happening. He had to find the answer.