The classroom was filled with noise—students laughing, talking, and sharing stories about their lives. But in the last row, someone sat quietly, his attention fixed on the pages of a novel.
For him, books were better than reality.
In those stories, heroes fought monsters, traveled across magical worlds, and discovered hidden destinies. Life there was exciting and meaningful.
Reality, however, was different.
He was just an ordinary college student. No special talent, no popularity, nothing that made him stand out. Most people in the class barely noticed his existence.
Except the bullies.
"Hey, look at him again," one boy said, walking toward his desk with a smirk. "Always reading those stupid novels."
Two other boys followed him.
Before he could react, one of them suddenly snatched the novel from his hands.
"Give it back," he said quietly, reaching for it.
"Oh? You want it back?" the boy laughed, holding the book above his head.
The others circled around, amused.
He tried again, stepping closer. "Please… that's mine."
But instead of returning it, the boy ripped the first page.
Rrrrip.
The sound of paper tearing echoed in the classroom.
His eyes widened.
"Stop! Don't—"
Another page tore.
Then another.
Within seconds, the novel he had been reading was ripped apart.
The boys laughed loudly and tossed the torn pieces onto his desk.
"Maybe now you'll start living in the real world," one of them mocked before they all walked away, still laughing.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Then slowly, he bent down and picked up the torn pages from the floor.
Carefully… gently… as if the book was something fragile and precious.
He returned to his seat and stared at the damaged pages in silence.
No one in the classroom paid attention.
For everyone else, it was just another joke.
But for him… it felt like something important had been taken away.
Later that evening, he returned to the small apartment he rented near the college.
The moment he stepped inside, the familiar silence greeted him.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Just emptiness.
He didn't even bother changing his clothes.
Instead, he immediately took out his phone and called the people he missed the most.
His parents.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
He slowly lowered the phone and whispered to himself with a faint, sad smile.
"Maybe they're busy…"
Just as he was about to put the phone away, it suddenly rang again.
His eyes lit up.
He quickly answered the call.
"Mom—"
But before he could say anything else, a cold voice came from the other side.
"Vevan, how many times have I told you not to call me like this?"
He froze.
"I don't have time to answer your calls," she continued impatiently. "And neither does your father."
"But I just—"
"You're there to focus on your studies. Stop calling me for no reason."
Before he could speak again—
The call ended.
The silent screen stared back at him.
He slowly lowered the phone.
After a moment, he murmured quietly to himself.
"…But I just miss you."
There was no one there to hear it.
With a heavy sigh, he walked silently into the bathroom.
Later that night, after eating a simple dinner, he prepared to go to bed.
The wind outside had become strong, causing the curtains near the window to flutter loudly.
He walked over to close the window.
But just as he reached for it—
A sudden flash of light appeared outside.
He blinked in surprise.
"At this time?" he murmured.
For a moment, he assumed it was thunder lightning.
But then he frowned slightly.
"…Wait. It's not even monsoon season."
The sky had been clear all evening.
"Maybe I'm imagining things…"
He shook his head and reached forward to close the window.
But just as he was about to shut it—
Another strange flash appeared outside the window… 🌌