Leo Hayashi's life was nothing more than an endless stretch of wasted days.
Not lived. Not survived. Just… killed.
The cracked phone in his hand showed 2:43 AM in the glow of its dimmed screen.
He lay flat on his bed, the thin blanket tangled around his legs, scrolling aimlessly through random community boards and meme sites. Occasionally, a weak chuckle escaped him — but it died before it could touch his eyes.
The room around him was a quiet mess. The curtains were always drawn, sealing him off from the world. Empty ramen cups sat stacked in the corner like pathetic trophies. The desk was covered in a thin layer of dust, surrounded by piles of manga leaning at dangerous angles. Dirty clothes were scattered across the floor.
The faint smell of sweat, old food, and cheap detergent lingered in the air.
From down the hall, a faint clinking of glass broke the stillness.
His father was still awake. That meant the whiskey bottle wasn't empty yet.
Leo froze, phone still in hand. If he left his room now, he'd hear that voice. And he didn't want to hear that voice. Not tonight. Not ever again.
He tilted the phone slightly, changing tabs out of habit.
The search bar already had muscle memory of his fingers: "Solo Leveling read online."
It wasn't even about reading anymore — he could recite the first chapter from memory. Sung Jin-Woo, the weakest hunter, is struggling to survive dungeons far beyond his ability. Everyone is mocking him. Everyone was certain he'd never amount to anything.
Leo read it again anyway.
Because he understood it.
Because in a small, pathetic way… he was Sung Jin-Woo.
---
The yelling started.
Leo didn't flinch. He simply turned the volume on his phone down until the glowing panels of the manhwa were silent.
It didn't matter.
Their voices were still louder.
His father's drunken shouts.
His mother's sharp, bitter replies.
The same words. The same fights. The same cycle.
And like always… his name appeared in the crossfire.
"Your useless son—"
"That's YOUR blood—"
Leo's eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, where a crack in the plaster had grown into a jagged line like a crooked lightning bolt. He'd been watching it spread for years. Waiting for it to fall.
The footsteps came next — heavy, unsteady, coming straight toward his room.
The door slammed open, flooding the room with harsh yellow light from the living room.
"What the hell did you do to the electricity bill?" his father demanded. His hair was disheveled, his shirt half-unbuttoned, belt hanging loosely from his jeans. His breath reeked of alcohol.
Leo didn't answer. He didn't even look up.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!"
A fistful of hoodie fabric yanked him halfway off the bed.
"It's not me," Leo muttered.
"What?"
"I said… It's not me. I didn't touch the heater. I didn't—"
The slap cut him off. His cheek burned hot.
"You think you can talk back to me?"
From the hallway came his mother's voice, cold and dismissive.
"Why bother with him? He's already a lost cause."
Leo didn't react. His father shoved him back onto the bed, muttering something under his breath as he turned to leave. His mother didn't even glance his way as she followed.
The door swung shut. Darkness returned.
---
He lay there, staring at nothing. The sting in his cheek faded into a dull ache.
School was no better.
Three guys liked to corner him in the hallway near the gym, grinning as they knocked his bag out of his hands. One of them always called him "Halfie" — a reminder that his lighter hair and sharper eyes made him stand out in all the wrong ways.
Too Japanese for the foreigners.
Too foreign for the Japanese.
He never fought back. Not because he couldn't — but because there was no point.
---
The only thing that kept him breathing was fiction.
In books, manga, and manhwa, people like him could rise. They could shatter their limits, crush their enemies, and rewrite their fate.
In reality, he couldn't even keep his lunch from being stolen.
Sung Jin-Woo had been weak. Pathetically weak. And then, one day… he wasn't.
Leo envied him.
No — he wanted to be him.
He wanted the System to appear before his eyes. He wanted a voice telling him to grow stronger. He wanted… anything but this.
---
The phone now read 3:19 AM.
Leo lay there in silence, and the thought returned — the one that had been gnawing at the back of his mind for months.
No one was coming to save him.
Not in fiction.
Not in reality.
It wasn't a revelation. It was just the truth.
He didn't write a note. No one'd want to read it.
He didn't cry. His tears had run dry years ago.
He didn't pray. God had never answered before.
He simply decided. Quietly.
The last thing he did was pick up his phone one more time.
He opened his gallery.
There it was — the cover of Solo Leveling.
Sung Jin-Woo stood tall in the image, black coat billowing behind him, eyes burning with determination.
Leo stared at it for a long moment.
"If there's another world…" he whispered into the empty room, "make me strong."
The rest was silence.
---
A/N: Any Thoughts?