Kairos sat on the cold, unforgiving linoleum floor, his back against a lonely tree. His gaze was locked on the monolithic wooden door of the test hall. It wasn't just a door anymore. It was a symbol of the universe's personal vendetta against him. His brain, fried from a night of wrestling with theorems and spilled beverages, could only replay one thought on a loop: *I was on time. I was right here. Why?
The world had shrunk to him and the door. He didn't hear the distant chatter of students leaving other classes, or the approaching footsteps of his friends.
"Bro."
The word cut through his fog of despair like a knife. Kairos's head, which felt like it was filled with lead, slowly lifted.
Robin, Sam, and Drake were standing there, forming a half-circle around his pathetic floor-camp. They looked tired, sure bags under their eyes, hair a mess but they also looked… clean. They hadn't been in a battle with a rogue water bottle. And most importantly, they looked like they'd done something.
"Why are you having a one-man funeral out here?" Robin asked, his smirk not quite reaching his eyes. "Did your brain finally blue screen for good?"
A new, horrifying feeling, colder than the floor, washed over Kairos. They weren't frantic. They weren't panicked. They were post-test!!!.
"You…" Kairos croaked, his voice broken. "Y-you guys… got in."
Sam blinked. "Well, yeah. It started at eight."
"I WAS HERE AT 7:59!" The words exploded out of Kairos, fueled by a surge of pure, undiluted injustice. He scrambled to his feet, pointing a trembling finger at the door. "I saw the time on my phone! I was right here! The door was closed! The sign said.." He gestured wildly to the infamous notice. "It said no entry! This is a conspiracy! The clock on the wall is probably fast! My phone is synced to atomic time, I'll have you know! This is an administrative coup!"
He was breathing heavily with some tears threatening to leave his eyes, his epic rant leaving him lightheaded.
Drake, who had been quietly observing the meltdown, scratched the back of his head. "Dude," he said, his tone the epitome of simple, logical calm. "Did you even, like, try the door?"
Kairos froze. His mouth, which had been open mid-tirade, slowly closed. The furious energy drained out of him, leaving behind a chilling void.
"...Ehh?"
"The door," Drake repeated, as if explaining that the sky was blue. "This old building. The doors get stuck sometimes. You can't just look at it. You gotta actually push it. Sometimes you gotta put your shoulder into it. It's a whole thing."
Silence.
The four of them turned in unison to look at the door. It sat there, innocent and menacing all at once.
A silent, terrible understanding began to dawn on Robin and Sam's faces. Their eyes widened as they glanced from the door to Kairos's utterly shell-shocked expression.
Kairos felt like he was moving through a nightmare. Very slowly, mechanically, he took the three steps toward the door. He reached out a hand, his movements stiff, as if he were a robot whose programming was failing. He wrapped his fingers around the cold metal handle. He took a deep, shuddering breath that was part hope, part utter terror.
He pushed.
Not a shove. Not a shoulder-check. Just a simple, basic push.
With a loud, groaning CREAK that echoed mockingly in the silent hallway, the door swung inward. Smoothly. Easily.
It revealed the empty test hall. Rows of empty chairs. Empty desks. The whiteboard wiped clean. A single, lonely pencil rolling in a slow, lazy circle on the floor, the only testament that anything had happened here at all.
Kairos stood in the doorway, his hand still on the handle. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. He could feel his soul gently detach from his body and begin floating toward the ceiling, desperate to escape the sheer, overwhelming absurdity of the situation.
He had survived an all-night study siege. He had battled a spilled drink that tried to drown his notes. He had negotiated with a window for the life of his scattered papers. He had been defeated by a suya wrapper. He had done all of that.
And then he had been defeated by a door he never tried to open.
He was the protagonist of the dumbest anime ever greenlit.
Behind him, Robin let out a low whistle. "Oh. Oh, man. Mess up."
Sam reached out and put a comforting hand on Kairos's rigid shoulder. "This is... a new level of unlucky. This is evolutionary. They're gonna study this in textbooks."
Drake just slowly nodded, a look of deep, profound respect on his face. "Legendary," he breathed. "You've achieved a new state of being. The Unpushed Door Paradox. You're a philosopher now."
Kairos finally moved. He slowly turned around to face his friends. His face was a perfect, blank mask of utter devastation. All the emotion had been scoured away, leaving behind only the pristine, calm emptiness of total defeat.
"I'm going to go lie down in the decorative fountain near the senate building," he stated, his voice utterly flat, devoid of any inflection. "Maybe the fish will have better life advice than I do. They seem to have their lives together. Constant swimming. Simple goals."
He didn't wait for a response. He just started walking down the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate, like a man heading to his own execution.
His friends watched the tragic figure retreat.
"So..." Sam said after a moment of heavy silence, breaking the spell. "Who's telling the professor that Kairos is gonna need a make-up test?"
"Not me," Robin and Drake said in perfect, instantaneous unison.
All three of them looked at each other. A silent, grim understanding passed between them. They knew, with absolute certainty, that Kairos was never, ever going to live this down. This was not a story that would fade in a week. This was the kind of legendary failure that gets brought up at his wedding roast.
From around the corner, they heard a distant, mournful cry that echoed through the halls:
"*WHYYYYYYYY?!*"
Yep. Never living it down.