Year 2032 — Greasy Corner, Arkansas
There was a quiet city tucked away from the busy highways and shining towers of the modern world. Most people passed by without noticing it. The streets were narrow, the buildings old, and the air carried the faint smell of dust and oil.
In one corner of the city stood a small apartment building, worn down by time. On the second floor, behind thin curtains and cracked windows, someone lived alone.
Morning light slipped through those curtains and pressed against a pair of closed eyes.
Too bright.
Too early.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The alarm clock screamed, tearing apart the silence.
The boy on the bed sucked in a sharp breath and shot upright, his heart pounding hard against his chest.
For a moment, the world felt wrong.
Walls.Ceiling.A chair in the corner with clothes thrown over it.
No claws.No glowing eyes.No towering monster.
Slowly, his shoulders relaxed.
He ran a hand through his messy hair and let out a long breath.
"…Just the alarm."
The dream still clung to him. The heavy air. The heat of battle. The massive shadow standing right in front of him.
He had been so close.
So close.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A sharp click of his tongue broke the quiet. He reached out and slammed his hand onto the clock, silencing it.
His fingers tightened around the plastic frame.
"Do you know how big that thing was?"
The room stayed silent.
Of course it did.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The dream replayed in broken pieces—the monster's size, its presence, the moment right before his final strike.
His jaw tightened.
"One more second," he said quietly. "Just one… and it would've been over."
Reality slowly returned.
The image of the clock flashed through his mind.
Too clear. Too cruel.
Kaito's eyes widened as realization hit him all at once.
"Shit. I'm late."
The words slipped out, followed by a tight breath. His chest felt heavy.
"…I'm really screwed."
There was no time to panic.
He jumped out of bed, moving on instinct. Clothes were pulled on in a rush—shirt inside out, fixed halfway through. Shoes barely tied. He grabbed a slice of bread from the table and stuffed it into his mouth as he ran.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Cold morning air rushed against his face as he burst outside. His shoes struck the road hard, each step echoing through the quiet street. His breathing quickly turned rough and uneven, the taste of dry bread filling his mouth.
The city blurred past him.
Closed shops lined the road. Streetlights flickered weakly as the sun rose higher. Trash bags sat near the curb, and the smell of dust and oil hung in the air. His backpack bounced against his back, throwing off his balance with every step.
His legs began to burn.
Then a sudden thought pushed its way through the noise.
Did I lock the door?
His breath hitched, and his steps lost their rhythm. The sound of the city faded as his heartbeat grew loud in his ears.
I locked it, he told himself.
He always did.
But the image wouldn't leave him—the door slightly open, the quiet room behind it, everything he owned sitting there without anyone watching over it.
His chest tightened.
"…No," he muttered, shaking his head while still running. "I locked it."
He tried to keep going, but the feeling stayed with him, heavy and stubborn.
What if he hadn't?
The thought dug in deeper with every step until his pace finally slowed to a stop.
"…Damn it."
He turned around.
"I can't ignore this."
Kaito sprinted back toward the apartment building, lungs burning as he reached the door and grabbed the handle.
It didn't move.
Locked.
He bent forward slightly, hands on his knees, catching his breath. A short laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
"…That was actually convenient."
Straightening up, he nodded once.
"Maybe I should listen to my mind more often."
Then reality caught up with him.
He wasn't at the university.
He was still standing outside his apartment.
His shoulders slumped.
"Well," he muttered as he turned back around, "I'm still screwed."
He started running again, faster than before.
His feet slammed against the pavement. Each breath burned his throat as the road stretched endlessly ahead. Cars passed by, and somewhere nearby, a bicycle bell rang. The city was fully awake now.
"At this speed," he thought between breaths, "I might actually break a world record."
Something suddenly blew past him.
He glanced to the side.
A kid—shorter than him, lighter than him—was sprinting ahead, looking completely relaxed, like this was nothing more than a warm-up.
Kaito stared for a second, lungs screaming.
"…Wow," he muttered. "So that record was never mine to begin with."
The streets widened as he ran. Buildings grew taller. More people appeared, all moving toward the same place.
Then he saw it.
STEM University stood ahead, its tall gates marking the entrance. The name was carved deeply into dark metal, impossible to miss. Beyond it, buildings of glass and white stone reflected the morning sun. Wide stairs led up to the main building, banners swaying gently in the breeze.
Students filled the paths, their voices blending into a steady hum.
Kaito crossed through the gate and finally slowed to a stop. He bent forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
After a moment, he lifted his head and looked at the main building.
"…I made it."
Barely.
Perfect, I get the vibe now. Here's a more immersive, light-novel style version—still clean and simple, but with presence, body language, and quiet tension, like the reader is standing right there:
The university gate loomed ahead as he pulled out his ID and scanned it.Beep.Denied.
He frowned and tried again.Another beep.
His fingers tightened around the card. "Stupid machine," he muttered under his breath.
"Problem?"
A guard had stopped beside him.
He handed over his ID. The guard scanned it on his computer, eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the screen.
"Hmm… you've got an unpaid semester bill. Deadline was yesterday."
His chest tightened. Words rushed out, uneven. "I—I'll pay within a week. I'll talk to the finance department."
The guard looked at him, confused for a moment. "Kid, finals start the day after tomorrow. I'm not even a student, but I know that."
He let out a slow breath, then stepped aside. "It's not my job to hold you here. I'll give you a bypass this time but visit the financial dependent after the class i might let you in next time but you might face trouble getting the exam paper."
The gate opened.
He reached the classroom and pushed the door open.
His breath was uneven, chest rising fast, throat dry enough that even a glass of water felt like it could save him.
At the front of the room, Miss Makima was writing math problems on the board. She was just about to speak when the door swung open.
The sound cut through the room.
Silence fell—sudden and heavy, as if a shockwave had pressed the air flat.
Miss Makima paused. The chalk stopped mid-stroke. She turned around, a trace of annoyance flickering across her face before settling into a calm smile.
"Mr. Kaito," she said lightly, "that's not a polite way to enter a classroom."
A few eyes shifted toward him.
"And would you like to explain why you arrived fifteen minutes before my class ends?"
Kaito bowed his head slightly, still struggling to catch his breath. His words came out broken but polite. "I—had an issue with my ID. I couldn't enter the campus. It… took a long time."
Miss Makima studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Come in," she said. "We'll talk after class.
As he walked toward his desk, a foot slid out into his path.
He didn't see it.
His leg caught, his balance vanished, and the next moment his body hit the floor hard.
Pain rushed through him—sharp, messy, everywhere at once. His palms stung, his knees burned, and his arm twisted at an angle that made his breath hitch.
The boy who did it pulled his leg back instantly, shifting in his seat as if nothing had happened.
A low sound spread through the room.
Whispered laughter.
Some students covered their mouths, shoulders shaking. Others stared openly, eyes bright with interest, like this was something entertaining. A few didn't even bother to look up.
Kaito pushed himself up slowly. His body protested. His hand trembled when he tried to move it, his leg refusing to cooperate properly.
Not broken… just joints, he realized, jaw tightening.
He straightened, breathing shallow, then lifted his head.
His gaze locked onto the boy.
Sharp. Cold. Angry.
For a brief moment, the noise faded.
"Kaito."
Miss Makima's voice cut in, calm and flat. "Be careful. There's no need to rush. You're already in class."
She paused only long enough to add, "Take your seat."
Then she turned back to the board, chalk moving again as if nothing had happened.
Kaito clenched his hand, ignored the pain, and walked the rest of the way in silence.
In the middle of the class, Yui leaned back slightly.
She lowered her voice and whispered to the girl behind her, "Hey… what's with that boy? I mean, he got tripped and didn't react at all. And why didn't anyone defend him?"
Momo answered without much interest, her tone flat.
"Oh, him?"
"He never defends himself. That's why people like picking on him. They do it for fun."
She let out a small scoff. "So dumb."
Yui said nothing.
She slowly turned her head and looked back at Kaito.
He didn't notice.
His eyes were distant, his thoughts heavy, stuck on numbers he couldn't escape—fees, deadlines, and the semester hanging by a thread.
The classroom faded around him as one question kept repeating in his mind.
How am I going to clear it?
The class ended, chairs scraping softly as students began to leave.
Voices faded one by one.
Kaito stayed seated.
He watched everyone pass him—bags slung over shoulders, quiet laughs, careless steps—until the room slowly emptied. When the last student left, the silence felt heavier than before.
Only then did he stand.
He walked straight to Miss Makima's office.
The hallway lights buzzed faintly. He waited outside the door, eyes fixed on the floor. Minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. His patience thinned, frustration pressing against his chest.
Twenty-five minutes later, footsteps echoed down the hall.
Miss Makima arrived.
She unlocked the door, stepped inside, turned on the lights, and sat behind her desk with a small sigh—like someone finally settling into a familiar place.
"Kaito," she said calmly. "Have a seat."
He walked in and sat down.
His thoughts wouldn't slow. His hands rested on his lap, trembling just enough that only he could feel it. He kept his back straight, breathing shallow, trying to stay composed.
Miss Makima folded her hands together and leaned forward. Her eyes met his—steady, sharp.
The atmosphere changed.
The room felt smaller.
"Mr. Kaito," she began, her voice serious, "I've noticed you've been late for several days."
She glanced at a file on her desk. "I also checked your records. You live alone. No guardian."
She paused, letting the words settle.
"That may explain things," she continued, "but this is still a professional environment. Like everyone else, you are expected to follow the rules. You understand that, right?"
"Yes," Kaito replied softly.
She nodded. "Finals are the day after tomorrow. Twenty percent of your final grade comes from attendance."
She looked at him carefully. "Based on your record, I should only give you ten percent."
Kaito's fingers tightened slightly.
"But," she added, "I want to give you the full twenty."
His eyes lifted.
"There's a condition," she said. "You cannot be late or miss a single class from now on. If you do, I'll reduce it back to ten percent. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "Thank you… for being generous."
She held his gaze for a moment, then continued.
"As for your exam payment—make sure it's cleared before the exam."
Her tone was calm but firm. "Tomorrow is a national holiday. The bank will be closed. Your exam is at two in the afternoon the following day. The bank opens at ten."
She tilted her head slightly. "You know what that means, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," Kaito replied gently. "I'll handle it before the deadline."
"Good."
She leaned back. "One more thing. Your grades aren't strong enough. If this continues, we won't be able to recommend you for an internship after graduation."
She glanced at the file again. "Your CGPA is 2.67, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"At least bring it up to 3.30," she said. "Try."
"I will," he replied.
She nodded once. "Alright. You may leave."
Kaito stood, bowed slightly, and walked out.
The door closed behind him.
The hallway felt quieter than before.
He walked away with a small weight pressing down on his chest .
Lost in thought, Kaito stepped out onto the road .
The city moved around him—cars passing, people talking—but it all felt distant. His mind was heavy, tangled with deadlines and numbers that refused to disappear.
His feet carried him to a familiar place
The clothing store.
He walked in and headed straight past the racks. Without changing into his uniform, he went to the owner's office and knocked softly.
"Come in."
The owner sat behind his desk, a cup of coffee in one hand, a few papers spread out before him. He glanced at the documents, his expression dull and tired. The numbers clearly weren't kind this month.
Kaito stood there for a second.
Then, without thinking it through, the words slipped out.
"Sir… can I get this month's pay?"
The moment he said it, his chest tightened. His fingers curled slightly at his side. He felt nervous—like he had just stepped onto thin ice.
The owner looked up.
One glance at Kaito's face told him enough.
He sighed lightly and set the coffee down. "You know the company rules," he said calmly. "We pay on the tenth. Today isn't even the first."
He gave a small shake of his head. "There's no point asking right now."
Kaito swallowed and explained everything—the fees, the deadline, the exam. His voice stayed quiet, careful, like he was afraid of pushing too far.
The owner listened, leaning back in his chair.
When Kaito finished, the man smiled—not cold, not warm. Just tired.
"Everyone's carrying their own problems, kid," he said gently. "Life's like that."
He paused, then added, "You'll have to find a solution some other way."
Kaito lowered his gaze.
Then the owner continued, his tone softer, "That said… "I'll make sure you get your payment on the fifth."
Kaito looked up, surprised.
"That's the best I can do," the owner said with a small smile. "Alright?"
"Yes," Kaito replied quickly. "Thank you."
He bowed slightly and turned to leave.
As he stepped out of the office
After that, Kaito went straight to the changing room and slipped into his duty uniform.
Once ready, he headed downstairs.
The store was a two-floor building, its front made entirely of glass. From outside, it looked clean and premium, lights reflecting softly against the street. Inside, neatly arranged racks filled both floors.
There were seven staff members in total.
Four managed the ground floor.
The second floor was quieter.
That was Kaito's place.
Up there, he worked with two others—Ayame and Haruno.
Haruno was a calm guy. Easygoing. He never crossed personal lines, never caused trouble, and mostly kept to himself.
Ayame was the opposite.
She spoke with her hands, her face, her heart. She liked open conversations, emotions spilling naturally into every word.
That evening passed like usual.
They checked clothes, helped customers, reviewed sales, and slowly prepared for closing.
Then Ayame noticed it.
Kaito was quieter than usual.
She leaned slightly toward Haruno and whispered, "Hey… isn't he acting kind of weird today? He looks a little down."
Haruno replied without even looking up. "Nah. Looks normal to me."
Ayame frowned. "Never mind."
She walked straight toward Kaito.
Stopping in front of him, she leaned in—way too close, barely a few centimeters apart.
"Aren't you too quiet today?" she asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I mean, you're usually quiet… but today you're too quiet."
Her big eyes stared sparkling .
Kaito froze.
Then panicked.
He stepped back quickly. "Y-you… you're too close!"
He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. "It's nothing. Just a usual day."
With that, he turned and walked toward another clothing section, pretending nothing had happened.
Ayame followed.
She caught up and gently grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. Her expression changed—no smile this time.
"You know," she said calmly, "I was in the office earlier. Updating the website."
She looked at him. "I heard your conversation about the money."
Kaito stiffened.
She continued casually, "I can help you."
His face heated up instantly. "No, it's okay. I already managed."
He tried to walk away.
She stepped right in front of him.
Her face turned oddly serious—"Look, you idiot," she said. "If you want help, you need to ask. All this mumbling and acting like nothing's wrong won't fix your problem."
Kaito stared at her for a second.
Then he smiled—"I need some money," he admitted, and quietly told her everything.
Ayame didn't hesitate.
She reached into her bag, pulled out some cash, and placed it in his hand.
"Here," she said lightly. "5,000. That's all I have."
Kaito looked at it, then at her.
At first, he tried to refuse.
But after a moment, he closed his fingers around it.
"Thanks," he said with a small smile.
On his way home, Kaito walked slowly, his steps heavy against the empty street.
Streetlights lined the road, their pale glow stretching long shadows across the footpath.
Ten thousand more…
The number repeated in his head again and again.
He barely noticed where he was going.
Then—
A streetlamp flickered.
The bulb blinked once… twice… then steadied. Kaito stopped without realizing why. His eyes drifted toward the pole.
A poster was taped there.
Bright. Bold.
ARM WRESTLING COMPETITION
One-day event
Winner: 20,000
Runner-up: 10,000
Second Runner: 5,000
His heart skipped.
He stepped closer, reading it again just to be sure. Tomorrow. One day only.
For a moment, doubt tried to creep in.
Then his hands slowly clenched at his sides.
This is it.
Before he could overthink it, he pulled out his phone and registered on the spot. His thumb moved fast, almost afraid he'd change his mind if he stopped.
Registration complete.
He let out a long breath.