Beep. Beep. Beep.
The alarm clock kept ringing, but he didn't move. His hand finally came out from under the blanket and slammed the clock shut.
Another day.
He sat up on his bed, rubbed his eyes, and let out a small sigh. The room was quiet—too quiet. A single fan turned lazily above his head, and the sunlight peeked in through the curtain.
He looked around. Same messy desk. Same crumpled notebooks. Same old mirror.
And then, as always, he looked at himself.
Uncombed hair that stuck out in all directions. A thin frame with no muscle. Dark circles under his eyes from sleeping too late. He wasn't handsome. Wasn't strong. And definitely not someone anyone looked at twice.
Just an ordinary boy.
No, maybe not even that.
"I'm so plain it hurts," he muttered with a weak smile.
He got up and went to brush his teeth. Staring at the mirror, he spoke again—but not to himself.
"To the superhuman out there, I know you exist. You're just hiding."
He always said that every morning. Like a little ritual. He didn't know why. Maybe because he truly believed it. That someone out there had powers. Someone who was living among them, acting normal, but secretly strong.
He admired that. Not the strong part, but the hiding part. Staying quiet. Keeping their strength a secret. Then showing it only when it mattered.
That was cool.
He rinsed his mouth and got dressed. His school shirt was wrinkled, and the tie was missing—again. He didn't care. He never liked uniforms anyway.
Bag over his shoulder, he stepped outside.
The road was the same as always. A few people walking. Some kids running to catch their school buses. Shops slowly opening. The sky was blue, but not too bright.
He liked walking to school. Not because of school itself—he was horrible at studying—but because of her.
The girl.
He didn't know her name. Never talked to her. But she went to the same school. And she stood at the gate every morning, talking to her friends, laughing, smiling.
He loved that smile.
He never had the guts to go near her. Just watching from a distance was enough. It made his day feel less empty.
Today, like always, he hoped to see her.
He crossed the small tea stall where the old uncle waved at him. He gave a small nod back.
Then, just as he was about to reach the bend before school, he heard crying.
A small boy was sitting near a lamppost, rubbing his eyes. He looked lost. Probably around five or six years old. No one else seemed to notice.
He walked closer.
"Hey… are you okay?" he asked softly.
The boy looked up, still crying. "I can't find my mom…"
He looked around. No sign of anyone searching for a kid.
"Come on, let's stay here. Maybe she's nearby," he said, trying to keep the boy calm.
But suddenly, the boy got up and ran. "Mom!"
"Wait—!"
The boy ran straight toward the road.
A car was coming.
Without thinking, he dashed forward, grabbed the kid, and pushed him aside.
The world spun.
A loud honk.
A flash of pain.
Darkness.
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