It was 3:00 AM in the Services District.

  The streets were almost deserted, save for the automated cleaning trucks sweeping up the remnants of the previous day, and the low hum of electricity buzzing from the lampposts.

  Amidst this quiet, there was one distinct sound.

  Sluuuurp... Sluuup.

  The annoying sound of liquid being sucked from a nearly empty carton.

  Kai walked down the middle of the sidewalk, his black school blazer unbuttoned, hands buried deep in his pockets, while a carton of "Strawberry Milk" dangled from his mouth. His charcoal-grey hair, slicked back with precision, reflected the faint neon glow, and his dark red eyes stared ahead with utter boredom.

  He wasn't walking with the speed of the wind, nor the slowness of a loiterer. He walked with the rhythm of someone who "had nowhere to go, but didn't want to stay where he was."

  He reached the corner of the street and stopped.

  In front of him was "The Restaurant."

  Or what was left of it.

  The windows were completely shattered. The door was torn off its hinges and thrown inside. Black scorch marks covered the walls, and the floor was still damp from the fire suppression system's water. The yellow security tape was torn, fluttering in the night breeze.

  Kai looked at the destruction. He didn’t raise an eyebrow. He didn’t wonder, "Who did this?"

  He simply took the milk carton out of his mouth and looked at it with regret because it was finished.

  "Why doesn't anyone try to copy this restaurant?" Kai muttered aloud, addressing the void. "I mean, the recipe isn't a biological secret. Just stop putting plastic in the food."

  With athletic precision, he tossed the carton into a distant trash bin without looking, and continued walking.

  To him, this wasn't a "crime scene." It was just a "closed establishment."

  But, in the dark corner beside the ruined building, he caught a shadow moving.

  It was a man sitting cross-legged on the ground, wearing a suit that had been elegant sometime this morning, but was now covered in dust and wrinkles. He was holding his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

  Kai stopped and looked at him. It wasn't sympathy. It was just passing curiosity, like someone looking at a cat in an alleyway.

  "Restaurant... restaurant..." the man was muttering in a shaky voice, his eyes fixed on the ground. "It was a bad marketing idea... 'The loyal customer always comes back to us.' ... Whoever said that phrase never met Neomera's customers."

  Kai chuckled lightly. "The customer here doesn't know loyalty to just a restaurant."

  The man raised his head slowly. His face was pale, his eyes red from lack of sleep.

  "I knew it..." the man continued as if he hadn't heard Kai, returning to his conversation with his ghosts. "But I still had hope... I had another restaurant I was going to open... The second branch on the University District..."

  The man paused, letting out a stifled sob.

  "But it was shut down... That university is filthy... They said 'safety standards' weren't met after the last bombing incident... I hate that university... I hate Leontolix and Lunognosta..."

  The man buried his face in his knees again.

  "I just wanted to serve good food... and money... lots of it..."

  Kai looked at him for another moment.

  "Well," Kai said with a slight smile, as if delivering wisdom. "At least you didn't have to wash dishes today."

  Kai walked past the collapsed man, continuing his walk down the dark street.

  He left the man's last whispers suspended in the air, like a grievance destined to be ignored.”It's not my fault that Rank number 12 is evil.”

  "The University, huh?" Kai thought aloud, taking his hands out of his pockets to clasp them behind his head in relaxation. "Seems like a strict place... and boring... or..."

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  A cold breeze blew, moving a rebellious lock of his hair.

  "...Someone decided to open a new restaurant... If so, he better open it here and make sure to keep that plastic away."

  Kai disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind the destroyed restaurant, the broken man, and the city that was starting to prepare for another "normal" day.

  At the same time.

  "The Boy with the Red Streak" arrived at the student dorm gate of Auroralis Academy.

  He was wearing the same black school blazer he had walked out of the hospital in, which was the same one he wore during the fight. It was torn at the shoulder and stained with dried blood spots, but he didn't care to change it right now or even clean it. To him, it still performed its function: covering his body.

  The electronic door opened with a faint buzz.

  He entered the empty lobby. There was no night guard.

  He walked toward the elevator. His steps were heavy, not from sadness, but because his body was still screaming from the effects of the "internal pressure" he had exerted to blow up his throat.

  He reached the fourth floor. Walked down the silent corridor and stopped in front of room 326.

  He swiped his card. The door opened.

  The room was exactly as he left it. An unmade single bed, a desk with some books thrown carelessly on it, and a window overlooking the dark training grounds.

  He entered and closed the door behind him.

  He didn't throw himself onto the bed.

  He went straight to the small bathroom mirror.

  He looked at his reflection.

  Thick white bandages wrapped entirely around his neck, covering his lower jaw. His face was slightly pale due to the anesthesia, but there were no dark circles under his dark brown eyes.

  He didn't touch the bandage.

  Instead, his eyes narrowed with sharp focus.

  He remembered "The Boy with the Scar." He remembered the metal hand that went into his throat. He remembered the feeling of helplessness... then the feeling of the explosion.

  (The Nova Event...)

  He repeated the word in his mind, his eyes gleaming with a savage glint.

  He wasn't afraid. He didn't regret his crazy decision.

  He felt only one thing: "Struggle."

  He had tasted real combat, a fight against a monster that outclassed him by miles, a fight that nearly killed him. And now? Every other fight would seem lesser compared to this.

  (I need to heal quickly...)

  He took off his torn blazer and threw it on the chair. He felt his chest muscles, which were still aching.

  (...His adaptation made him survive. I made my power destroy me to survive. But so what?)

  He raised his hand and clenched his fist in front of the mirror.

  (Next time... I won't use the ability just to blow myself up. I'll use it to crush him.)

  He washed his face with cold water, avoiding the bandage, then went to the closet and put on another school blazer and a red shirt.

  (I don't feel tired right now, plus I have a leave.)

  The boy thought, but lay down on the bed.

  He closed his eyes.

  Then he got up for a moment and went to his desk, which had books scattered on it, and started looking for a book.

  (Did I throw it away?... That’s because it was an extra class... Should I ask the teacher about The Nova Event?... No... I'll search on my phone... I won't waste my leave!)

  He took out his phone and started typing about The Nova Event.

  (“Nova” is a temporary nuclear explosion...)

  The boy closed his phone while putting it on the charger.

  (Yes, a useless search. Why... If the theory was designed by scientists, why don't they just put up a page for the theory?) The boy grumbled internally.

  He got up, sitting on the bed looking into the mirror with a serious gaze.

  (The Library?... I don't want to go to the academy... Should I go to the library?... But it's better than staying for hours in classes... We are in the middle of the night, the library is closed... And if I go in the morning, it will be crowded... So...)

  The boy stood up.

  (I just have to go to the Academy Library.)

  He started leaving, heading towards the library.

  A few minutes later.

  "The Boy" entered the Academy Library.

  The glass door opened silently, welcoming him with the smell of old paper mixed with chemical cleaning agents. The hall was massive, bigger than he imagined. Endless rows of wooden and metal shelves extending into the depth of the darkness, each shelf stacked with thousands of books.

  The boy stopped, looking at this "army" of paper.

  (Too many...) The boy thought, his eyes scanning the place with annoyance. (So I got in... How do I find a book in this jungle?)

  He took one step forward, then stopped. Imagining himself walking down every aisle and reading every title. The idea itself was harder than fighting.

  He breathed deeply (which hurt his throat a little), and stepped back toward the entrance, where the "Automated Inquiry" desk was.

  He sat in front of the computer screen which was displaying the academy logo spinning slowly.

  He put his fingers on the keyboard and started typing with complete seriousness:

  How do you find the book you want in the library?

  He pressed "Search."

  An instant message appeared on the screen: [Did you mean: Using the Search Catalog?]

  The boy clicked "Yes" with boredom.

  The screen changed to show a simple search field titled: [Auroralis Archive].

  (Better.)

  The boy deleted his previous sentence and typed what he really wanted:

  The Stellar Ascension Theory

  He pressed "Search."

  Hundreds of results appeared.

  Introduction to Stellar Ascension (For Beginners).

  History of the Theory...

  Psychophysics of the Vessel...

  He ignored the general titles. He moved the cursor down, looking for the word he heard.

  Nova Event

  The results dropped suddenly from hundreds to just three titles.

  Dynamics of Stellar Collapse...

  Theoretical Studies on Stable Star Limits.

  The Stellar Ascension: Updated Supplement - New Edition.

  He clicked on the third option.

  [Status: Available. Location: Section C, Shelf 4, 2nd Floor. Code: 88-SA].

  The boy stood up, having memorized the code.

  (Section C. 2nd Floor.)

  He walked confidently this time, bypassing the random aisles, and climbed the stairs. He found Section C. It was quieter and more isolated than the rest.

  He searched on the fourth shelf. He found the book. It was a thick volume with a dark blue cover, looking like it hadn't been opened much.

  He pulled it off the shelf.

  (Let's see what this Nova is...)

  The boy sat directly on the floor between the shelves, leaning his back against the books, and opened the heavy volume on his lap, ignoring the pain in his neck, ready to engage in a "struggle" of another kind. He opened the book and began reading silently.

  (Stellar Ascension Theory... I know this.) He flipped the pages... (Difference between Complete Nebula and Collapsed Nebula... Ridiculous, I am a Proto Star.) He continued flipping pages (Proto Star has three phases)... He continued flipping but stopped at a page (Proto Star - Stabilization Phase: The Esper reaches a primitive balance. They can now use their ability reliably, but it is still raw and limited.). The boy paused, looking at his hand. (Succeeded in stabilizing the fusion and is ready to ascend to the next phase, right?) The boy closed his eyes then continued flipping the page and stopped at the explanation of the Stable Star.

  (I am close to it. Exploring won't hurt.)

  The boy lifted the book to focus on the opening lines explaining the "Stable Star" phase when a small, colorful slip of paper fluttered out from between the pages, looking entirely out of place among the ancient, dusty volumes.

  He picked it up with a hint of curiosity, only to find a picture of Instructor Don Alter flashing his wide, corporate smile. Beneath it, in elegant, flamboyant font, was written:

  "Dear diligent student... instead of wasting your eyesight and precious time on this ancient book—which you likely won't understand due to its complex, archaic scientific language—why not purchase one of my books at a reasonable price? I possess all the knowledge that..."

  The boy didn't bother finishing the note. With a slow, indifferent motion, he crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the nearby trash bin.

  The bin wasn't empty; it was overflowing with dozens of similar colorful slips that the librarian or other students had clearly discarded for the same reason.

  The boy sat back, muttering in annoyance:

  "The rumor that his love for money reached the point of spending his free time tucking advertisements into every single book in this library... wasn't a lie at all."

  He sighed deeply, turning his gaze back to the dense, complicated page in front of him. He tried to read with renewed focus, feeling the onset of a headache, then whispered bitterly:

  "I hate the fact that he’s right... this book really is incomprehensible."

  He flipped to the next page in frustration. His eyelids began to grow heavy, drooping lower and lower until sleep finally claimed him over those rigid, frozen words.