"Fuck, man!" Dylan groaned inwardly, his eyes glazing over as they fixated on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. His professor's hand moved with a practiced, almost inhuman precision, scrawling a monstrous, alien derivation that looked more like a summoning ritual than anything remotely comprehensible.
"What the hell was I thinking when I willingly enrolled in this hellhole? I hate it here!" he raged silently, clutching his pen tight enough to snap it in two. Each day he spent at this godforsaken Tier-3 private engineering college was another nail in the coffin of his dreams. Regret gnawed at him relentlessly.
His skull throbbed with every incomprehensible word spewed from the professor's dry lips, like cursed incantations from a deranged wizard. No matter how hard Dylan tried to force his brain into gear, it refused to compute. The symbols on the board swam together into a meaningless jumble, caveman scribbles that mocked his very existence.
He clenched his jaw and slammed his forehead softly against the desk, cursing his life choices. "I must've been high when I thought this was a good idea," he muttered to himself, drowning in a sea of formulas and despair.
"Man, it'd be better to die than deal with this crap for the next four years," he whispered, his gaze drifting off as he fantasized—again—about being whisked away into a fantastical world, like in one of those anime series he binged late at night. A world of magic, swords, dragons—anything but this.
But of course, this was reality, where dreams were dead on arrival, and the only magic was watching your spirit slowly get crushed under the weight of expectations. Here, there was only misery, bills, and the constant looming specter of corporate slavery. Dylan could already see his future: working for a soul-sucking MNC, earning barely enough to survive, while some CEO's spoiled brat lived life on easy mode.
"Fuck this capitalist world," he muttered under his breath, his face contorting in a mix of bitterness and resignation.
It wasn't that he was a communist or anything—hell no. He didn't want to overthrow the system; he just wanted to not be broke. Being a CEO didn't sound bad. But for someone like him? That was a fantasy too far. His only realistic fate was working himself into an early grave, living paycheck to paycheck, all while his boss nagged him to death over metrics and deadlines.
Dylan wasn't built for this. He was a free spirit, a dreamer. He wanted to see the world—climb mountains, explore ancient ruins, wander through forests, and find peace in the unknown. But with his current trajectory? That dream would rot away, just like his passion. Corporate life wouldn't let him escape. He'd work until his back gave out, just to fatten the wallets of people who'd never worked a day in their lives.
"Grahhh! What's the point of all this crap if I'm just gonna end up a slave till I'm sixty?" The words boiled out of him. He slammed his hands against the desk, a sharp, thunderous sound echoing through the classroom.
Silence fell. Heads snapped toward him. His classmates stared in confusion, some with wide eyes, others snickering under their breath. At the front, the professor—an old, hunched man with a comb-over and a face like a crumpled paper bag—turned slowly, eyes narrowed in thinly veiled disgust.
"Dylan, get out of my class!" the professor barked, his voice as brittle and grating as his chalk.
Dylan blinked, snapping out of his rage spiral. He hadn't meant to make a scene—not like this. "I–I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to—"
"Out!" The professor's voice cracked like a whip. "You're the worst student I've ever had the misfortune of teaching! You don't pay attention, you disrupt the class—you're a nuisance to the students who actually care about their future!"
'Not this shit again…' Dylan bit his tongue, anger flaring behind his eyes. He knew better than to argue—he'd been down this road before. The old bastard had hated him from the moment he stepped foot into this college. No amount of apologizing would fix it. The man relished every opportunity to humiliate him.
Wordlessly, Dylan grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out of the class, ignoring the stares, the whispers, and the professor's venomous glare.
---
"Fuck this shit! I wish a giant boulder would just crush me already!" Dylan growled, kicking a loose pebble with frustration. It clattered down the path, rolling a few feet before stopping—as if even it had given up.
Each passing day made it harder for him to not despise himself. His grades were garbage. His social life was non-existent—despite the grand illusions he'd had of college being this magical experience. His classmates were out there living the dream, partying, making memories… while he wallowed alone in regret and envy.
College was supposed to be the best time of his life. Instead, it suffocated him. The loneliness was suffocating, crushing. And he knew—deep down—it was his fault. He couldn't blame anyone else.
His only escape? The fantasy worlds in anime and shows, where anything felt possible. Where people like him could be heroes, not corporate fodder.
"I swear, if a dimension portal opened right here, I'd jump in without hesitation," he muttered, kicking the pebble again, watching it roll aimlessly like his life.
He didn't even bother attending the next class. He needed air. Space. Time to cool down before he lost his mind completely.
**Cough* *Cough*
Dylan coughed as he passed a nearby construction site. Dust billowed into the air, coating his throat and stinging his eyes.
"Hey, man! Watch out!" a construction worker shouted, yanking Dylan back to reality. His eyes had been glued to his phone, watching anime as he aimlessly walked the footpath.
"Oh—sorry!" Dylan stepped aside, barely registering the worker's words.
Nearby, two workers stood by a rust-covered lift, nervously eyeing the massive stone slab being loaded onto its creaking platform.
"You think this thing can handle all that weight?" one asked, doubt in his voice.
"We'll find out soon enough," the other replied, both of them watching as the lift groaned under the load.
Crank…
The lift shuddered, screeching in protest as it began hauling the one-ton stone upward. The noise was horrifying—metal against metal, old joints straining to hold together.
Crank… Crack…
Suddenly, one of the corner joints gave way with a sharp snap. The entire platform lurched, and the stone slab—massive, unrelenting—plummeted.
"Hey! MOVE!" the worker screamed, his voice desperate.
******
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