At U.G university in the lecture hall buzzes softly with that familiar hum of bored students pretending to care. It's big, clean, modern—designed for learning but mostly used for daydreaming. Up front, the professor drones on, flipping through slides with all the energy of a wilted houseplant. Enough enthusiasm to make a sloth look caffeinated.
"—So when analyzing the socio-economic ripple effect across multi-urban zones, it's critical to observe the historical context of—"
Nobody is listening.
Nobody is listening. In the back corner by the window, a student—SEO JIHO—sits neatly with his notebook open, handwriting as clean as his posture. He listens, but his eyes keep drifting to the big window beside him where sunlight filters in like a tease. The weather is perfect. The sky is blue with white fluffy clouds lazily passing.
He taps his pen, jots something down. A soft whisper nearby breaks his rhythm. Then another. And another. The classroom volume starts to rise—unignorable side chatter.
Jiho shifts slightly in his seat, eyebrows pulling in concern. He glances to his side, where his classmate MINSEOK is almost vibrating in his chair from barely-contained excitement.
"Hey," Jiho leans in. "What's going on?"
Minseok looks at him, scandalized.
"Bro—what? You seriously didn't catch wind?"
"Wind of?" Jiho's face is blank.
"The Eight-Hundred Meter Inferno!"
Jiho blinks. Slowly. Twice.
"…That sounds like an action movie starring Vin Diesel."
Minseok throws his hands in the air.
"No, dude! It's the inter-university athletic championship. Happens every year. Eight-hundred meter race is like… the main event. The flaming centerpiece. You know!"
Jiho stares.
Across the aisle, Soojin butts in, uninvited.
"We've never won. Not even once. It's humiliating. People literally bet against us."
Minseok nods dramatically.
"Even the professors don't bother anymore. One of them just goes golfing."
From the row ahead, a deadpan voice joins the misery.
"Running eight hundred meters is illegal. I googled it. It counts as public suffering."
Soojin sighs.
"Last year, we didn't even make it to the finals. Our runner got disqualified 'cause he ran in an EXO hoodie instead of the official jersey."
Minseok groans, covering his face.
"I remember. It made the campus subreddit. With memes."
Jiho raises an eyebrow as a breeze brushes through the window, making his hair flutter. He stares at nothing, fully aware now that somehow, he's stuck in the comedy arc of life.
U.G University's main gate at the front sits halfway down—the kind that lifts up and down for cars—rests low across the entrance of a sleepy, slightly overgrown university campus.
Si Kyo, hoodie up, sunglasses on, struts toward the gate like he's in a spy film… only, he's got the biggest, reddest, most swollen lump on his forehead. A direct souvenir from one rogue boomerang. It's angry. It's pulsing. It looks like it's developing its own personality.
Si Kyo pauses just outside the entrance, eyes narrowing. Perched by the gate in a flimsy security booth, a security guard is completely slumped over, mouth wide open, snoring like a tractor with asthma. Like an old vacuum cleaner choking on a sock. The walkie-talkie crackles quietly beside him, ignored. A plastic coffee cup sits sadly by his hand.
Si Kyo grins.
"A sleeping gatekeeper? This really is an RPG."
He rolls his shoulders, crouches slightly, and begins his stealth mission across the pavement. Every footstep is exaggeratedly slow—like a cat burglar who trained under Cirque du Soleil. He tiptoes. He's sweating. One step… then another… closer to the sleeping man.
Suddenly—
"Freeze—!" the guard mutters, jerking slightly.
"Holy crap—!" Si Kyo freezes, mid-step, one eye twitching.
But nothing happens.
"Don't chase me, flaming ostrich… it breathes fire… not again…!!!!" the guard mumbles, still trapped in whatever dream war he's fighting.
Si Kyo blinks.
"Oh. He's having a nightmare…?"
He squints.
"Mockery or mercy?"
Beat.
Si Kyo slowly backs up… with a black permanent marker in hand.
With quiet precision:
— A new mustache elegantly drawn across the guard's lip.
— A pointy beard that'd make any villain proud.
— Two massive cartoon eyebrows.
— And on top of his closed eyelids. Extra eyes.
"Good," Si Kyo says, satisfied. "Now it looks like he's wide awake and judging his life choices."
He clicks the cap shut. Takes a proud step back. He nods at his masterpiece like a chaotic Picasso.
Up on the rooftop, The Strange Man lowers his binoculars, eyes wide.
"No way…"
Click. Click. Click.
Photos snapped with sniper-like focus.
Down below, Si Kyo crouches, ducks under the half-lowered barrier like a professional raccoon and slips onto campus.
Up above, the man watches. Then checks the preview screen of his camera.
"These… will do for now."
He tucks the device into his coat and vanishes across the rooftops, coat fluttering dramatically behind him like he just wrapped up an indie documentary.