The beginning

He stared into the distance, eyes unfocused, listening to the faint hum of the fluorescent light above. The steady buzz was oddly soothing, a constant in the otherwise chaotic room. He didn't even realize a middle-aged woman was shouting at him, her voice growing more insistent with each passing second.Her grip on his collar jolted him back to reality, the room snapping into focus around him. Despite the abruptness, his face remained oddly emotionless. He looked at her with a calm, detached expression, and in a soft-spoken voice said, "Ma'am, the manager is not available right now, so please come back later."In his head, he didn't see her as a person but just another obstacle disrupting the monotonous flow of his daily cycle. Her presence was merely an inconvenience, a temporary hurdle to navigate before he could return to his usual, uneventful routine.He was the kind of guy who was never bad at anything but never excelled either. He always did the bare minimum, just enough to get by without attracting attention or criticism. He avoided stepping out of his comfort zone, content with the predictability of his routine. The buzzing light, the impatient woman, and the unremarkable surroundings were all just parts of the background to his carefully maintained mediocrity.As she stormed off, he watched her leave with detached indifference. A little while later, he realized it was time to clock off. Making his way through the gloomy streets in the middle of the night, he was lost in his own imagination. The one thing that made this otherwise husk of a man human was his interest in survival skills. Thoughts of building shelters, starting fires, and foraging for food sparked a rare flicker of joy in his otherwise mundane life."A life full of events is far from what I have," he muttered to himself, kicking a pebble along the sidewalk. "I wish I could get reincarnated or something of that sort." The fantasy of a new life, filled with excitement and challenges, was a constant daydream that tugged at the corners of his mind, a stark contrast to his monotonous reality.As he walked through the dark, empty streets, he kept his hands in his pockets, head slightly bowed. The buzz of the streetlights above seemed to follow him, a faint echo of the one at work.

"Another day, another pointless encounter," he murmured to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Why do people always expect so much? It's not like it changes anything. Just another day gone."

He kicked another pebble, watching it skitter across the pavement. "I wonder what it's like to actually be good at something. To have a purpose, maybe. But then again, what's the point? Just brings more expectations, more hassle."

He sighed, his breath visible in the cool night air. "Maybe if I got reincarnated, I could be someone else. Someone important, or at least...different. Start over, find something worth caring about. Survival in the wild, that would be something. No people, no demands. Just me and the elements."

He stopped for a moment, looking up at the starless sky. "It's probably just a dream, though. Nothing changes. Tomorrow will be the same as today." He resumed his walk, his thoughts fading into the background hum of the city night.

He continued his walk, thoughts drifting until he reached his small, rundown house. The routine never changed. He woke up each morning to the sound of his "mom" yelling from the kitchen, a woman he barely considered family. He went through the motions at college, blending into the background, before heading back to his dead-end job. The same hum of the fluorescent lights, the same impatient customers.

He finally reached his home, and the excitement about his interests faded away, leaving him an emotionless shell. Without saying a word, he walked in and sat down at the small, cluttered table. His "mom" had already made him food. She glanced up from her phone and asked, "How was your day?"

"Same as always," he replied curtly, picking at his meal. She didn't press further, and he welcomed the silence, letting it envelop him as he ate mechanically.After dinner, he returned to his room, tired from a day of nothingness. The small space was cluttered with dirty clothes strewn across the floor, old takeout containers piling up in one corner, and a thick layer of dust covering the few pieces of worn-out furniture. He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling.

"What's the point?" he whispered to the empty room. "Every day is the same. Nothing changes. What's the worth of living like this?"

The silence that followed his words was deafening. He sighed deeply, turning onto his side, trying to escape the relentless monotony in the only way he knew how—through sleep.