Arthur woke up with his mouth dry and his soul heavier.

  The sun filtered through his blinds in narrow white lines—sharp against the dim room. Outside, birds chirped. Cheerfully. Mockingly. His room was warm, the air thick and stale.

  His brain felt thick too. That soft, foggy kind of tired where you’re not sure if you actually slept or just… shut down.

  The clock on his desk said 10:12 a.m.

  Summer break. He had nowhere to be. No one waiting. No reason to get up.

  Still, his body pulled itself upright, slow and cranky. His t-shirt clung a little, his breath tasted like something dead, and his skin felt like it belonged to someone else.

  He frowned and scratched his chest.

  He hadn’t showered last night. He was supposed to. Told himself he would, right after one more chapter. Then he fapped, then read again. Then sleep.

  He rubbed at his face and stood. Bathroom. Shower. Maybe food.

  But then his hand moved on its own. Reached down. Picked up the phone.

  Just to check.

  He squinted at the screen. Notifications. A few pings from Discord. Some YouTube thumbnails he wasn’t in the mood to tap. No messages that mattered.

  No “hey.”

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  No “you there?”

  No one.

  Out of habit, he crawled back under the blanket, phone in hand.

  Just for a minute.

  The web novel app opened by muscle memory.

  No “next” button.

  Right.

  He’d caught up last night. That was why he stopped reading. Not because of the time. Not because of any willpower. Just because the chapters had run out.

  He stared at the title screen a moment longer than necessary.

  The silence of the moment gnawed at him. He opened the app’s front page. He started the hunt again. New novel. New escape.

  “Top Trending.”

  “New Releases.”

  “Hidden Gems You Missed.”

  Scroll. Scroll. Scroll.

  He knew the routine by heart: find a title that doesn’t scream “AI-written,” skip the synopsis, read the comments for “gets better after ch70,” then dive.

  Ten minutes later, he’d clicked on a new one.

  Some sad guy in a magic world had wasted his life chasing pleasure and mediocrity, died full of regrets, and woke up in his teenage body again. Magic school. Mana talent. Re-do life arc.

  Arthur tapped “Start Reading” without thinking. It was basically wish-fulfilment bait, and he knew it—but that was the point.

  As it loaded, Arthur pulled the blanket over himself again, even though he was sweating. It just felt better, safer, like being wrapped in denial.

  He read. One chapter, then another. The MC sat in his old smelly room, staring at the letter for the mage academy, hand trembling because this time he wouldn’t throw it away.

  Arthur wasn’t even sure if the story was good. It was just... familiar. He could taste where it was going and didn’t care.

  The MC’s parents still believed in him. His crush hadn’t given up yet. His body was still young and full of potential.

  It wasn’t a fantasy about magic.

  It was a fantasy about second chances.

  The loser MC had plans. Revenge. Growth. Purpose.

  Arthur felt that hollow place in his chest stir. Not in hope. Just in hunger. The same quiet ache he always got when reading this kind of story.

  At some point, his stomach grumbled. He didn’t get up.

  His hair stuck to the side of his forehead from the sweat. His mouth was dry. Still didn’t get up.

  Maybe after this next arc. Or when the MC makes his first real friend. Or when the school duel starts.

  Later.

  Always later.

  After all, there was a life to live in this story.

  And maybe, if he read hard enough, part of him could pretend it was him.