'The hardest thing to do is to keep living.' he thought as he awoke to the gentle caress of dawn's first light spilling into his room. The room, shrouded in half-light, slowly revealed itself to him, and as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the boy's weary countenance came into focus.

The boy had a black-haired head. The boy's countenance fell somewhere between unremarkable and unattractive, evoking a sense of plainness as if it had been crafted to embody the epitome of mediocrity.

The young man rose to his feet and approached the mirror. He possessed a rather unremarkable height, neither towering nor diminutive. His complexion, a middle-of-the-road shade, did not lean toward extreme pallor or deep bronzing. Average, one might say. His eyes, too, exhibited no extraordinary qualities; they were perfectly middling. His nose, mouth, and ears followed suit, offering nothing that set them apart. This, in conjunction with his facial features, yielded a result that he found immensely uninspiring—bland, unremarkable, and a word he absolutely hated to his bone: average.

Standing in front of the mirror, a mocking smile skipped from the boy's mouth.

"I hate you." The boy said, glaring at his own reflection. A chuckle escaped him once more. After a dismissive shake of his head, He proceeded to get ready.

"Alexander, are you’re awake yet. Your bus will be here soon." sounded a middle aged women’s voice from the outside of his room.

'Alexander, a common name,' he mused.

"What am I thinking?"

'Is it not true, though? An average face, average hair, an average height, an uneventful life—just an average existence. Isn't that who you are, much like countless others, an average Joe?'

"No, I'm not. I'm not an average joe," he murmured again.

'I suppose you truly aren't average, then. After all, to be considered average, you'd need to have a girlfriend. But you don't even have that. So I guess you're below average—a complete nobody.'

"Yes, that is true. I am a fucking nobody, a loser, an absolute no one a being without purpose, just an existence with no claim to existence," the young man whispered, the words escaping his lips after a prolonged struggle within, as though he grappled with his own inner demons.

'Then why exist? You may live on the ground floor, but it is a 299-story building, and no one is barring you from the ceiling. So, the question remains, why live this miserable life? Where your work, your word, your action as a whole, your life is meaningless. It is as if you are invisible. Your existence is nothing but a joke. Your life without meaning. Just end it.'

The boy's head shook slowly, his voice carrying a tinge of self-deprecation, "You know, I'm a loser. I can't even muster the courage. I should probably stop talking to myself. It’s time to get ready to drag my miserable existence to this hell once more, like any other day."

"Are you dead? The bus will be here any minute now." the shouting middle-aged voice again came from outside.

"I am coming Mom." Alexander shouted back as he stated pulling his pants.

In the dining room,

A middle-aged man with a stern countenance and a teenager sat across from each other, their silent exchange underscored by the clinking of cutlery on porcelain plates. The room was steeped in an air of formality, punctuated only by the middle-aged woman who diligently served their meal.

Breaking the silence, the middle-aged man turned his gaze towards the teenager, "What about your midterm results, Aven?" he inquired, his voice commanding.

Startled, the teenager lowered the transparent, glass-like device he had been holding. For a moment, his eyes betrayed a flicker of anxiety. Gathering his composure, he replied in a somewhat shaky and incoherent tone, "No, the results haven't been published yet."

The middle-aged man's sternness remained undiminished as he leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed upon the young man. "I hope you are telling the truth," he remarked, his words hanging in the air, carrying a subtle but unmistakable undercurrent of expectation and consequence.

The middle-aged man leaned back in his chair and spoke to the empty room. "Chaphone, see if Alxon School's class 8th result has been published."

"The result of ..."

"Chaphone, shutdown," A robotic Sound voice started but was interrupted as a sweet, caring, and melodious voice filled the room, cutting through the tension. "And you, have some faith in your son. Stop being so annoyed all the time."

The middle-aged man's voice, stern and unwavering, carried a weight of responsibility. "I am just trying to ensure that this one doesn't squander their life like the other."

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In contrast, the woman's voice, sweet in tone, concealed a bitter undercurrent. "He's simply been unlucky. It's not actually his fault."

"Why is his luck always this bad?" The man inquired in a mocking tone.

The woman stuttered immensely but couldn't respond. By the side, the teenager stood there, dropping his face down. Fear was evident on his face. As everyone sat there, the awkward silence persisted in the conversation.

"That's because it's not about luck. He's just lazy and a coward. He lacks drive for anything. Even now, he hasn't shown up for breakfast. I deliberately refrained from calling him this morning, and I even turned off his alarm. Not that it makes a difference. No alarm has ever affected him. I just don't get what I did wrong for God to give me a son like this," the middle-aged man ended, almost shouting.

"He.... he tries." A quivering teenage voice came from the side.

“You…”

As the middle-aged man prepared to bellow at the teenager, a youthful, average voice emanated from the corner stairs, accompanied by a young, average-looking boy donning clothing as he descended. The apartment, occupying the first floor, featured a clever design. Half of it had a lofty ceiling supported by sturdy pillars, creating a single-story feel. The other half retained a standard height, cleverly blending two floors into one.

"Alexander, not this again," the woman admonished with a deep frown etched on her face.

"Alexander, Alexander, come on, boy, Alexander..." The woman continued to call out, her voice filled with urgency.

"I told you, Mom, I don't have time," alexander responded as he exited the room.

"Look at what you've done! Because of you, my son missed his meal. I mean, who initiates this at breakfast? It's all because of your temper," the middle-aged woman exclaimed angrily.

The middle-aged man grumbled for a while, then fell silent.

As the young man exited the room, he strode down the expansive hallway leading to the exterior door. On either side, numerous maids diligently toiled, but upon closer inspection, their appearance revealed an unmistakable truth—they were not quite human but androids.

Near the exit, behind the reception stood a strikingly attractive android, a more advanced model capable of engaging in conversation. It was fairly an expensive android. So this android never fails to attract the eyes of Alexander.

Alexander knew the building's proprietor, and for someone of his standing, it wasn't a significant matter. He'd heard rumors that every 50 floors of the massive 299-story building offered a distinct aesthetic. However, Alexander had never ventured there. Firstly, his schedule was always tight, and secondly, his courage didn't quite match the task at hand.

That is because he is an introvert, a fact that he hated himself for, but each time he tried to do something about it, there was no result to speak off. One time he tried to talk to a girl and was met with a look of complete disgust. This never actually washed off his mind.

Following that incident, he made a personal vow never to engage in conversations with girls. . A vow he found quite easy to fulfill. A fact that further proved he was a sore loser.

he got outside on the sidewalk, the building was beside one of the main roads, and this was also the reason why his father bought the ground apartment of this building with all his savings, as opposed to buying a higher floor apartment somewhere else.

The road was packed with vehicles, most of them private cars. It was a massive traffic jam. But this daily occurrence was hardly noticeable.

Above the bustling cityscape, a labyrinth of flying cars crisscrossed the sky in their designated tiers. The power of their engines dictated the hierarchical structure, with each car model having its exclusive stratum. The lowest tier accommodated the humblest flying car engines, but even their cost was exorbitant for those like Alexander or the middle class.

In the hierarchy of engines, those in the high-class category have the capability to descend to lower levels, but they are required to adhere to speed restrictions imposed by the law.

Alexander gazed up at the expansive sky, where tiers of vehicles floated, and he couldn't help but shake his head. It was evident that the layer system vividly mirrored the social hierarchy. Down on the ground, the common folks endured hardship, while the privileged upper class effortlessly carried on with their lives. The lowest flying tier in the sky moved sluggishly, with limited space and a sense of confinement. As you ascended higher, the vehicles grew more opulent, the tiers became less crowded, and the occupants enjoyed greater freedom.

But as he was thinking about this, he remembered that he did not have much time, to be philosophical, before the bus arrives. Upon coming back to reality, Alexander rushed like crazy for the nearest private high school in front of which the varsity bus stops.

Alexander quickly walked onto the crowded sidewalk, he would have run, but the crowd was so densely packed that it was impossible to even think of running. But years of living in this environment have made him good at maneuvering through this crowd.

Amidst the bustling sidewalk, he strolled freely, secretly taking pride in his knack for weaving through the crowd. However, just as the thought of his exceptional mobility crossed his mind, he quickly scolded himself inwardly. "What's there to be proud of? Aren't these folks navigating the same?" He hesitated to complete that thought, fearing discomfort upon thinking of the word about to come out of his mouth.

With nimble agility, he made it to the private high school. There, a sleek, four-story bus with blue hues floated a few feet above the ground. Its four thrusters continuously spewed hot air.

Upon finding no empty seat in the first 2 story’s he opted to seat at the front of the 3rd one.

"Hey, so you came today! I thought you would bunk it." At this point, he heard a familiar voice. Turning back he saw a boy with a huge body, not fat, was well-built, though not ripped, it had the shape of a bodybuilder.

The boy then moved away and gestured at Alexander to a seat next to the window, as he knew, Alexander liked to sit beside windows on a bus.

"Thanks, man." Alexander said after seating.

"Hey Michel, did you complete your cultivation to Xeo 1?" alexander asked.

"No. but let's not talk about it."

"Sure thing," Alexander responded with a nod and a grateful look. He knew Michel was one of the above average students in their class and really wanted to discuss it, but he refrained because he understood how much talking about cultivation pained Alexander.

As Michel sat down, the bus trembled, and as it was the 3rd floor, the engine sound did not travel up there.

"Oh! Don't worry, the bus did not tremble because of your weight." Alexander joked.

"Don't worry, if the bus turns over for my weight, you would be the first one that would be crushed to death by my weight." Michel chuckled.

The bus smoothly glided along the sky, joining the ranks of the flying cars in the first layer. As the journey commenced, Alexander and Michael engaged in light conversation for a few minutes. But, after some times like most of the people on the bus, Alexander decided to put on his headphones, letting the music wash over him while he gazed out at the towering buildings passing by.

The buildings were impressive, with most of them boasting a distinctive octagonal design. Advertisements for a wide array of products were plastered across these towering structures. Many of these buildings had the capability to display video advertisements on their glass walls.

The advertisements themselves seemed to be tiered, almost like a hierarchy. For instance, luxury cars wouldn't be showcased below the hundredth floor, and you wouldn't find ads for budget noodles above the hundredth floor. Amidst this spectacle, Alexander noticed a pristine white building with two revolving rings around it. In front of it, a projection of a lady in a lab coat proudly announced that this hospital was the first in the city to tackle cultivation deviation.

Alexander couldn't help but chuckle to himself, thinking, "As if it's that simple. There's probably some poor folks being used for experiments." Lost in his thoughts, he continued to observe the advertisements and the extravagance of the era.

However, his musings were interrupted when he noticed something that left him in awe. He shifted his gaze within the bus, completely captivated.

Michel, sensing Alexander's amazement, asked, "Isn't she from your building?"

Alexander, still somewhat dazed, replied, "Yes, that's her."

Michel prodded with a mischievous grin, "So, are you going to ask her out today?"

At this, all the color from alexanders face was drained.