Chapter 4 - Incomplete Piece
With that, the first class passed peacefully. Since it was the end of the school year, there wasn't much left to go through, aside from some revision for the college exams—for those planning to attend university instead of becoming Dimensional Knights.
In this case, the majority of the class—and the entire school—were leaning toward the latter. If even a dozen candidates were accepted by the 'Injection' across the entire city, it would be a monumental success like never before. A more realistic number would be three or four people at most.
Across the entire world, one could expect maybe thirty to forty successful candidates, and even that was considered generous.
Eventually, the class ended, and the students were dismissed for the day to have time to prepare for the Injections. Not only physically, but mentally too—they had to carry the weight of reality with them for the rest of their lives, whether they were accepted or rejected. They needed that time to think, to come to terms with what was coming.
"Make sure to be here around 4 PM to receive your tickets. I don't want anyone absent or you are officially out of the list of students who would undergo the Injection. Understood?"
"Yes, sir..." The class replied in unison.
"Good, you're dismissed."
Zane walked out of class and made his way through the corridor toward a particular spot. He kept glancing over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one was following him or paying attention. The last thing he wanted was for someone to discover his hideout.
Exiting the school building, he looped around to the back—an area few people ever visited. There, tucked into a quiet corner, sat a small bench overlooking the city below. Thanks to the school's location on a hill, the view was far-reaching and serene, a mix Zane enjoyed quite a bit.
"Sigh…" Sitting down, he let out a long breath, eyes lifting to take in the scenery. It was quiet, peaceful—one of the few places in the world that gave him any sense of calm. If there was one place he didn't hate in this godforsaken world, it was definitely that seat.
'I'll miss this spot…' he muttered, eyes glazed in a distant daze. No matter how hard he tried to pretend everything was going according to plan, deep down, Zane was extremely nervous—maybe even afraid—of what would happen tomorrow.
If he were accepted by the Injection, everything would change. That would be perfect. But if he wasn't—which was far more likely—then what was he supposed to do? How could he accept that all of his desires, his entire life's purpose, would come to an end before it even began?
Staring into the distance, Zane felt the crushing weight of that possibility, and even though nothing had happened yet, a bitter taste filled his mouth.
"I really can't accept that, can I?" he murmured. "If it were all about hard work, I'd have had a chance. But this shitty world doesn't care about hard work. It's either you have it… or you don't."
He had seen it firsthand. Whether it was physical activities or academics, there were always people better than him—people who didn't work half as hard, yet soared effortlessly. They rode on the wings of natural talent, something they didn't even earn. Meanwhile, Zane worked himself to the brink of collapse, bleeding and tearing muscle, and all he had to show for it was minor improvement and slightly better grades.
He sat there in silence, thoughts spiraling, revisiting everything he had endured over the past five years. Every moment made his skin crawl. He hated all of it. Just thinking about those years made him want to vomit.
He was pathetic. The world was pathetic. Together, they were a disaster.
'A match made in the deepest pits of hell...' He thought, sarcastically.
"Rrr, well, it's going to come to an end soon… Whether that ending is good or bad… we'll see," he muttered, reaching into his bag to pull out his notes. He sat quietly, flipping through pages and trying to focus on revision. His expression was calm, and the occasional breeze eased his troubled thoughts.
Yet, despite trying to study, his eyes kept drifting to the city stretched before him. He didn't know why, but something tugged at him—an urge to do something else. His concentration waned with each passing second.
He hesitated, glancing between his notes and the skyline. Finally, he exhaled slowly, giving in to the impulse.
Putting the notes aside, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a different book—thin, old, and wrinkled.
"Let's see… I think I have a few more pages left," he muttered as he flipped to the last five or so. The book was filled with drawings—his drawings. Some dated back a few years, others were more recent. The evolution was clear: once childish and abstract, his art had grown into something raw and hauntingly realistic. He didn't embellish his sketches—he simply captured the world as he saw it: grey, faded, and lifeless, even on the sunniest days.
His subjects had shifted from fantasy monsters and epic battles to mundane moments of everyday life. A crumbling building. A stray cat slipping past his feet. A family walking together on the other side of the road. He didn't consider it a hobby, not really. It was just something he did when he felt like he could. Something that offered a little solace in a world that gave him none.
Taking out a pencil, Zane stared at the city for a few long seconds, as if mentally taking notes. Then, slowly, he looked down and began to draw. His hand moved with quiet precision, tracing graceful lines with surprising dexterity.
Even if he didn't draw often, Zane's talent was unmistakable—and only improved over time. A natural gift, perhaps.
Line by line, he built the scene—adding shadows, depth, subtle curves. He filled in the empty spaces with faint shadings, layering his strokes until the image came alive. After dozens of minutes, he finally lifted the notebook and examined his work.
It was a complete picture of the cityscape, drawn in black and grey. Every detail, every nuance, was etched in pencil—but somehow, it felt more alive than the actual view.
'Hm, not bad. Still got it,' he thought with a small nod of satisfaction. But that faint smile quickly faded as noise reached his ears—laughter and voices, growing louder with each second.
Zane stiffened.
'Here we go…' he sighed internally, already sliding his notebook into his bag. People sometimes wandered back here, curious, but he didn't enjoy company. Leaving quietly was always his first move. Unfortunately for him, today was another one such case.
But just as he stood to leave, the source of the voices came into view.
"And then I told her—Hm?"
They made eye contact immediately, and silence fell like a curtain.
Both sides recognized each other. Zane's expression darkened, while the group of boys looked startled—then amused.
"Oh? Isn't that…"
"It is. If it isn't the silver boy himself~" one of them smirked, his tone dripping with mockery. "And here we thought you skipped today…"
Zane let out a shallow breath. 'I'm really not in the mood for this right now… Why did they have to find this spot?' he cursed internally, scowling as he looked up.
And that was when he realized… his peaceful evening was officially over.