The sound of keyboards filled the air. Tap-tap-tap. It never stopped.
Jin Haru sat in a small cubicle, staring at the computer screen. His back hurt. His eyes were dry. His head felt heavy, like a rock pressing down on it.
Another report. Another file. Another deadline.
The clock on the wall showed 11:42 p.m. Everyone else had gone home. Only Jin remained.
He rubbed his tired eyes and sipped cold coffee. It tasted bitter. It always did. He wanted to go home, but he couldn't—not yet. The manager had asked him to finish three more reports before tomorrow morning.
His hands shook as he typed. His shoulders ached. His legs were numb. He hadn't eaten dinner. He hadn't smiled all day. Maybe not all week.
Jin was 26 years old, but he felt like he was 60.
He sighed.
"I wish I was a stone," he muttered. "Stones don't work. Stones don't feel tired. Stones don't need money."
He stared at the blinking screen.
He thought of his tiny apartment. Cold. Lonely. Just a bed, a small table, and silence.
Was this life?
Wake up. Go to work. Work until night. Go home. Sleep. Repeat.
No dreams. No joy. Only deadlines.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
"I hate this," he whispered.
His chest felt heavy. His soul felt empty.
Some people prayed to become rich. Some wished for love. But Jin, in that dark office with buzzing lights and no one beside him, wished for something strange.
"I want to be a stone. Just... stop thinking. Stop feeling."
A strange wish.
The street was quiet. Only a few cars passed by. The sky was dark, filled with clouds. Streetlights flickered. The wind felt cold against Jin Haru's face as he walked home.
He dragged his feet. His bag felt heavy, even though it only held papers. His body was tired, but his mind was worse—blank, like a wall with no color.
He reached his apartment. A small building with cracked paint and rusted doors. He lived on the third floor.
Climb, step by step.
His key clicked in the lock. The door opened slowly.
Darkness.
He didn't bother turning on the light right away. He stood there, in the doorway, looking into the room.
Nothing had changed.
The small table still had empty cups. The bed was messy. The floor had a few socks and papers. His garbage bin was full. There were five cups of instant noodles stacked on the table—cold and empty.
He walked in and finally turned on the light.
The room was quiet. Too quiet.
Jin looked at the wall. There were letters on the floor. Bills. Unread. He picked one up.
"Electricity bill," he muttered. "Again…"
He dropped it and sat on the floor. Not the chair. Just the floor.
No one was waiting for him. No voice said "Welcome home." No warmth. Only silence.
He reached for the shelf and took another cup of instant noodles. He poured hot water in and waited.
He stared at the cup as steam rose.
"Same dinner. Same day," he whispered. "Every day."
He didn't even eat the noodles after three minutes. He just let them sit.
His head leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes.
Jin didn't cry. He didn't sigh.
He just sat there.
Tired.
Empty.
The noodles were cold now.
Jin didn't eat them. He pushed the cup away and stood up slowly. His body felt like it was made of lead—heavy and stiff.
He walked to the window and opened the curtain.
Outside, the city lights sparkled. Cars moved like tiny bugs on black roads. People walked with their phones in hand, hurrying through the night. Far away, tall buildings stood like giants.
But up above, the sky was dark.
No stars.
No moon.
Just clouds.
Jin rested his hand on the glass. It felt cool.
He looked at the world below and then at his own reflection in the window.
Tired eyes.
Messy hair.
A face with no smile.
His lips moved, and a quiet voice came out.
"I wish I were a stone," he said.
He paused.
"A stone doesn't work."
"A stone doesn't feel pain."
"A stone doesn't need money or starve."
"A stone doesn't get yelled at by managers."
He closed his eyes.
"No one needs anything from a stone."
He leaned his forehead against the glass. Cold. Quiet. Still.
"I want to sleep forever. No more work. No more noise. No more life."
The wind blew outside. Leaves danced on the street below.
Jin stood there in silence.
He didn't want money.
He didn't want fame.
He just wanted peace.
To be a stone.
Unmoving.
Unbothered.
Free.
The next day was just like the others.
Jin Haru woke up late. His head hurt. His eyes were dry. He didn't eat breakfast. There was no time.
He wore the same wrinkled shirt and black pants. He left the apartment without a word.
Outside, the city was loud again. Cars honked. People rushed past. Everyone was busy.
Jin walked slowly, his bag on his back. The sky was gray. Clouds hung low, heavy with rain.
He looked up and sighed.
"Back to work," he muttered.
He waited at the crosswalk. A red light. Cars passed in front of him. He looked at the ground, then at the traffic light.
Green.
He stepped forward.
Then—
screech!
A loud noise. Tires burning against the road.
Jin looked to his left.
A truck.
It was too fast.
Too close.
His eyes widened.
Time slowed.
The truck's lights were bright. The driver looked scared. But it was too late.
BAM!
Pain.
A loud crash.
Jin's body flew into the air.
People screamed. Bags dropped. A phone hit the ground.
He felt nothing.
Only silence.
Cold silence.
Jin lay still on the street. His blood mixed with the rain. His eyes looked up at the gray sky.
He smiled, just a little.
"Maybe now... I can rest."
Darkness followed.