Souta stood in front of the mirror, his grip tightening on the sink’s edge.

  The dim bathroom light flickered, casting sharp shadows over his face.

  His reflection stared back at him—judging, mocking. Every imperfection seemed louder than before. His nose, his skin, his jawline that didn’t look the way it used to. His hair, messy no matter how much he fixed it. His body, neither lean nor muscular—just… there.

  He adjusted his glasses. Tilted his head. Pulled at his hoodie.

  Nothing helped.

  Nothing ever did.

  ---

  The Silent War Inside

  Souta had lived with this feeling for as long as he could remember.

  It wasn’t vanity. It wasn’t about wanting to be the best-looking guy in the room.

  It was deeper.

  It was the fear of being overlooked.

  He had seen it—how people gravitated towards the attractive. How they were treated like they mattered more, even when they didn’t say a word. Meanwhile, those like him… they had to try.

  Try harder to be noticed.

  Try harder to be respected.

  Try harder to not fade into the background.

  Maybe if he looked better, people would care more.

  Maybe then, life would be easier.

  ---

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The Voice That Never Lies

  "You’re doing it again."

  Souta exhaled sharply. "And? Is it wrong to want to improve myself?"

  "No. But that’s not what you’re doing. You’re searching for something that doesn’t exist."

  He clenched his jaw. "I just want to look good."

  "For who?"

  The words cut through the air like a blade.

  Souta faltered. "What do you mean? For myself, obviously."

  "Liar."

  He tensed.

  "If it was for yourself, you wouldn’t care this much about how others see you. So tell me, Souta—who are you really trying to impress?"

  Souta’s lips parted, but no words came out.

  ---

  The Uncomfortable Truth

  "Is it for girls?" The voice didn’t hesitate. "You think if you looked better, they’d notice you? That they’d like you more?"

  Souta gritted his teeth. "That’s not—"

  "Then why does their attention feel like the only proof that you matter?"

  A lump formed in his throat.

  "Is that what you want? A life where your worth is measured by how much someone else desires you?"

  The question hung in the air, suffocating.

  "You hate what you see because the world taught you to hate it." The voice was calm, unwavering. "You were told that if you don’t fit a certain standard, you’re less. And you believed it."

  Souta’s fingers curled into fists. "So what? Are you saying I should stop caring? Just let myself go?"

  "No. Care about yourself. But stop worshipping an illusion."

  He pressed his lips together.

  "You don’t need to be perfect to be seen. You need to exist in a way that demands to be seen."

  ---

  A Fire Inside

  Souta looked at his reflection again.

  Nothing had changed.

  And yet, everything had.

  For the first time, he wasn’t just seeing flaws—he was seeing chains. Chains he had willingly placed on himself, all because he thought they would make him more valuable.

  But what if… they never did?

  What if they only made him forget who he was?

  His shoulders loosened.

  He let out a slow breath.

  ---

  The Riddle That Burns

  "A lion does not ask the mirror if he is feared.

  A storm does not wait for the ocean’s approval to rage.

  So tell me, Souta…

  Why do you seek permission to be great?"

  Goosebumps crawled over his skin.

  And for the first time, when he looked at himself in the mirror—

  He didn’t see something broken.

  He saw something waiting to rise.