Chapter 1: The King of Comfort
The sun was already high in the sky, burning at its peak, but for Alex the world hadn't even started yet. It was 11:00 AM.
While the rest of the world was halfway through their workday, he was just struggling to pull his blanket away from his face. His room was a mess—empty snack packets, a gaming controller on the floor, and a pile of unwashed clothes. This was his kingdom, and he was the undisputed king of laziness.
"Get up! Do you have any shame?" his mother's voice echoed from the kitchen for the tenth time that morning.
He groaned, ignoring the frustration in her voice. He didn't want to be a slave to a 9-to-5 job. He didn't want to study. He just wanted his tea, his comfort, and his peace. Responsibility felt like a heavy chain he wasn't ready to wear.
After a slow, leisurely breakfast, he headed out. No books, no plans, just a wandering soul. He spent his day with friends who were just as aimless as him, wasting hours on street corners and gaming parlors.
As the sun set and the streetlights flickered on, he finally headed home. He could see the worried faces of his parents through the window. They often whispered to each other, "What will become of him? How will he survive in this world?"
He had big dreams—fame, money, a grand life—but he had zero will to move a finger for them. He loved his comfort zone too much to realize that his life was slipping away like sand through his fingers. He was a "trouble" for everyone, a burden they carried with a sigh.Even the school wasn't enough to wake him up. Every day, he walked into the classroom like a ghost, his mind already drifting to another world. His Science teacher would shout until her throat was sore, "The exams are coming! Your future is at stake!" But to him, those words were just background noise.
He sat on the last bench, either half-asleep or staring out of the window at the clouds. Failure didn't scare him. The idea of a ruined life didn't bother him. For him, the only thing that mattered was his immediate comfort. The teachers would try to guide him, show him the path, but he was lost in a world where books had no meaning.
At home, his parents' desperation grew every day. "If you don't want to study, at least learn some work!" they would plead. His answer was always a cold, "No, I don't want to."
He lived like an animal—eating when he was hungry, sleeping whenever he felt like it, with no schedule and no purpose. Even the greatest motivational stories felt fake to him. He enjoyed hearing about successful people, but their struggles never sparked a fire in him. His teachers told him stories of heroes who changed their lives through hard work, hoping to inspire him. He would listen, nod, and then walk back right into his shell of laziness.
He was stuck in a loop of comfort, a slow poison that was killing his potential, and he didn't care at all.Years passed like a blur of wasted hours. The wake-up call finally came, but it was a bitter one. Alex watched from the sidelines as his friends celebrated their move to the 12th grade, while he remained stuck, rotting in the 10th. For a brief moment, the sting of failure pierced his heart. "I messed up," he whispered to himself.
A sudden spark of madness took over him. He grabbed his dusty books, sat at his desk, and decided to change. He prepared for his exams for exactly two days. But as quickly as the fire had started, it died out. The comfort of his bed called out to him again. "It's okay, I'll do it tomorrow," he muttered, slipping back into his old ways.
His mother stood at the door, watching him with tearful, silent eyes. She didn't scream anymore; she was beyond that. She walked up to him and said in a broken voice, "Alex, if you don't change, who will take care of us when we are gone? Who will look after this house?"
She left the room without waiting for an answer. Alex felt a momentary pang of guilt, but the world of sleep was more welcoming than the world of responsibility. He closed his eyes and drifted back into his dreams, leaving his mother's question hanging in the cold air. He was a prisoner of his own comfort, and he didn't even want the key to escape.