Monotonous Cycle

After donning his uniform, Aeon approached the full-length mirror to assess his appearance.

His lean physique was accentuated by a gray blazer layered over a black jacket, and his dark hair and eyes were complemented by a matching necktie, giving him an above-average appearance.

Satisfied with his looks, Aeon exited his room. "Oh, you're awake," a man's voice greeted him. "Yes, good morning, Father," Aeon replied, his tone dry. His father could only chuckle at his son's response.

"Good morning, dear. You look handsome in your uniform," Aeon's mother's voice chimed in, offering her compliment. "Thank you, Mother," Aeon acknowledged.

His mother playfully pouted and said, "If that's all you can say, come and sit down for breakfast."

"Haha, dear, you know Aeon has grown up. Perhaps it's time for you to accept that he's not always going to be a baby," his father jested, implying a touch of nostalgia and recognition of Aeon's maturity.

"But Aeon will always be my baby boy," Aeon's mother said.

Aeon joined his parents at the table and started eating, seemingly unfazed by the noise.

After Aeon finished eating, he proceeded to brush his teeth and bid farewell to his parents.

"Mother, I'm going," Aeon said after grabbing his bag and walking to the door. "Yeah, be careful, dear."

Aeon stepped out into the world, his eyes gazing upon the familiar sights of his surroundings. It was the beginning of his second year in high school, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu that permeated his being.

The excitement that once accompanied each school day had long since dissipated, replaced by a weariness born from living the same moments over and over again, for what felt like an eternity.

He walked through the halls of his school, surrounded by bustling students and the murmur of conversation. Aeon's footsteps echoed with a rhythm that matched the monotony of his existence.

As he entered his second-year classroom, he took his seat and glanced around at the faces of his classmates. They all seemed so vibrant, filled with youthful energy and anticipation for what lay ahead.

But for Aeon, their enthusiasm was a distant memory, lost in the vast expanse of his countless previous lives.

The teacher entered the room, beginning the lesson with a familiar introduction. Aeon's mind wandered, drifting away from the mundane repetition of equations and historical dates.

He had learned these lessons a million times before, and the allure of acquiring knowledge had waned in the face of infinite repetition.

As the days turned into weeks, Aeon found himself trapped again in the cycle of his high school routine. Each day blended into the next, a seamless tapestry of monotony that he could recite from memory.

The same lectures, the same assignments, the same interactions with his classmates—everything unfolded according to a script he had long grown tired of.

Aeon's boredom grew like a smothering shadow, casting a pall over his once-vibrant spirit. He longed for something new, something different that could break the cycle of his existence.

The thought of spending eternity reliving the same moments of high school filled him with a profound sense of despair.