To start with the conclusion,

That morning, I witnessed both the 'limits of humanity' and the 'realm of art' simultaneously. And I realized.

That the peaceful morning on campus is filled with spoils obtained after someone's desperate struggle.

Now, let me tell you the magnificent and tragic 'bathroom epic' that I experienced.

Just as the bell announcing the morning reading class rang for the third time, 'martial law' had already been declared in my lower body.

Campus romance? The professor's benevolent smile? That was a luxury.

Only the sanctuary known as the ‘restroom at the western end of the lecture hall’ came to mind as the sole light of salvation.

As I sprinted across the hallway, what brushed past my nose was a strong scent of bleach strangely mixed with the smell of chive dumplings from classmates who had just finished their breakfast.

Isn't this the true morning scent of K-University?

It is far from refreshing, but it is that familiar body odor that somehow makes me feel, 'Ah, everyone is living fiercely again today.'

When I kicked open the restroom door and stepped inside, the place was enveloped in a strange silence.

'Click, click,' the sound of my shoes echoed against the tiles, but that stillness felt more like the calm before the storm, and cold sweat ran down my spine. It flowed.

"Please, let at least one stall be empty!"

I opened the door to the first stall closest to me.

But then, good heavens. On the toilet seat, something brownish-red was greeting me, shaped like a finely crushed 'Chocolate Oreo'.

The unidentified fiber fragments sticking out from the edges reminded me of Banksy's installation art.

I thought to myself.

'This is for beginners. I feel like I can hear the scream of a classmate who hurriedly left a trace behind last night while drunk.

Difficulty: Easy.

I quietly covered my nose and closed the door. It was still too early to give up my dignity. When I opened the door to the second stall, I could hardly believe my eyes. There, not merely a simple 'excretion,' but a massive project had been completed. It filled the toilet bowl so completely that it towered like the summit of Mount Everest; its surface had hardened roughly, exuding a majesty akin to a Jurassic dinosaur fossil. This was not an amount that one person could produce in a short time. It was a 'masterpiece' that could only be born by pouring in a week of agony, patience, and every peristaltic movement of the intestines. In that instant, I paid tribute to that nameless 'master' [I expressed.]

'How great a sense of liberation and accomplishment must you have felt after completing this sacred task? By now, you must be sitting in the very front row of the classroom, listening to the lecture with a clearer mind than anyone else.'

But apart from that awe, my sphincter screamed once again.

This was a sanctuary I dared not approach.

Offering a silent prayer of sincere apology in advance to the cleaning lady who would be opening this 'gift box' today, I moved toward the third compartment, my last hope.

The door to the last compartment was firmly closed.

A faint rustling sound of clothes came from inside. It was clear that someone had already taken the seat.

I despaired. Because my chapter had already reached its limit between the 'hell' and 'art' of the previous two stalls.

"Excuse me... are you coming out soon?"

I asked cautiously, but the answer coming back from inside froze me.

"Ah... student? Sorry, but could you get me some toilet paper?

It looks like the friend in the second stall earlier used up all the toilet paper..."

That voice was none other than my major professor, who holds my grades this semester.

Ah, I realized. That magnificent fossil in the second stall was not the professor's work.

The professor was actually a victim isolated without a single roll of toilet paper, overwhelmed by that 'traces of a master'!

In the end, I ran outside, procured a roll of toilet paper from the department office, and offered (?) it to the professor.

Thanks to that, my urgent situation took a backseat, and I formed a strange bond with the professor through the door.

Since that day, whenever I go to the restroom, I think:

No matter how horrific the scene unfolding before my eyes may be, behind it might be someone's desperate struggle and a soul in need of help.

Everyone, if you happen to find an 'Oreo' or a 'fossil' in the campus restroom, do not panic.

It is It is a trace left by someone’s passionate morning, and for you, it might be an opportunity to 'earn credits with a roll of toilet paper.'