The world around Lucas began to twist.
His field of vision lowered, as though he had shrunk. His hands looked smaller. His body felt lighter.
It took him a moment to realize—
He was back in the body of his younger self.
---
The sun was warm, a gentle spring breeze carrying the smell of fresh grass. Birdsong trilled softly overhead. In front of him stood a wide iron gate painted in fading white. Above it, carved into a wooden sign, were five crisp characters:
"Sunshine Orphanage."
The paint was fresh, not yet chipped by years of weathering. The wood held no cracks, no signs of age.
Lucas stared up at it in silence, his lips parting slightly.
"They… restored it perfectly… exactly how it was in my memory."
---
The scene shifted seamlessly, pulling him forward into the orphanage yard.
Children ran about, their laughter ringing through the air. Some chased each other across the grass, others clung to swings and slides, shrieking with delight. The place was alive with joy.
An elderly woman stood before him—the dean of the orphanage. Her hair was silver and pulled back neatly. Wrinkles lined her face, but her eyes glimmered with warmth. She bent down to meet his gaze, her voice soft and coaxing.
"Child, this will be your home from now on."
For most children without parents, those words would have been salvation. A lifeline in a storm.
But the moment they left her lips, Lucas' shoulders stiffened. His stomach turned cold. His eyes narrowed, the way prey narrows its gaze at the scent of a predator.
"This… is really terrible," he murmured, shivering despite the sun. The sweetness in her tone carried something else—something that unsettled him to his core.
---
In the Live Broadcast Arena
On the massive viewing screens, the crowd had gone dead silent. Not a murmur, not a whisper.
Even the flamboyant clown host stood frozen, one painted eyebrow arched in disbelief. It took him several seconds to find his voice again.
"Could it be… that this is the scariest scene in contestant Lucas' memory?!"
The last words cracked, betraying his shock.
Murmurs broke out instantly among the players and audience.
"Is there something wrong with my understanding of the word 'terrible'?" someone muttered.
"Did the system glitch? Is this a copy bug?"
"If it was a bug, the host would have said something by now…"
But before anyone could settle on an explanation, the scene on the main screen began to distort.
---
Back in the Memory
Lucas' perspective shifted, rising slightly higher.
He now stood in a cozy, warmly lit living room. Floral curtains filtered the sunlight, casting soft patterns on the floor. He turned his head—there was the orphanage dean again, looking a little older now.
Ahead of him sat a beige sofa. On it rested a middle-aged couple, their faces lit with kindness. Their eyes were warm, almost painfully so, as they studied him.
The dean's voice floated into the air.
"I'll leave him in your care from now on… Go on, child, call them your parents."
The woman's eyes shimmered as she hurried toward him. She crouched to his height, her smile trembling at the edges.
"I've given you a name… Lucas… Do you like it?"
Her hand reached toward him, fingers spread, inviting him into an embrace.
Lucas instinctively took two steps back.
The moment hung frozen. The woman's arms remained outstretched, her expression overflowing with joy. Behind her, the man and the dean smiled approvingly, a picture of domestic happiness.
---
In the broadcast arena, the clown host's jaw had dropped. He didn't even try to speak. The audience filled the silence for him.
"Wait… are these his adoptive parents?"
"They look exactly like the ones from that old forum interview—just younger!"
"Why would being adopted be terrifying? This should be a happy thing!"
"Man, I don't get it… at all."
But the scene was far from over.
---
The Third Shift
The warm colors drained away, replaced by sterile white. The air grew heavy, still, and almost too clean. Lucas blinked, disoriented.
He knew this place.
"It's been… so long." His voice was almost a whisper.
The room was his old psychiatric ward. Everything was in its place: the neatly made bed with restraint straps dangling from either side, the padded corners on the furniture to prevent injury, the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
A black camera lens watched from the upper corner, silent and unblinking.
---
A sharp knock knock knock sounded at the door. Before Lucas could turn fully, the handle clicked. The door swung open with a low creak.
A woman in a crisp white coat stepped in cautiously. Her hair was tied back, and a smile rested carefully on her lips—gentle, but guarded.
"I argued with Dr. Elliot to prove that there's nothing wrong with your mental state," she said softly. "Once the discharge paperwork is done, you can leave."
Lucas tilted his head, studying her with an unreadable expression. She paused, as though waiting for a reaction.
After a moment, she tried again.
"You… don't want to be discharged?"
Her eyes softened further, brimming with hesitant affection.
"I thought you didn't like living here."
She bit her lower lip, cheeks flushing faintly. Then she took a deep breath, as if preparing to say something important.
---
But before she could, the room faded away.
---
Lucas was back in the confessional—just a wooden table, a chair, and four bare walls.
He exhaled slowly, as though releasing a weight he'd been carrying for years.
"What a horrible memory…"
---
In the Arena
Gasps erupted.
"Scary?? That's it?? What's so scary about that?!"
"Maybe… maybe his mind works differently from ours?"
"I just looked it up—this newcomer Lucas does have a history of mental illness!"
"Yeah, but still… this kind of 'fear' is nothing like normal people's!"
The chat stream was a flood of confusion, speculation, and heated debate. The system's reward notifications chimed rapidly, snapping the clown host from his stunned silence.
"Wow… contestant Lucas… you've really exceeded my expectations."
For a moment, even he was lost for words. How could he comment on something so baffling?
---
The system voice interrupted:
[Player Lucas' half-hour main screen broadcast has ended. Please continue to work hard.]
[Player Lucas' popularity has risen sharply—currently ranked first among all finalists.]
The main screen shifted to another top player's perspective, but few in the arena paid attention. All conversation, all curiosity, was still fixed on Lucas.
On the side screens, his small live feed was swarmed. For the first time in the competition's history, the number of players watching a small-screen feed nearly matched those watching the main broadcast.
---
And in the midst of it all, Lucas sat alone in the confessional, waiting for the next twist of fate.
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