Tama's chest tightened as he stared at the screen. His mind was racing, screaming at him to move, to act, to do something. But his body disobeyed. He was paralyzed—by fear, by uncertainty, by the unknown presence that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere.
The message blinked again on his screen:
Continue the game. Or watch her die.
He reached for the mouse with a shaky hand. A single option had appeared underneath the message:
[CONTINUE]
No back button. No close option. No escape.
Tama clicked.
The screen flickered, then dissolved into static before resolving into a new interface—black background, red digital font, like an old arcade machine rebooting.
LEVEL ONE: TRUST THE LIE
(Find the truth hidden inside a lie. You have 15 minutes.)
A countdown began immediately: 00:14:59… 00:14:58…
Suddenly, a file opened by itself. A folder labeled: "RISA_0325"
His fingers hovered.
He clicked.
Inside were dozens of images and video thumbnails of his sister. Some were childhood photos, others from recent years—most of them he didn't even know existed. Hidden camera angles. Close-ups. Surveillance quality. Tama's stomach turned.
Then he noticed a single video file named: "TRUST_ME.mp4"
He double-clicked it.
The video started with black static, then a voice—mechanical, altered—spoke:
"You've lied before, Tama. You'll lie again. But now, one lie will save her. Or end her."
The footage cut to Risa, still tied up. She was crying, but alive. Then the screen split—on one side, footage of a man entering a building Tama recognized as the old library near their childhood home. On the other side, a news article headline appeared:
"FIRE KILLS THREE IN ABANDONED LIBRARY: Suspected Arson"
Tama's eyes widened. He remembered this.
He had been there that night.
Fifteen years ago.
He had never told anyone.
Not even Risa.
He had seen something—done something—and left.
The fire started an hour later.
He thought it was just coincidence.
Now it was coming back.
The video ended with a new message:
One of them survived. He remembers. He's coming for you.
And below it, a question appeared:
Who started the fire?
(a) Tama
(b) The stranger
(c) Risa
(d) None of the above
Tama's breath caught in his throat.
It was a test.
Not of knowledge—but of memory. Of guilt.
And time was running out.
00:09:44…
He stared at the options. Option (a)—him? He hadn't set any fire. But what if his actions had caused it?
Option (b)—the stranger? He did see someone else there that night, watching him from the shadows, but he could never confirm it.
Option (c)—Risa? Impossible.
Option (d)—None of the above?
Was this the lie he needed to trust?
He remembered the voice: "One lie will save her…"
Tama hovered his cursor over (d).
Click.
The screen went black.
Seconds passed.
Then a soft beep. The countdown stopped.
Correct. You trusted the lie. Level cleared.
He exhaled, finally. His hands were shaking.
Another message blinked.
She lives… for now.
But you've only just begun, Tama.
He didn't notice the camera on his laptop turning on.
Didn't notice the red LED blinking.
Didn't see his own terrified face being streamed to an unknown server.
---
Across the city, in a dark control room filled with monitors and noise, a figure sat watching.
The person's face was hidden behind shadows and a hood.
On screen after screen, people like Tama were being watched. Controlled. Tested.
Some had failed.
Most were dead.
But Tama?
He had passed Level One.
The figure leaned forward.
"Let's see how far he's willing to go."
---
Back in Tama's apartment, his phone buzzed again.
Another image.
This time, it wasn't Risa.
It was a map.
A location pin glowed red in the middle of a worn-down industrial district. Beside it, a single sentence:
Level Two starts in 3 hours. Be there. Or she burns.
Tama grabbed his jacket.
No more hesitation.
He was in the game now.
And someone—something—wanted him to play until the end.
Or die trying.
---
To be continued...