[ Commencing 1st GAME in 15:32 minutes ]
The white letters glowed on a black screen overhead, ticking down mercilessly.
This was The Death Game.
A book that topped global charts—except now it was real.
One moment I was stirring pasta for dinner. The next, I was locked in a coffin-shaped chamber, my arms and legs strapped to cold metal.
"What the actual fuck is going on?" My voice cracked in the dark.
I thrashed uselessly against the restraints. A rectangular hole yawned beneath my feet—where my body would drop once the countdown ended.
[ 13:02 ]
My heart hammered, each second stabbing into me like needles. This can't be real. This can't be—
But it was.
If this was reality, then I was going to die in the same blood-soaked games I'd only read about.
My mind ran like a broken carousel: questions, denial, fear. Then one thought burned hotter than the rest.
I want to live.
The will to survive surged through me like a tidal wave.
And maybe—I had one advantage.
I knew this novel. I knew the games. I knew how the "main character" won. If I could copy his path—or twist it to my own—I might survive.
It sounded insane. He was supposed to be a mastermind, a prodigy of manipulation. But reading his schemes from the outside… I'd never thought they were that clever.
[ 2:05 ]
My breaths came fast, erratic. Images stabbed through my brain: fire, spikes, blades, choking collars. The games flashed in fragments, each more brutal than the last.
I tried to map the story, to remember characters, alliances, betrayals. Who could I approach? Who could I use? My wrists burned raw as I writhed against the metal.
[ 0:18 ]
My mortality slammed down like a sledgehammer. Blood. Screams. My blood.
I clenched my fists and grit my teeth, bracing for the drop.
"Ahem—uh—the games will begin in three… two… one…"
The nervous male voice echoed from the screen.
With a hiss, the restraints snapped open.
I fell.
Darkness swallowed me whole