2025,
A sixteen-year-old boy walked along the side of the road with dark circles under tired eyes.
The road was full of people, but no one ever glanced his way. He was by no means ugly, nor was he necessarily handsome—just starkly ordinary. Skinny. Forgettable. The sort of face that passed through life unseen by default.
The boy—Ell—stood before a run-down apartment complex. A place like that made people wonder how someone could live in it.
He entered the building, his room located near the third-floor entrance.
Slowly, he climbed the stairs step by step. This kind of cheap building didn't even have an elevator.
Upon reaching Room 301, he briefly looked at the door adjacent to it—Room 302.
He heard erotic noises from inside.
"Ahh… ahh… give me more…" the woman moaned.
Ell sighed in disgust and shook his head, then entered his own room.
Immediately after stepping inside, he noticed the stench of rotten fish. He hadn't taken out the trash. Garbage bags sat in the corner, making the air stale.
He entered the small hall, where he had spent the entire length of his life.
Still, at the age of sixteen, he had yet to lay eyes on his parents. Maybe they were dead. Or perhaps they simply didn't want him.
He used to ponder this occasionally, but those thoughts now felt like memories from another lifetime—one so distant as to be insignificant.
He had survived the first fifteen years of his life in an orphanage, relying solely on whatever the world wanted to offer him. But when his fifteenth birthday arrived, he made the decision to leave on his own.
That decision had almost destroyed him.
A full meal was a rarity. Rent was a form of torture. Breathing costs money.
Most of his money came from small part-time jobs—whatever he could find. But it was never enough.
"What if Mama were there?" he'd say to himself.
"What kind of karma did I do… to deserve a life like this?"
Yet, despite everything, there was one thing that kept him going.
A game.
A game he had fallen in love with in spite of expectations of a different sort.
The Fate of Your Choices
A story-based game where every storyline culminated in suffering.
Initially, the protagonist was a female character, favored by fate. Depending on the decisions made, the circumstances could change toward a happy ending—rescuing people, altering situations, and creating a future that could seem bright.
However…
There were six heroines.
And no matter what choices Ell made… he could never save them all.
He tried everything.
Every route.
Every hidden path.
Every "perfectly" planned solution.
But the result was always the same.
At least one would die.
Always.
Right now, the screen displayed:
GAME OVER
Forty percent of the six heroines died.
To most players, that would be considered an achievement.
But to Ell…
Just frustration.
Why can't I save them all? They deserve to live. They deserve better.
Irritated and fatigued, Ell shut his computer off.
He turned, picked up a can of Coke, and stepped out of his room.
The moment he entered the hallway, his eyes drifted toward Room 302 again.
This time, he heard an argument.
He would have ignored it. Arguments in that apartment weren't unusual.
But then he heard a scream.
"HELP!"
Ell froze.
The scream came from Room 302.
He didn't think further. He ran toward the door and burst inside.
And what he saw made his blood turn cold.
A man was attempting to murder a woman.
Beside them, another woman lay unconscious on the floor, a pool of blood beside her head.
Ell shouted immediately.
"HEY, MOTHERF*UCKER—WHAT ARE YOU DO—"
The man turned around.
When he saw it was only a skinny teenager, he chuckled.
"Doing what?" he asked casually. "Stay out of this, kid. This is adult business. Not for someone like you to interfere in."
Then he turned back toward the woman, who was clutching her hands and screaming in panic.
"HOW… HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME?! HOW CAN YOU CHEAT ON ME WITH THIS B*TCH?!"
The man sighed, as if bored.
"Heh. Why the drama, huh?" he sneered. "Don't you know, anyway, that I don't feel a damn thing for you? An old hag like you—who do you think would be bothered by you?"
He pointed to the unconscious girl on the floor.
"This girl looks way better. But you had to knock her out. If she dies, that's on you."
Ell's eyes widened.
The unconscious girl was still alive—but barely breathing.
She would die if she didn't receive help soon.
Ell spoke quickly, trying to keep the situation under control.
"Stop fighting for now. Take her with us to the hospital. If she dies, both of you are heading straight to jail!"
The man's face turned grim.
Ell realized immediately—he had made a terrible mistake.
If this gets out… his reputation will be ruined.
"Fine." The man forced a calm smile. "Kid, take her to the hospital. I'll talk to my wife about this."
"You're just—"
Ell stepped forward, picked up the unconscious woman carefully, and turned toward the door.
But just as he moved…
He saw the man reaching for a knife.
Ell's breath caught.
He wasn't naive.
He'd been alone for sixteen years. He knew exactly the kind of people that existed in the world.
The man was going to silence her.
"Guess what!"
Ell shouted—
"WATCH OUT! HE HAS A KNIFE!"
The woman heard him, and she realized the reality of the situation.
Maybe she was scared. She couldn't move.
Or perhaps she had already accepted death at the hands of the man she loved.
Ell rushed forward as fast as he could, trying to stop him.
But his body was weak. Skinny. Underfed.
Nevertheless, he didn't hesitate.
He lunged at the woman, trying to grab her and protect her—
And the very next second…
Pain surged through his belly.
Ell's body froze.
He looked down.
Red drops fell to the floor.
Then he saw it clearly.
The knife was lodged deep in his abdomen.
Perfectly. Like it had been meant to be there.
Ell clenched his teeth.
With all his strength, he grasped the knife… and pulled it out.
Blood poured out at once.
Using his last bit of strength, Ell swung in a wild motion.
It wasn't a clean strike.
But it was enough.
The knife sliced across the man's face, injuring his eye.
"AHHHHH! MY EYE!!" the man screamed—
Ell didn't waste the chance.
He grabbed the wife's wrist and pulled her toward the exit.
But with each step, his sight blurred further.
His body was losing too much blood.
His thoughts began to unravel.
How nice… sixteen years of a dog's life… and this is how it ends.
Dying because of some bastard cheating on his own wife.
What a fcking world.*
His grip tightened, bitterness gathering in his chest.
If I'm ever given a second chance… I'll live life to the fullest.
I'll never be weak again.
And I'll protect what I believe is worth protecting.
He looked at his wife once more.
She trembled, still scared.
Ell knew he was dying…
And perhaps, if he could save even a single human life, then maybe his existence wasn't entirely useless.
He forced his voice out.
"Leave me… and run. That's the only way you survive."
The woman turned, her eyes filled with tears.
"But… what about you? You're badly injured too!"
Ell laughed weakly.
How many years had passed since someone showed concern for him like this?
The only people he remembered were those who talked to him only when they needed something… or people who didn't want to be associated with him at all.
"Don't worry," he whispered. "Even if I look skinny… I'm not someone who dies that easily."
"Now go… take her… and run."
The woman nodded shakily.
She picked up the unconscious girl and whispered—
"Thank you…"
Without looking back, she fled.
Ell eventually collapsed.
His skin turned cold. His lips turned pale. His body shivered as blood drained away.
He stared blankly at the ceiling.
As his final regret formed like a curse—
I wish… I could save those six… heroines…
…They deserved to live…
His eyelids grew heavier.
His final thought was quiet, broken, but filled with determination:
If I have another chance… I'll save them all.
And I'll make sure they live happily…
His eyes closed.
And Ell's life ended.
Astarium Continent
A vast landmass—so huge that the size of Earth became insignificant.
Within an orphanage, a pair of blue eyes slowly opened. They shifted around the room, scanning.
Then the owner of those eyes jolted upright with a frightened shout:
"What the f*ck—"