Rain dripped down the cracked hallway tiles, seeping towards the sewers below.
Moonlight caught on a cracked mirror, shimmering across the room with a faint glow.
In the silent room, a young man dressed in pajamas lay still—then he jolted awake and scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was.
The room was nearly pitch-black, lit only by a flickering ceiling light. A desk near the closed window was filled with crumpled papers and food waste.
He paused.
He swung his legs off the bed and rushed toward the desk. He swiped the curtains aside, then pushed the window open. A cold chill brushed his skin, and the wind lifted his hair.
He took a deep breath of the cold air. He glanced down at the table. A phone lay in a corner covered with dust and crumbs.
He grabbed the phone, brushing off the dust and crumbs.
As he stared at it, the phone lit up on its own.
The phone showed a full battery… even though the room looked abandoned.
He swiped down and saw no notification, no signal, and no time.
Unease crept in as he tried to close it—but the screen opened again the moment he stared at it.
"What the—"
Suddenly, his phone dinged.
He froze, a notification popped up.
[Notification from ZipGo]: A booking nearby. Hurry up and take it!
Description: A small cake from 8/11
Location: XXXX St, Sunville.
Distance: 3km.
Tip: Completing deliveries boosts your Charm Points!
He tilted his head, muttering, "Charm Points?"
Something about the tone of the message made him pause. Like a game… he thought.
His mind flickered back.
Back to his old life.
He had once been an idol. A rising star, flawless in front of cameras, adored by thousands. Every smile, every movement, every note—each was calculated, rehearsed, executed perfectly.
Backstage, when the cameras stopped rolling, his life was nothing like what the world saw. Exhaustion. Isolation. Endless pressure. Fans adored the persona, not the person behind it. Mistakes weren't forgiven—they were erased, covered up, or turned into public apologies.
He had learned to survive by staying calm. By being perfect. By keeping a mask, even when his body ached, even when he wanted to scream
But that life ended the moment someone decided he wasn't supposed to survive.
The memory hit him suddenly—the day of the assassination.
He had been walking to a late-night car pickup after a performance. The city streets were quiet for once, just a few cars humming along empty lanes. He adjusted his jacket, keeping his hands visible and calm. Just another night. Nothing unusual.
That was all he could remember.
The phone dinged again.
[ZipGo: The booking was already accepted by someone. Better luck next time!]
He set the phone down on the desk and sat in the chair. The moonlight poured through the window, casting a soft glow across the table.
"Where am I?" He muttered.
He leaned his back against the chair while rubbing his stomach.
"Damn, I need food," he growled.
He stood up from the chair, stretching his arms toward the table.
Only then did it hit him how fucked up this place was: a broken bedframe, unwashed clothes rotting on the floor, and things so foul he refused to look twice.
Finding food here was probably a waste of time—but giving up was never an option.
Or at least.
He wrinkled his nose. "This place is disgusting…"
"This isn't the afterlife they're talking about," he muttered.
The afterlife was supposed to have glowing skies, floating islands, and maybe a calm voice welcoming him to eternal peace.
"Afterlife should be a paradise not this shit," He let out an exaggerated groan and slumped against the wall.
That hurts
He lowered his head and saw a shattered mirror beneath him. He stared at it and saw his own reflection. His face looks the same but his skin is slightly paler.
He frowned.
"...I look dead," he muttered.
The reflection blinked.
He leaned closer, heart pounding, but the mirror showed nothing unusual anymore. Just his own tired face staring back.
Then his phone vibrated.
He picked it up from the table and opened it.
Another notification popped up.
[Dad: Son, I know you're still awake. I will tell you something tomorrow—it's very important. Sleep early.]
Dad? I have a dad in the afterlife? he thought.
He played along and replied. "Alright dad, I will sleep early," he chuckled.
The dad replied back in thumbs up.
He sighed, stood, and put the phone in his pocket.
A sharp pain twisted his stomach, forcing a groan out of him.
"I think I can't... hold it anymore," he said weakly. "I need to find food as soon as possible."
He spotted a fridge in the corner and opened it out of desperation.
Inside, was expired milk, egg shells, and one sealed suspicious bar labeled;
"Not for humans?"
He stared down at it. "Really?"