Doyeon and The mysterious woman were hit by a truck.
Doyeon lay sprawled across the rain-soaked asphalt, unmoving, unbreathing, broken beyond recognition.
His body was twisted at unnatural angles, one arm bent wrong beneath him, ribs visibly collapsed beneath the impact, his head tilted just slightly too far to the side as rainwater gathered beneath his cheek and mixed with the thin line of blood trailing toward the gutter.
There was no pain anymore. No fear. No sound except the distant hum of the truck that hit them and had already disappeared into the storm. His chest did not rise. His fingers did not twitch.
For a suspended, impossible moment, the world felt paused— like a game waiting for an input.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
And a message appeared on his phone in the asphalt feet away from him.
[You will be transported to your Last CHECKPOINT.]
Doyeon blinked.
Light flooded his vision so violently he thought he was dying a second time. The roar of rain was gone. The smell of blood was gone. The suffocating cold of asphalt vanished.
Instead, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the faint scent of plastic and instant noodles filled the air. He was standing upright. Whole. Breathing.
He was back in.
(The market.)
His phone was still in his hand.
The download screen was still open.
His body felt suddenly too heavy to hold itself up.
"F-f-fuck…" The word trembled out of him as his knees nearly buckled. The memory slammed back into him without mercy— the headlights, the impact, the girl's hand on his wrist, the truck's blinding light swallowing them both.
"AHHHHHHHHH!!"
The scream ripped out of him before he could stop it, raw and animalistic, tearing through the quiet convenience store.
"Young man? Are you okay?"
An elderly man approached him cautiously, placing a gentle hand on his back. The touch was— warm, normal, alive, it triggered something feral inside Doyeon.
He recoiled violently and shoved the old man away on instinct, sending him stumbling to the floor with a startled gasp.
"!? Young man… are you okay?" the man repeated, not angry— only confused.
Whispers rose immediately around them like flies gathering over something rotten.
"Is this a prank?"
"Attention seeker…"
"The old man just wanted to help…"
"Mom… what's wrong with him?"
Doyeon's ears rang. Their faces blurred together. He could feel it— that look. That quiet judgment. That silent labeling. Crazy. Unstable. Dangerous.
His phone began vibrating again.
He looked down.
[You have been transported back to where your last checkpoint has been.]
[And you failed the Date.]
His stomach dropped.
(I died. I died. I know I died.)
The memory of his broken body on the road felt too real, too vivid to be an imagination. His lungs tightened. His palms went cold.
Without apologizing, without looking at anyone again, he grabbed his groceries and rushed out of the store as if something unseen were chasing him.
The automatic doors slid open.
Thunder exploded across the sky.
Rain began pouring— sudden and violent, as if the night itself had been ripped open.
He ran to his car, threw the plastic bags into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut, and locked it immediately, breathing hard as droplets slid down the windshield.
His reflection in the rearview mirror looked pale, hollow-eyed, almost unfamiliar.
He started the engine.
***
(BACK AT THE HIGHWAY)
The highway stretched ahead in blurred streaks of red and white as rain distorted every light into something ghostlike.
His hands trembled on the steering wheel. His heartbeat pounded so loudly it felt like it was echoing inside his skull.
Then—
"Ting."
His phone vibrated violently in its holder.
The screen lit up.
[Turn around!]
[Turn around!]
[Turn left!]
[Do a U-Turn immediately!]
His throat went dry.
(It's the same. It's exactly the same.)
The storm outside seemed louder this time, as if mocking him. The memory replayed in fragments— the figure in the road, the impact, her voice asking if he could see her.
(If I ignore it… I die again.)
He swallowed.
(I'm not stupid. I'm not helpless. This is a game, right? A system. Systems can be beaten.)
He lifted his foot slightly off the accelerator.
And then he saw it.
The dark silhouette standing in the middle of the highway, unmoving, soaked in rain, exactly where it had been before.
His entire body reacted before his brain could process it.
He slammed the brakes.
The car screeched violently against wet asphalt, stopping just inches away from the figure.
Silence filled the interior of the car except for his ragged breathing.
She was there again.
The girl.
Head lowered.
Hair plastered to her face.
Not moving.
Not attacking.
Just standing.
Doyeon's fingers twitched toward the door handle before hesitating. Every instinct screamed at him to drive away. To escape. To pretend this wasn't real.
But he remembered the message.
Checkpoint.
Choice.
Consequences.
He grabbed his phone with one shaking hand and reached behind the passenger seat with the other, pulling out an umbrella. The simple action felt absurdly normal compared to the situation.
He stepped out into the rain.
Cold water soaked into his shoes immediately. Thunder rolled overhead, long and low, as if warning him.
(Doyeon… you can do this.)
His heart hammered against his ribs.
(You're a gamer. You've cleared worse scenarios than this. You just need to pick the right option.)
The girl slowly lifted her head.
And this time—
He didn't run.
His phone vibrated sharply in his hand, the sudden buzz almost making him drop it.
The screen lit up, rainwater streaking across the glass as a new interface formed over the storm-blurred background.
A portrait appeared— a girl with soft purple hair and wide, uncertain eyes. Beneath it, text assembled itself slowly, as if typing in real time.
「Ha-eun (하은)
Mood: scared, confused, CONFUSED, hope.
Intimacy: 1%」
The word CONFUSED flickered once before stabilizing.
Three options materialized beneath the profile.
[Fuck this shit, I'm scared; run!]
[Hey… Are you okay?]
[Ask her who she is.]
The rain poured harder, drumming against the umbrella still closed in his hand. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, loud and uneven. Last time, he hadn't even looked properly. Last time, he chose fear without thinking— and he died for it.
This time, he forced himself to breathe.
(Doyeon… you can do this.)
His thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly. It felt ridiculous— standing in the middle of a storm, inches away from a girl he had once run over, relying on what looked like a dating sim interface to guide him.
But he remembered the truck. The impact. The darkness.
He tapped.
"Ting."
[Ask her who she is] — SELECTED.