"I looked everywhere for the truth, and even to this day, I would die for it.
But in the land of lies, there is a truth that burns—
There is a king, and his name is not Reaper.
No... it is Liar."
Game Master:
"There seems to be some confusion," he said, his voice smooth and sharp.
"This game is not for your entertainment. If you survive, you'll be inducted into the Liar Games.
From there, you may claw your way up the ranks—if you have the stomach for it."
He scanned the crowd. His stare made you feel like he already knew your secrets and whatever pride you held.
"Most of you are expendable," he said, the words falling like stone.
"I'm not here for players.
I'm here for liars."
"So with that… the games continue."
"You see," he said, his voice calm and deliberate, "I believe in fate.
If you win these games, it won't be due to your strength, skill, or will.
It will be because the script decided it."
"No matter how hard you fight,
No matter how loudly you scream,
No matter how desperately you claw at fate,
It won't change a thing."
"This world doesn't bend for hope; it crushes it."
"No one escapes what's already been written. Destiny doesn't care about your dreams, your ambition, or your begging."
"We're all just pieces on the board. And the game?
It ended long before you took your first breath."
"So struggle if you must. Resist. Pretend you have control.
But in the end… fate always wins."
[A sharp buzz cuts through the room. The screen behind the Game Master glows blood red. A five-minute countdown begins.]
Game Master:
"Now… twenty-five players will be executed at random."
"You have five minutes to prepare."
[Panic surges. Shouts erupt. Footsteps scatter. But in the chaos, two players remain still.]
Player 43:
"What… what is this…?"
Player 42 (rising from his bed):
"You're surprised?"
Player 43 clutched at his collar, fingers trembling. His glasses—perfectly maintained until now—slipped down his nose, but he made no move to adjust them. The perfect posture he'd maintained throughout the bureaucratic selection process had crumbled.
"I thought I was here for a test," he whispered, voice cracking. "I applied to the civil service exam. Passed every requirement. Perfect scores on ethics and governance." His hands clenched and unclenched. "I just wanted a career as a government official. To serve. To make things better."
The fluorescent lights caught the sheen of sweat on his forehead as he lowered his head, shoulders curving inward.
"And now I'm in some kind of... death lottery?"
Player 42 watched him, expression unreadable. The scar across his right hand caught the light as he folded his arms—an old wound, precisely placed. He'd been still as stone during the executions, neither flinching nor fidgeting.
"Well..." he said, measuring each word like a pharmacist with poison, "welcome, I guess."
His eyes, when they met Player 43's, held something between pity and calculation.
Player 43:
"This isn't what they promised. They said I'd be trained, evaluated… given a role in the system."
Player 42:
"They didn't lie.
This is the evaluation. You're just seeing what lies beneath the surface."
(He looks around the room.)
"People think climbing the ladder makes them safe. But up here… the stakes are just higher. The blood is cleaner.
The rules? don't protect you.
They erase you."
Player 43:
"So what? That's it? We just stand here and wait to die?"
Player 42:
"That's up to you.
Some people run.
Some beg.
Some lose their minds in the final seconds."
(Glances at the timer: 3:17…)
"But you want to survive.
Player 43:
"Of course I do!"
Player 42:
survival here isn't about strength. It's about understanding the script.
And right now, we're being tested.
If you don't learn fast… you're already dead."
Player 43:
"But you just said it's all decided. That nothing we do matters, that is fate
Player 42:
"Is fate something we shape with our will, or merely a path carved before our birth? We chase choices, cling to the illusion of freedom, but every step feels like it was always meant to happen. Humans speak of purpose, of destiny, yet behind it all lurks the same silent truth:
We are swept along by a current far older than us, deeper than reason.
And no matter how far we run, how fiercely we resist, the end remains unchanged.
We have but one fate, and that is death.
Player 42:
"Most people think fate means helplessness.
But the truth? Fate is a current. If you fight it blindly, it drowns you.
But if you learn how it flows…
You might ride it long enough to live."
Player 43:
"…You talk like you've been through this before."
Player 42 doesn't reply.
Player 43:
"…So what do we do?"
Player 42:
"We wait.
We watch.
And when the time comes—when the script offers us a choice—we don't hesitate to face destiny."
[Timer: 2:01… 2:00…]
Player 42 (murmuring):
"Fate is cruel.
But it's not blind."
(He pauses, then begins again.)
Player 42:
"You see… in these games, you're only a liar if you get caught."
Player 43:
"So what's the point, then? Why make every game revolve around lies if they're that fragile?"
Player 42:
"That's where you're wrong."
(He pauses briefly.)
"Lies aren't meant to be strong.
They're meant to destroy the truth."
Player 43:
"…Destroy the truth?"
Player 42:
"A true liar doesn't build walls—he blurs lines."
(He steps closer, eyes narrowing.)
"He mixes lies and truth so perfectly, you can't tell where one ends and the other begins."
Player 43:
"So deception isn't just a tactic… it's the game itself."
Player 42:
"Exactly.
The moment you start questioning reality…
The liar has already won."
He paused, grinning
"But if i am to be completely honest,
I am that liar."