Chapter One: Gray in an Unknown World
It was a calm morning. The golden rays of the sun slipped through the thin veil of clouds, bathing the endless rice paddies below in a warm, serene glow. The fields stretched out like a vast green ocean, each stalk shimmering gently in the breeze. Nestled at the heart of this peaceful landscape stood a modest two-story house, its quiet presence blending naturally into the beauty that surrounded it.
Inside the kitchen on the first floor, a young man of twenty-two moved with quiet precision. His blonde hair caught the light as he worked, and his blue eyes, framed by rectangular glasses, were focused and steady. He wore a crisp white shirt tucked into neatly pressed black pants, and every motion—from flipping a pan to reaching for spices—was calm and deliberate. From time to time, he glanced out the kitchen window, taking in the tranquil view beyond, as if drawing peace from the land itself.
Upstairs, a long hallway connected the rooms of the house. At its start stood two doors: the one on the right led to a bathroom, while the left opened into a tidy bedroom. Sunlight poured in through an open window, casting a warm, golden light across the room. The bed was made with care, a small nightstand beside it holding a few neatly arranged personal items. A modest wardrobe stood at the foot of the bed, and every inch of the space spoke of order and simplicity. It was the kind of room that offered quiet comfort just by being in it.
But further down the hallway, a different door revealed a different world.
This room was cloaked in shadow. The closet door hung open, its contents spilled across the floor. Clothes were strewn everywhere—some draped over the bed, others pooled in corners. A small desk sat by the wall, lit only by the glow of a computer screen. Beneath it, a trash bin overflowed with empty noodle cups and snack wrappers. A fridge hummed softly near the corner, surrounded by dirty dishes. The air felt heavier here—thick with neglect, disarray, and a strange fogginess that clung to the space.
In front of the screen sat another young man, his posture slouched, his face pale and drawn. His dark eyes, heavy with exhaustion, were shadowed by sleeplessness. Long black hair fell to his shoulders in tangled strands. He wore a loose black T-shirt and matching pants that hung on him like clothes a size too large. Despite the mess around him, his gaze remained locked on the glowing screen, fingers twitching lightly on the keyboard. It was as if the rest of the world had faded into silence, leaving only him and whatever unfolded before him on that display.
Suddenly, the door opened.
The blonde young man stepped inside, carrying a plate of food. He kicked aside a few scattered clothes and placed the plate on the bed. Then, without a word, he crossed to the window and pushed it open. Sunlight streamed in instantly, flooding the dark room with warmth and light.
"Ugh..." the boy at the desk groaned, shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness. The faint light that had crept in when the door opened was tolerable—but this? This was too much.
The visitor turned toward him, eyes glancing at the screen. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Getting roasted again, huh, Daniel?"
Still staring at the screen, Daniel replied flatly, "They're all idiots. If they had the brain of a toddler, they'd realize we could win—if only they'd follow my plan."
Salim watched the situation closely and said,
"You're the one who started this. How do you expect them to listen to someone playing aggressively in attack positions with a support character?"
"So what?" Daniel replied confidently.
"They're just idiots following the game system blindly. Why should we follow everything they say? Aren't the game creators human too? They make mistakes. Look at the screen — isn't it obvious I'm the best on my team?"
Salim didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned toward something hanging in the air and pointed at it.
"And what about this?"
Daniel seemed to know exactly what Salim was referring to. He answered,
"What? Why are you asking me that? Is there anything I can do? Even the entire world hasn't found a logical explanation for this."
Next to them, floating screens displayed a countdown timer. Only ten minutes remained before it reached zero.
Salim, watching the timer, said,
"Anyway, if one of us disappears, the other will hold a funeral. What do you think about that? At least, that's what people have done before."
"I don't want a funeral."
Salim didn't respond. He pulled out his phone and began searching for any new information. After a while of persistent searching, he found no updates or significant changes. Then he switched to the videos section on his phone and opened one with an enormous number of views. The video had been downloaded two years ago, catching his attention because of its strange content.
In the video, a young man spoke:
"Everyone, there's only one minute left on the countdown. No one knows what's going to happen next. They say it's a new system to control the world. This screen has appeared for a month now, counting down, showing up to every person on Earth. Stay with me until the end… only 10 seconds left… 9, 8, 7… alright, fear is creeping in now… 3, 2, 1."
Then, a blinding light burst from the young man's body as he screamed in terror. The light grew stronger gradually, reaching a brightness no human eye could bear. Suddenly, he vanished into the intense light, dropping his phone to the floor, and the video ended abruptly.
After finishing the video, Salim moved to the statistics section for missing persons from last year and the year before. The number remained the same — 100 million people. Salim and Daniel remembered this event clearly from two years ago when they witnessed it firsthand. They had gone to the neighboring city back then, both shocked and terrified by what happened.
Lost in deep thought, Salim was suddenly snapped back to reality by Daniel's loud shout:
"Ugh, those idiots… I lost because of them!" Daniel said angrily. Then he saved a specific name in his memory and headed to the block list, starting to block that person by every means possible. Salim watched this unfold, feeling frustrated with how things had come to this. The problem was, even in times as critical as these, some people kept playing—just like the one right in front of him.
After a short while, Daniel got up from his chair and moved to sit on the bed. He glanced at the breakfast Salim had prepared and grabbed a piece of fried potato.
"The problem isn't this year," Daniel said. "Even if it doesn't happen this year, it'll happen next year or the year after."
Salim responded quickly, "Who told you there's gonna be a next year? Maybe this is the last year this thing happens."
Daniel frowned, frustration creeping into his voice. "Look, Salim, I hate those dumb thoughts more than anything else. If you were right, this screen wouldn't show up for everyone—it'd only pop up for those who vanish. That's just nonsense spread by some cowards trying to trick people with lies to keep them under control." He grabbed a few more fries. "Why'd you make breakfast now anyway? You're dumb. You could've made half of this if you waited a bit."
Salim smirked, teasing, "Don't worry, if you disappear, I'll eat your share." Then he turned back to his phone, diving into his screen again.
While Salim got lost in his thoughts, Daniel suddenly felt waves of drowsiness wash over him. He lay back on the bed and started reflecting on his past. He remembered how his life began in the orphanage, how he met Salim, who became his closest friend simply because they were the same age. Neither of them knew anything about their parents. He recalled how they used to go to school together, always excelling, and how they both worked part-time to earn some money on the side. When they turned sixteen, they decided to leave the orphanage and bought this house with the money they had saved together.
The house had been cheap, mostly because it was far from the nearest neighborhood—about an hour's walk to the closest town. With modern farming technology advancing, the house lost much of its value, so the owner wanted to sell it. But there were other problems too, like poor security, which became obvious a month after they moved in when some burglars broke in. They didn't find any money but took some electronics before leaving.
After that incident, Salim and Daniel decided to learn how to defend themselves. They took classes in boxing, karate, and kung fu, and even learned how to handle bladed weapons. A year later, Daniel dropped out of school—it just wasn't for him—and started working online. He quickly found success, got into the stock market, and became wealthy. He even donated a respectable amount to the orphanage. He could've bought a better house downtown but refused to leave the place he loved. They agreed that if either of them got married—specifically Salim—he'd leave the house, and Daniel planned to buy a place downtown to start his social life.
Daniel also remembered changing his name to "Daniel," just like Salim did. Salim kept studying and excelling—he's currently in medical school. During that time, Daniel bought him a car to make his trips easier, while Salim handled the household shopping.
Life had been calm until that terrible event two years ago.
Daniel's thoughts were suddenly interrupted when a pillow smacked his face. He looked up to see Salim pointing at the screen—the timer showed only 30 seconds left.
They started throwing pillows at each other in a pillow fight, but suddenly, time ran out and a blinding light erupted from their bodies together. Daniel went back to bed, half asleep, grabbing another fry and muttering, "What a waste of food."
But Salim didn't stop. He tossed one last pillow, which Daniel blocked as his eyes followed Salim's fist reaching toward him.
The moment their fists touched, a wave of dazzling light exploded—a blazing beam that filled the entire room. Lights danced and flared around them like time itself had frozen. They felt as if caught in the heart of a massive explosion, being pulled into another world—a place neither of them knew how they'd entered or how they'd ever return from.