"Ring—Ring—Ring..."
The shrill alarm pierced Ethan's mind like sharp needles, stabbing into his brain with each sound. He furrowed his brow, a hint of irritation between his eyes, though his eyelids felt as heavy as lead. He reached out his right hand toward the nightstand—but what he touched was cold, hard, and devoid of warmth... the floor?
He froze, then opened his eyes.
A blinding white fog surrounded him, so bright it stung his eyes. There was no ceiling, no walls—he was lying on a perfectly smooth, almost reflective white floor. It was as cold as marble. He sat up abruptly, and a rush of icy air hit him in the face, as if even the atmosphere had frozen.
He looked around.
Everywhere he could see, there were people. They were scattered haphazardly across the endless white ground—men, women, children, the elderly. A rough estimate put their numbers in the hundreds. Beyond them, a thick, impenetrable fog devoured the horizon, even hanging heavy overhead. The whole world seemed erased by the fog—eerily still, unnervingly quiet.
And in his ears, that mechanical, emotionless ringing continued, like it was announcing the beginning of some impending fate.
As the sound persisted, more and more people began to wake.
Some rubbed their eyes in confusion; some sat up in a panic, glancing around wildly; some clutched their chests, trembling and gasping; others simply broke down crying, their voices echoing sharply through the empty space. A few, bolder than the rest, stood and walked toward the fog. Their figures slowly faded into the mist—blurred, swallowed whole—and did not return.
"Did... he go in?"
"Why hasn't he come back?"
"Could it be... there's no way back?"
Fear spread like a plague through the crowd. Some began to tremble, some hugged themselves tightly as if that could shield them from the chill of this unknown world.
But Ethan remained silent. He didn't focus on the surrounding chaos. Instead, he lowered his eyes, trying to dredge up the last fragments of memory.
—Last night, he was drinking and chatting with friends until dawn.
—This afternoon, he boarded a train to Velon City, and along the way, a mudslide struck.
—Then, chaos. The train derailed. The river swallowed the carriages.
He had died. He clearly remembered the feeling of suffocating in water, sinking, his mind fading. It was as vivid as if it had just happened.
Yet now, his eyes were open. He could still think. Still breathe.
Why?
Not far away, a young man wearing a baseball cap was rotating his arm and muttering, "Weird… my arm was broken in the crash, but now it's totally fine…"
"When the train flipped, I hit my head on the window—there was blood everywhere." An elderly man, his hair graying, followed up in astonishment. "Now, there's not even a scar?"
As if on cue, more people around them began talking, each describing the strange state of their bodies…
At the edge of the crowd, a man named Lucas sat alone, knees drawn up, silently staring at his left leg.
He tapped his kneecap with his fingertip, then pressed down on his shin. He remembered clearly—his leg had been injured. Yet now, it moved freely, not a trace of pain.
"What's going on…?" he muttered, eyes scanning the crowd.
Suddenly, his pupils contracted, like he'd spotted something. He stood and walked purposefully toward someone.
"Hey, man," Lucas said, clapping the guy on the shoulder, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Didn't think I'd see you here. By the way, I never got your name."
Ethan turned and saw the familiar face—it was the man who had grabbed him tightly in the train car. He nodded. "I'm Ethan. I just woke up, too. Still trying to figure this place out. But I saw a few others from our car."
He gestured toward different parts of the crowd.
Lucas followed his gaze and sure enough—there was the woman with the high ponytail, the burly man, and a few more familiar faces.
Just then—
The ringing stopped.
Silence. Oppression. It was as if even the air froze.
A moment later, a figure appeared in mid-air, and everyone instinctively looked up—
It was a female form, but with a giant rabbit head. Her eyes were black and eerie, long white ears draped over her shoulders. She wore a tight-fitting white qipao, gently fanning herself with a bone fan. Her presence was both strange and... unnervingly elegant.
She smiled, and her voice was sweet and pleasant—like silk brushing past the ear.
"Hello, everyone," she said. "I'm your guide—Zero."
At that moment, it was as if everyone stopped breathing.
Zero gently closed her fan with fingers like white jade. Her tone was gentle, but carried undeniable authority.
"You are now in a place called—The In-Between."
She paused, her lips curled in a faint smile, as if recounting an irrelevant dream.
"The In-Between is the space between life and death. You are not yet dead—but no longer truly alive."
A few short sentences pierced everyone's heart like icy spikes.
The crowd stirred. Eyes widened. Some muttered to themselves. Some shook their heads in denial, resisting a reality too terrible to accept.
"Bullshit!"
A tall, muscular bald man burst from the crowd, arms covered in skull tattoos. He pointed angrily at Zero, his voice booming: "You think I'm stupid? No one can be half-dead! If you're trying to trap us, I'll call the cops on you!"
Ethan frowned on the edge of the crowd. A thought flashed through his mind: "Both alive and dead"? Isn't that Schrödinger's cat? Only this time, the cat was human.
Zero's smile didn't falter. She remained unfazed by the crude insult. Slowly, she opened her fan and asked gracefully, "Are you sure… you want to leave?"
The bald man scoffed, "Of course. Who'd stay in this hellhole?"
"Very well."
Her smile remained, but her eyes suddenly changed—her black sclera inverted to a lifeless white, like the eyes of the dead.
In that moment, the entire atmosphere froze.
Whoosh—
A swirl of white mist surged from the ground like a living thing, instantly wrapping around the bald man. His angry shouts turned into bloodcurdling screams.
"AAAAAAH—!"
The fog roiled around him like it was skinning him alive, the pain amplified a thousandfold. The onlookers turned pale and scrambled back, their footsteps chaotic against the floor, leaving a wide, empty space.
A few minutes later, the mist dissipated.
Only a twisted, curled figure remained. His body was swollen and blue, lips purple. One leg was mangled, bone protruding through torn flesh—unrecognizable.
"T-this..."
"Oh god… what happened to him…"
Zero gently waved her fan, voice suddenly cold: "He tried to leave the In-Between. Which means all that remains for him is death. This is what he looked like when he died—drowning, crushed, shattered... All of it manifested at once. So—does anyone else want to leave?"
Her white eyes swept across the crowd. Everywhere her gaze touched, people shivered like they'd been stabbed in the spine, and one by one, they lowered their heads.
No one dared speak again.
Zero, satisfied, let her eyes return to black. Her tone softened once more, dreamlike and gentle:
"Now then, your opportunity has arrived—a chance to return to the real world. To be reborn. Complete all the tasks, and you may return to life."
She paused, a faint smile playing at her lips, as if savoring the shift in everyone's expression.
Sure enough, the crowd began to stir again. The terror in their eyes quickly gave way to hope, doubt, greed, and longing.
"Resurrection?"
"Can we really… go back?"
"What kind of tasks?"
"There will be nine tasks in total," Zero continued sweetly. "Each is worth 100 points. 60 points is passing. Only those who pass may proceed to the next task. Fail, and you will be erased. At the end, those who score over 810 points may be revived."
"To die during a task means true death. No returning to the In-Between. No miracles. Only—the end."
A long silence fell, as if even the air had solidified.
Then, with a delicate wave of her fan, Zero added, "However—points can be transferred."
The crowd erupted.
"Transferred?"
"How?!"
Amid the rising chatter, a cold, sharp male voice cut through like a dagger:
"Miss Zero, may I ask—how does point transfer work?"
Ethan looked over and saw a man in his thirties, eyes sharp as blades behind gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in a crisp suit like he'd just stepped out of an investment firm. His aura was cold and calculating—like a wolf sizing up prey.
Zero covered her smile with her fan and giggled. "Excellent question."
With a flick of her fan—
Snap!
A white bracelet appeared on everyone's left wrist, as if grown from beneath the skin—cold and snug.
"This bracelet tracks your current task, points, and time remaining. As long as the wearer is alive, it cannot be removed or destroyed. If the wearer dies, the bracelet falls off—and transfers 5% of their total points to the next holder."
As she finished, a new pressure filled the air—something oppressive, like a scent of blood. Some people eyed their neighbors. Others touched their bracelets, expressions guarded.
Ethan's heartbeat quickened.
His mind raced: Death, points, transfer… What would that lead to? Theft? Betrayal? Murder?
This wasn't just a survival game.
It was a hunting ground.
At that moment, Zero clapped her hands in the air. The sound wasn't loud, but it silenced everything instantly.
"If there are no more questions…" Her smile curled like a demon from hell.
"Then—the first task begins now."
In the next second, the fog above them cascaded down like a flood, engulfing everything.
Ethan's vision went black.
And consciousness vanished.