"Ash. Ash, wake up."
My mother's soft voice floated through the thin walls, cutting into my dreamless sleep. My eyes snapped open to the pale morning light bleeding through the cracked blinds above me.
"I'm up, Mom!" I called back, my voice dry but loud enough to reach her.
"You're going to be late!"
I swung my legs over the edge of my cot. The floorboards were freezing under my feet. My jeans lay crumpled on the chair; I shoved my legs into them and yanked my faded blue hoodie over my head. The fabric hung loose, torn at the cuffs and frayed at the hem.
In the cracked mirror by the door, I tugged at the hoodie, trying to smooth it out.
"You're barely holding together, huh?" I muttered, giving the sleeve a gentle tug. "Guess I'll have to buy a new one… someday."
I grabbed my black pouch, slipping it into my pocket, and stepped out of my tiny room. The smell of toasted bread drifted toward me, warm and inviting despite everything.
My mother sat at the kitchen table, her thin hands folded neatly. A plate of bread waited for me.
"Oh, Mom, I have to go," I said, snatching a piece and taking a quick bite as I headed toward the door.
"But… didn't you deliver the parcel yesterday?" she asked, her brow wrinkling.
I smiled faintly and shook my head.
"No. He asked me yesterday, but I told him I'd handle it this morning," I said. "Besides… today's also Cassie and I's anniversary. So I might be home late tonight."
I leaned down, kissed her cheek, and reached for the door.
"Okay, Mom. Bye!"
But her voice stopped me halfway through.
"Ash?"
I turned, hand still on the knob.
"Yeah?"
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing a little.
"What day is it?"
I laughed under my breath.
"Tuesday. May 25th."
Her lips pressed into a thin, worried line.
"No… today's Wednesday. The 26th. Yesterday was your anniversary."
I froze, the bread still in my hand.
"That… that's not right," I whispered.
And then — ding.
A sharp chime cut through the air, echoing directly in my skull. I flinched, clutching my head as blue light bloomed in front of me.
It floated there — a glowing screen, alive and humming faintly, letters etched into the air like fire:
「 Quest: The First Blood 」
Every villain begins with blood. Take your first.
Kill a soul.
Target: Human or Alien.
Complete this quest to become a Player.
WARNING:
Failure to complete this quest will result in consequences.
My breath hitched.
"Mom… do you… see that?" I asked, my voice shaking as I pointed at the glowing words.
She blinked at me, her hands clenching her apron.
"See what, baby? Ash… what's wrong? You're pale. You're scaring me."
No.
The words throbbed in front of me, the final line pulsing blood-red, almost like a heartbeat. Consequences. Consequences.
I stumbled back, my chest tightening, every muscle in my body screaming. This—
This was in my dream last night.
Delivering the parcel to Mr. Goran.
Stopping by the comic store.
Buying the necklace for Cassie.
Walking in on her and Ryan—
Her laugh. His hands on her.
And then—
Gunfire.
Pain.
Darkness.
I clawed at my chest, searching desperately for a bullet wound… but there was nothing. Not even a scratch.
"Mom," I croaked, my hand trembling as I reached for her. "Are you… sure today is Wednesday?"
Her fingers wrapped around mine, tight and warm, but her eyes shimmered with fear.
"Ash… you're frightening me. Please, tell me what's going on. Talk to me," she begged.
"I…" My throat burned, words sticking like thorns. "If what happened yesterday really happened… then I should be dead. I was dead."
Her hands flew to her mouth as her tears spilled over.
"Don't… don't say that. Please don't say that again," she whispered. "You're my only son. My strength. My hope. Don't leave me…"
I forced a shaky smile, pulling her close, feeling how fragile she was in my arms.
"I'm sorry, Mom," I murmured, tucking her head under my chin. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm okay. Look at me — I'm right here."
But my eyes stayed locked on the screen, still floating silently behind her.
And then —
Ding…
WARNING:
Failure to complete this quest will result in consequences.
Time left: 00h 30m 50s
Do this… and you may live.
Fail… and you'll learn what it means to suffer.
The last line lingered longer than the others, as if spoken straight into my head, colder and sharper than ice.
Why was I the only one who could see it?
Why did it sound like it was… smiling?
After calming Mom down, I forced a smile on my face and stepped outside. The air hit me like usual — sharp, cold, and heavy with the smell of trash and smoke. My sneakers crunched against the cracked concrete as the faint hum of the blue screen followed me, floating just out of reach.
I kept my head down and muttered, "If I just ignore it… maybe it'll go away. Just… don't look at it."
But no matter how much I tried not to, its faint glow still hovered in my vision.
「 The First Blood 」 — Kill a soul. Human or Alien.
I swallowed hard and shoved my hands deep into my hoodie pocket.
When I reached the comic shop, I exhaled slowly, letting the door creak shut behind me. The bell chimed softly, and the smell of paper and old ink wrapped around me.
At the corner of the street earlier, I had seen an old woman struggling to cross. My first instinct had been to help — like always. But… my legs hadn't moved. I just stood there, stiff, like my body belonged to someone else, and watched her make it to the other side by herself.
Even now, my hands still shook thinking about it.
What's happening to me?
The shop was quiet for a few minutes before a skinny boy with a middle-class uniform shuffled over. His glasses slipped down his nose, and his fingers nervously tugged at his sleeve.
"Um… do you have the latest Flash edition?" he asked softly.
I nodded and pointed toward the back corner.
"Yeah. Third shelf."
He hesitated. "C-can you help me find it? Please?"
Usually, I'd have already been halfway there. But this time… something dark curled in my chest.
Before I even thought about it, the words left my mouth:
"You've got hands, don't you? Go find it yourself, skinny nerd."
The boy flinched, his ears turning red. He didn't say a word — just lowered his head and walked over to the shelves, his shoulders tight.
I stood frozen, my hand halfway to my mouth.
Why did I say that?
Why… did it feel so easy?
Before I could even process it, the door to the shop slammed open so hard the bell snapped off and clattered to the floor.
I jerked back as four figures filled the doorway.
Knyfe's tax collectors.
They didn't just enter — they owned the room the moment they stepped inside.
Crow — tall and bony, with black feathers woven into his tangled hair, his sharp eyes sweeping the shop like a predator.
Rock — a huge slab of muscle, cracking his knuckles lazily, the shelves groaning every time he moved too close.
Patch — quiet and unsettling, his stitched-up eyepatch glinting under his messy bangs, flipping a coin over and over in his palm.
And Ink — youngest but the loudest, tattoos crawling up his neck and arms, spinning a knife between his fingers like it was a toy.
They spread out in front of the counter, grinning like hyenas.
Ink leaned forward, his elbows digging into the counter, gum snapping between his teeth.
"Hey, Ashley," he said, my name dripping with mockery. "Where's your tax money? Don't tell me a good boy like you forgot… again."
Behind him, the others chuckled under their breath.
I swallowed hard. The blue screen pulsed in the corner of my vision, brighter now.
My fingers twitched inside my pocket, and for the first time in my life… my chest felt tight, heavy.
The four of them stared at me, waiting.