“She just.. left. How could she? She promised we…” He muttered the words on a loop, glitching almost, like an NPC stuck between scripts, stumbling forward without aim.

Ava lingered a few steps behind, uncertain whether to follow—

when a sharp chime cut through the air.

Ding.

New fragment triggered. Do you want to rewind to the event that took place here yesterday at this time? Yes or no.

Clicking Yes felt like pressing a trigger.

The world around her rippled; colors bending, sound thinning, until everything snapped back into place. The same roundabout, the same flowerbeds… yet everything felt unnervingly alive. The police tape had vanished, as if the future crime had never existed. And Ethan was gone.

So this is yesterday… She exhaled, full of eagerness to catch something the present had buried, but the system, with a sharp mechanical voice, warned:

“This is the past. You can only watch. You cannot record, cannot interact with anyone, and you must not attempt to change anything.

Failure to comply will cost you a… life.”

The a final line appeared, slower, almost with a hint of the human tone of intimidation.

Ava swallowed hard.

Not a metaphor.

Not an exaggeration.

The system meant one of her three precious lives.

She kept still, waiting for the key event—until she saw Lily.

A warm smile lit up the girl’s face as she talked on the phone. She slowed, then stopped, changing her path toward the roundabout, unaware it would soon become the place of her tragic end.

Ava approached her slowly, watching the young girl, so full of life, gently caress the flowers. It was hard to believe Lily would die here. The girl didn’t seem to notice her at all; she just kept talking.

“I didn’t know they bloomed. He was right, they look ethereal. Maybe you can come tomorrow so we can take a photo… mm, of that too. Um… tell me about it. I can hardly talk; my throat is scratched. I knew I shouldn’t have…”

Ava froze.

Wait.

The voice coming through the phone was… familiar.

It was her voice.

Lily wasn’t talking to someone unknown—she was talking to Ava.

And the he she mentioned was probably Ethan.

Lily resumed her walking, and the last thing Ava heard was a faint, tired laugh followed by, “Me too… I only slept three hours yesterday. I was so nervous. Hope tonight’s different.”

Then the world snapped back to the present.

No Lily.

No Ethan.

Just the roundabout, empty and colder than before.

Ava searched the map on her phone and found a 24-hour internet café a street away where she could spend the night. She scoured every news site she could find, yet nothing mentioned the incident. It was as if it had never happened at all. After watching a few episodes of Sherlock Holmes, trying to learn a thing or two, she returned to the roundabout. Most of the players were already there. She retreated to a convenience store, eating instant noodles and looking outside through the glass. The shadow was still there. She could sense she was being watched whenever she approached.

Minimize interactions, she warned herself. If I go near them and panic breaks out, someone could shove me straight into danger. And I’d end up losing a life.

Fatigue dragged at her eyelids.

Ahh, I’m so tired.

I should get some sleep now. I was already starting to get sleepy when the game kidnapped me. If I don’t sleep enough, I can’t be fully alert when the real deal starts. Since I triggered the fragment by being in the same spot at the same time as yesterday, the scene of the crime can be rewound if I go back at 3:30 a.m.

So what if the café isn’t quiet? If I could sleep through high-school brawls back in the day, I can sleep through clicking keyboards and raging gamers.

Setting an alarm for 3 a.m., she put on headphones, played rain sounds, and lay back in the chair.

Just before sleep claimed her, a final thought sliced through the fog:

I should check whether Lily ever sent Ava a message.

And then the darkness swallowed her whole.

Waking up to the shrill alarm she’d already silenced once, she almost let herself fall back into sleep—until a sudden jolt of dread shot through her. At least I was smart enough to set more than one alarm.

Her eyelids felt glued shut. She pried them open, vision swimming, and staggered to the bathroom. The water she splashed on her face was ice-cold, but it did nothing to scrub away the feeling that something had followed her through her dreams. The vending machine coffee tasted metallic, but she downed it anyway before stepping outside.

Her footsteps were soft but wide, calculated—the way prey moves when it knows a hunter might still be near. She held Ava’s bag tight against her chest, fingers white, every muscle ready to snap into a sprint at the slightest shift in the air.

From behind the rough bark of a tree, she watched the scene. A scattered group of players walked around, scanning the area with restless eyes. They looked like ordinary people; tired, confused, anxious.

But the place felt wrong. The silence had weight.

But at least no one from the game’s world was around, meaning no sign of whoever orchestrated last night’s horror.

Good. If I run into that violent criminal, I think he won’t hesitate to silence me. The sight of relief hadn’t left her mouth when it was blocked by a thought that slipped through her mind.

Her gaze drifted from face to face. Blank expressions. Forced calm. Nervous movements.

Wait a minute… what if the murderer is… one of the players?

If I can be Lily’s best friend, why can’t one of them be the killer? And if that’s true, would he need to follow some rule—would he have to kill any new witnesses?

The system intervened, smoothing her fear.

“As previously mentioned, the game doesn’t allow weapons into the game, and you can’t use the ones from this world either unless it’s for self-defence. The game condemns violence committed by the players.”

“Umm… good. Or not? What do you mean “committed by the players”? What about the others? They can just assault us at will with no consequences? System, you gotta report this nonsense to the higher-ups. What about immunity to attacks?”

The system replied with one sentence—there is a reason you had more than one life—then turned a deaf ear to Ava’s increasingly unrealistic suggestions.

At 3:25, Ava noticed the shadow from earlier growing restless. It didn’t attack any of the players, but it kept slithering across the walls and the ground as if searching for something. She slowed her breathing, praying it wouldn’t come close.

Then a hand patted her shoulder.

Frozen in place, she refused to look back and tried to run.

Ava tried to run, but her legs barely responded—more a stagger than an escape. The hand didn’t tighten, didn’t drag her back. It just rested there, warm, steady, horribly human.

“Hello there, Player 3.”

She turned her head just enough to see him in the corner of her vision—tall, calm, eyes reflecting the dim light like polished glass. Too composed. Too unbothered by the shadow writhing along the wall behind him.

“Player 5, that is not a very safe way to greet people,” she muttered.

She finished the sentence in silence: I was about to rearange you face with the bag full of heavy study guides.

“I was gonna ask you for another small favor,” he said, studying her face. “But judging from that forced smile, you’re not in a good mood.”

“It’s not like you’re any different,” she shot back.

Their conversation was cut short by the system.

Ding.

New fragment triggered. Do you want to rewind to the event that took place here yesterday at this time?

Yes or no.

Ava reached for the “Yes” icon—hesitation tightening her fingers—when the restless shadow suddenly vanished, as if yanked out of existence.

Silence fell.

A deep, unnatural silence.

Then she heard it.

Heels.

Heavy and rhythmic.

Each step landing with a force that vibrated through the ground—click… click… click—approaching with the cold confidence of something that knew it didn’t need to run.

Something else followed the steps.

A dragging sound.

Slow. And weighty.

As if something was being pulled across the floor.

Ava’s fingertip pressed Yes before she could follow the source of the sound.

The world didn’t snap this time—it peeled.

Like someone was slowly lifting away the present, layer by layer, until only the memory beneath remained.

The air dimmed.

The colors washed out.

Player 5, along with the others, blurred into gray silhouettes, their outlines trembling as if caught between moments, then dissolving altogether.

Leaving her alone.

Alone to face what could only be described as light and darkness; two sides of humanity tearing at each other, fighting to reach the outcome they deemed necessary.

Ava’s focus narrowed the moment Lily entered the scene: headphones loose around her neck, phone in hand, wearing a dress that looked like it had been stitched together from the remnants of a midnight garden. Red spider lilies bloomed where they pleased, not where they were invited. Scattered blossoms clung to the layered skirt, their stems slipping into the folds as if they were trying to hide a secret.

The bodice carried the heaviest bloom, petals curling against her skin, poised somewhere between beauty and warning. It was a gown that felt alive.

Wow… such a beautiful dress, Ava thought. Deserving to be the last thing worn. I always wondered what I would choose if I knew I was dying. Now I know; it should be something this extravagant.

Lily paid Ava no attention. She went straight to the cursed roundabout and began taking photos, changing poses and angles with the precision of a working bee. After a few minutes, she crouched, fingers grazing the flowers, almost reluctant to part from them. Her hand slid to a stem, lingered, then retreated without picking anything.

She turned as if to leave… then changed her mind.

A small walk might help me calm down so I can sleep, she murmured, drifting toward the street while sending voice messages—ironically—to Ava herself.

“I went out and took pictures in advance. This late-night vibe fits the dress perfectly. And don’t forget to edit them, the lighting is… ugh. Haha—bet he never guessed I’d have it made. I’ll say it again: don’t send any to him.”

As she passed the alleyway, something hit the wall inside—dull, heavy. Ava, walking a short distance behind, sighed. An important rule of surviving anything: never follow strange sounds.

Surprisingly, Lily didn’t. She began to retreat… but froze when a muffled cry leaked out of the darkness.

She hesitated for a full minute. Then, quietly, she slipped off her heels and ran back to the roundabout. After searching through the clusters of flowers, she pulled something out; a pair of small grass shears workers had forgotten.

Returning to the alley, she put her heels back on. She slid her headphones over her ears—not to listen, but to mask intent—and tucked the newly acquired weapon into her surprisingly deep pockets.

A dress this beautiful, and it has pockets. The designer is a genius, Ava thought, absurdly.

Lily’s footsteps became louder, deliberate, as she approached. She began singing as loud as her hoarse voice could:

“Open up the door, I only wanna play…”

She walked past the alley as if she had heard nothing earlier, giving only the slightest side-glance into the dark.

Then her head snapped ninety degrees toward the inside. She stopped, calm, composed, and with a casual slide removed her headphones.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked.

Ava, noticing the shift in her demeanor, peeked over her shoulder—and her mask cracked. The smile she had on her face as if enjoying the immersive game experience twitched as her eyes sharpened, fury burning through.

“The first level, and you’re going all out, huh,” she whispered.

The scene inside the alley couldn’t be mistaken; not with all the signs you catch at first glance. The unmistakable evidence of a monster wearing human skin, taking liberties under the cover of the deep night.