Level Complete!

Score: 73%

Rewards:

Lives carried over to the next level: ♥×2

Prize Wheel Spins× 3

The greyed-out moon on Ava’s panel flickered to life. She tapped it, and the prize wheel sprang up, divided into more than a dozen blurred slices, with the number 3 in the center.

With a deep breath, she tapped again. The wheel spun, whirring and clicking, slowing down as her heart raced. It stopped with a soft click, then a ding. One slice lit up.

The system announced in its irritating robotic voice, “Try again next time.”

“System, do you think it’s fair not to get anything after all the hard work I put into this level?!”

“You still have two more spins,” it replied.

“Oh really? Another two spins earned with my hard work, just like this wasted one. I’m warning you, if I don’t get anything next, I’m going to assume you are the problem, and I’ll find a way to report this to the game developers to make sure there’s another system with better qualities, and a better voice replacing you soon.”

Ava closed her eyes, letting the anticipation build as the system read the next outcome.

“One immunity card acquired. You can use this card to avoid being punished by the game after failing a level. You can now access your acquired cards through the card deck button appearing under the moon.”

Her lips curved into a wide grin. She tapped the card deck.

Immunity Card ×1

“Your voice doesn’t sound bad, as long as you say good things. Now keep up this performance and give me something big again.”

The third spin was nerve-wrackingly slow. Finally, the system announced, “One 10% Score Boost Card acquired. Use this card to raise your score before the level ends.”

10% Score Boost Card ×1

“Actually, you sound perfect. If I find a way to contact the game developers, I’m going to give you a high rating.”

“Player Ava, you can now exit the game. The next level will be in a week. The game panel will have a countdown timer. The same rules apply for the next level, and most importantly, the game is confidential. You are prohibited from mentioning it or talking about it.”

“Even if I meet another player?”

“Not possible. Players cannot meet until all levels are complete. Rest well until the next challenge.”

Ava blinked, her head throbbing as she slowly returned to reality. She remembered sitting on the bed with her bag before entering the game. How could she be lying down now? She shook her head. Maybe it’s the game’s way of preventing me from vanishing for too long, so it made me look like I was sleeping. But does that mean only my consciousness enters the game? That makes sense.

She reached for her phone. Only six hours had passed. Time in the game must flow differently from the real world.

Rubbing her temples, she got up and wandered to the kitchen to make breakfast. The smell of coffee and toast grounded her for a moment, a simple reminder that she was, at least physically, back in her house.

Carrying her tray upstairs to the balcony, she ran into her stepfather descending the stairs, casual but out of place.

“Morning,” they greeted each other coldly.

“Why is he home today?” she muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing. He was usually out with his friends at sunrise, never back until late afternoon. Is today the day he breaks his weekend routine of years? That’s definitely messing up my routine.

Settling into the chair, she watched the trees with singing birds as she ate. The morning air was crisp, stirring her hair as she sipped her coffee.

When she searched starry night game online, she found nothing, as expected. She did not even consider talking to anyone about it. She did not want to find out if there was punishment involved, or worse, end up in a mental hospital.

With less than a day left, she had already decided to prepare better this time. In addition to what she had taken before, she packed more clothes, food, and what she had forgotten last time, water.

Standing in front of a mirror, she stared at her bloodshot eyes. She had pulled another all-nighter, this time watching survival games. She leaned closer, studying her face, reading every detail again and again. Everything looked the same as usual. The same haggard, expressionless face stared back at her, pale and drawn, as if every sleepless night had carved deeper lines into her skin. Her cheeks were hollow, her lips dry, and the faint shadows under her eyes seemed to stretch endlessly, making her gaze look almost infinite, bottomless.

“Ah… I’m feeling dizzy,” she muttered. “I can’t even stand properly.”

Lying on the bed, she slipped almost immediately into dreamland. Her thoughts did not rest. Instead, they turned into questions, drifting past one after another, the same ones her mind had circled since leaving the game.

She found herself standing before a mirror again. Her reflection stared back, too clear, too aware.

“Would you do the same thing in the real world?” the Ava in the mirror asked. “What if you knew you would get hurt if you tried? What if you couldn’t handle it, and it only got worse?”

Ava said nothing. The questions pressed in, heavy and unforgiving. She searched herself for answers, but none came easily.

Would I pretend I saw nothing? she wondered. Would I turn away and run?

Her forehead nearly touched the glass. Would I be even slightly courageous, like Lily, and try, knowing it might cost me myself, or end up with both me and him facing a worse outcome?

The reflection did not press her further, as if it were there only to make her face the fears she kept buried deep inside.

If I leave someone helpless, drowning in despair, knowing I could have tried to lend a hand, where does that leave me? And would I go even further, becoming the one who makes them helpless, just to avoid the least possibility of ever ending up in their position?

The thought lingered, heavy and suffocating. She felt it wrap around her chest, tightening with every breath. There was no easy answer, no clear line separating self preservation from cruelty. Somewhere between the two, she knew, was a point she might cross without realizing it.

In the mirror, her reflection remained silent, its eyes steady, unblinking. It did not accuse her. It did not absolve her. It only reflected what already existed inside her.

Maybe survival was not just about staying alive. Maybe it was about deciding what parts of herself she was willing to lose along the way. And if the game demanded a choice, one that forced her to weigh her own safety against another person’s ruin, she feared the answer would come more easily than she wanted to admit.

The room faded, the mirror dissolving into darkness as deep sleep pulled her under once more. The questions stayed, sinking deeper, waiting for the next level to demand them back.