The night didn't fall the way Aria hoped. No dreams, no peace. Just silence.
She lay in the grand bed that didn't feel like hers, in a world that shouldn't be real, wrapped in sheets too soft for the weight in her chest. She wasn't Aria, not really. She was just a burned-out office worker, dumped and bitter, who found a cruel kind of comfort in a game called Survive Till Dawn.
The cruel part?
The character named Aria always died. No matter what she tried. Poison. Fire. A fall from the tower. Each attempt was a desperate sprint to find an answer. But there was none.
Until now.
Until she woke up inside the game.
She closed her eyes—and was pulled into the void.
There was no floor beneath her, no stars above, only a cold vacuum of light and silence. Then, in the corner of her vision, something shimmered. A boy? A blur? A god?
Same figure from before.
The voice that followed was sweet and young, almost amused.
"I made a mistake…"
Aria stiffened. "What did you do? Why am I still here? Can I go back?!"
"Woooh, calm down…" the voice said. Casual. Mocking.
Her fists clenched. "You stupid system! How dare you tell me to calm down—I'll kill you!"
The boy-shaped glitch laughed, kicking his legs like a child dangling off a swing.
"You're so dramatic. You're just a soul now. What's a soul gonna do? Stab me with emotion?"
He rolled his glowing eyes. "Fine. Stay stuck here forever."
He pouted. Actually pouted.
Aria exhaled hard. "Okay, fine. Just—tell me. How can I go back?"
The boy tilted his head. A moment of silence.
"Maaaaybe… if you die again, I can move your soul."
His tone was light, evasive. It didn't sit right.
"You think?" she repeated. "So if I die, I'll go back for sure?"
"Mmhm," he hummed, giving neither a yes nor no.
"Then… what's this power I have? The golden aura. That's not part of the game."
The boy shrugged too quickly.
"Just… a little bonus. Compensation. Don't tell anyone."
Another lie. Aria didn't need a system prompt to feel it.
She narrowed her eyes. "So I'm stuck here. You gave me unstable power. And the only way out is dying—again?"
"You humans are so greedy," he huffed. "I gave you so much. And now you want a refund? Ugh. I'm done. I'll talk to you soon."
His form fizzled—light breaking apart like shattered glass. The void collapsed around her.
Aria's eyes flew open.
Sunlight spilled across the room. Morning had come.
The bed felt colder than before.
She sat up slowly, her hands trembling against the sheets. That conversation—was it real? Her palms still bore faint scorch marks from the reset.
"Die again," he said.
"Then I'll move your soul."
Could she even trust that?
Her legs swung off the bed. She stood, walking to the mirror.
Same face. Same golden shimmer just beneath her skin.
"Fine," she whispered to her reflection. "Let's find a way to kill myself."
She slipped through the manor in silence. No guards stopped her. No servants noticed her intent.
But something else did.
A faint hum beneath her feet. A presence, watching.
When she stepped out into the hallway, her foot hovered over the top stair for just a moment too long.
One fall. That's all it would take.
But then—her aura flickered. Her chest constricted. A sharp buzz in her ears.
[SYSTEM WARNING: Unauthorized Intent Detected]
[Soul Lock Active – Lethal Action Denied]
She gasped, stumbling backward.
It knew.
Her body wasn't hers. Her death wasn't hers. Not anymore.
The power she carried—it wouldn't let her die. Not on her terms.
Later, as she sat in the quiet of her room, something scraped against the windowpane.
Aria turned, heart skipping.
Outside, shrouded in morning mist, a faint silhouette stood just beyond the frost-glazed glass.
It wasn't the Young God. This figure was too tall. Too still.
A flash of silver glinted at its hip—a dagger, engraved with the shape of a coiled serpent.
Her breath caught. That emblem… it was the same one worn by the poisoner during the celebration.
But before she could move, the figure vanished—melted into fog like a bad memory.
Her golden aura pulsed, unprovoked. Pain lanced through her palms. The light recoiled sharply, as if warning her.
Not of Y.G.
Of something else.
Then came the voice—garbled, fractured through static.
[SYSTEM WARNING: Temporal Interference Detected]
[Y.G. NOTICE: Interference not caused by me. Stay quiet. Trust no one.]