Year 2025.
A peculiar world—overrun by social media, plagued by brainrot, torn apart by politics, and crawling with influencers.
It used to be peaceful.
Everything functioned as it should. Everything was normal. Or at least, it seemed to be.
I woke up.
I yawned, stretched, sat on the edge of my bed, and stared out the window like I always did. Like it was just another day.
Everything was supposed to be fine.
Everything was supposed to be calm.
So why...
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?"
The scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. My hands flew to cover my mouth as if to shove the sound back in. I trembled—cold and sweating, my breath shallow, my body frozen stiff as my eyes locked onto the impossible, grotesque sight.
My voice failed. My legs wouldn't move.
I could only stand there, staring at the horror beyond the glass.
The sky was gone.
Replaced by something vile—an abomination of flesh hovering above the clouds. Its surface was riddled with an uncountable number of eyes, all staring down hungrily. Massive tentacles, thicker than skyscrapers, writhed in silence. And teeth...
So many teeth.
The world had stopped.
Not a sound. Not a whisper.
But the silence is deafening
Old people, mothers, fathers, children—all frozen.
Maybe they didn't know what was happening. But their bodies did.
A primal scream echoed through our nerves:
"Don't move. Not yet."
That thing in the sky…
It didn't attack. It just loomed. Watching. Covering the sun in a curtain of rotten flesh.
And yet—there was the moon.
Suspended unnaturally, clutched in the tendrils like a fragile ornament.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer:
The tentacles are bigger than the moon.
The flesh covers the whole damn planet.
Then, out of nowhere, something flickered in the corner of my vision:
> [ System Window ]
Are you ready?
(Yes) (Yes)
Two options. Both the same. No way out.
My name is Zeor Takakuri.
But before we continue with the end of the world, let me show you how it all began—
Three days ago.
[ The Moment I Woke Up – 3 Days Before ]
I was playing a game.
An RPG with endless possibilities—at least, that's what they said.
"I'm bored," I muttered, dropping my controller after finally killing the last boss. Of course, I didn't do it alone.
"So this is it, huh?"
Seven years.
I'd been grinding this game since 2018. It was famous for its brutal difficulty—an MMORPG where everyone raided together.
But the problem? It was too hard.
Each dungeon had levels.
Start at Level 1, enemies go from 1 to 20. Final boss? Should be 25, right?
Nope. Try Level 50.
Leveling was slow as hell. No shortcuts, no pay-to-win—just endless grinding and cold, bitter trading.
A hundred stages.
Hundreds of bosses.
And slowly, players gave up. Left. Vanished.
But not us.
We beat it. We did the impossible.
After seven years.
...But now what?
I leaned back in my gaming chair, the controller slipping from my fingers. My teammates' voices blurred into static. All I could do was stare at the screen:
[ You've beaten The Recollection ]
[ Congratulations ]
That was it.
No ending cutscene. No fireworks. No fanfare.
Just those two sentences.
"Ironic," I whispered.
I sighed, heavy like I'd finally dropped a weight I'd carried for years. Then I turned on voice chat.
"WHAT!? THAT'S IT?"
"THE FUCK IS THIS?! WHERE'S THE REST?"
"IS THIS... the actual end?"
Silence followed.
Then I spoke.
"...So it's over. No more secret hunts. No more enhancing gear against impossible odds. No more..."
No more dopamine.
No more obsession.
No more purpose.
I logged out. Closed the chat. Removed my headset.
I stood up, legs shaky—probably the anemia again. I stared at the floor, grounding myself, then turned to the window beside my bed. The sun painted everything gold. The city below shimmered.
A beautiful day.
A new beginning.
I pulled the curtains wide, opened the window, and breathed in the stale, familiar air.
It didn't smell nice.
But it smelled like home.
And sometimes, that's all that matters. At least for now
I gathered my thoughts, dusted myself off, and adjusted the sleeves of my plain black hoodie. The fabric clung stiffly to me, like it had forgotten what sunlight felt like. With a quiet breath, I stepped out the front door.
First time in two years.
"The trauma really got me, huh?" I muttered with a bitter laugh—an inside joke meant for no one but myself.
Hands tucked into my pockets, I walked.
No map. No direction.
Just wandering through the quiet, familiar suburbs, pretending I was a different version of myself.
Not broken. Not stuck in the past.
Because unlike that game...
This story's still going.
And maybe—just maybe—I can keep writing it.
The bell chimed softly as I stepped into a random café. It smelled of roasted beans and quiet conversation. I ordered a plain black coffee, nothing fancy. Just... routine.
But what I got was something else entirely.
A latte, rich and warm, topped with a careful swirl of art.
I blinked.
"I didn't sign up for this," I whispered to myself, cradling the cup, "but I guess they hated my bland taste and gave me something better."
I took a sip.
And it was good—too good.
Sweet, rich, smooth. Real.
Something I hadn't tasted in a long, long time.
I sighed, quietly, and felt a breath of life crawl back into my chest.
"I really missed out on a lot."
I finished the drink, walked up to the counter, and tipped the barista. Three times what I'd paid. It just felt right.
But as I turned to leave, her voice called out behind me.
"Wait!"
I stopped. Turned. She was running toward me, her cheeks red like she'd just stepped out of a manga. Nervous. Flushed.
"Thank you," she said, smiling.
I smiled back, surprised at how easily it came. "I should be the one thanking you. That coffee was incredible."
I turned to leave again, but then—
A tug at my hoodie.
I looked back.
She stood there, fidgeting with her phone, looking like she was trying to breathe through an earthquake.
"I–I–I..."
She paused. Steeled herself.
"I want to be friends with you! Can I have your number?!"
She blurted it out, all at once—awkward, nervous, real.
I blinked.
My heart skipped.
Then I looked at her… then at her phone… then back again.
Was this really happening?
My cheeks flushed, my hands trembling slightly as I took the phone. I typed in my number, trying to play it cool.
"Sure... why not?" I said casually.
But to her, I might as well have been a scene straight out of a shojo anime.
She took the phone back with a bright, brilliant smile. Her face was pink all over as she turned and walked away—clutching the phone like it held the moon.
Before she disappeared out the door, she looked back one last time.
"Come back tomorrow, okay?"
I nodded. "Sure."
Then I turned and walked away, stealing one last glance over my shoulder.
Once I was far enough, I stopped.
Clutched my chest.
Hyperventilated.
"What the hell just happened...?" I gasped.
My heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out.
"It all happened so fast—!"
As I calmed down—my breathing finally steady—I fixed myself up and made my way home.
The moment I stepped inside, the quiet warmth of the place embraced me. My house—this small, silent shelter that had guarded me through years of fear and isolation. It wasn't perfect. The walls were a little cracked, the lights flickered if I used the microwave and the kettle at the same time—but it was mine.
It was cozy. It was safe.
I collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, letting my eyes close for a moment.
Then—ring.
A sharp sound pierced the stillness. Not the Discord call tone I was used to hearing from my gaming teammates—this was different. Sharper. Real.
My phone lit up.
"Huh...? I haven't heard this ringtone in two years..."
I glanced at the caller ID. My eyes widened.
Tohru Yanemi.
"...Cute," I whispered, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Just like that anime."
I hesitated for a second before answering. My thumb hovered over the green button longer than it should have. Then—click.
"Uh... hello?"
Her voice came through, soft and awkward but bright.
> "H-Hi! I—I hope I'm not bothering you or anything... I just... uh... I wasn't sure if I should call or just wait or maybe text instead but... yeah. I'm calling! Sorry if it's weird."
I blinked. Her voice was a little shaky, but it had that kind of nervous charm that made it impossible not to listen.
"Nah. It's okay," I said, settling into the couch. "It's kind of nice, actually. Unexpected, but... not bad."
> "Oh, that's good! I didn't want to seem like a stalker or anything, I swear! I just... I was thinking about that coffee moment and, well, it felt like a movie scene or something, y'know?"
I chuckled. "Yeah... it kind of did."
> "I mean, the way you said 'Sure, why not'—I swear you sounded like the main character in a drama. I almost thought you'd vanish into thin air or something."
"You're exaggerating. I was just trying not to panic and pass out right there."
She giggled, and for a second I felt like I could see her: curled up on her bed, legs kicking in the air, pillow against her chest like she was trying to smother her excitement.
> "So... um... what's your story?" she asked suddenly, catching me off guard. "I mean, you kind of give off this... mysterious loner vibe, but not in a bad way. More like... someone with a lot on their mind."
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"My story, huh?"
I paused.
"Bit complicated. Let's just say... I've been on a long side quest. One that took me out of the real world for a while."
> "A gamer metaphor? I respect that," she said playfully. "But... hey, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm a pretty good listener. Even if I ramble a lot... and interrupt... and sometimes overshare. But I promise, I try."
I smiled, the weight in my chest feeling just a little lighter.
"Noted. I'll keep that in mind."
There was a short silence on the line, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
> "Anyway... I was wondering if... you'd maybe want to come back to the café sometime this week? I work there most afternoons. And I don't always mess up people's coffee orders—I swear, that was just a gut instinct thing."
I chuckled. "Your 'gut instinct' made my day, so I'm not complaining."
> "Then... is that a yes?" Her voice was soft, hopeful.
I hesitated, but just for a moment.
"Yeah. I'll be there."
> "Great! I'll save a seat. Maybe I'll mess up your order again, who knows~"
We both laughed. A little awkward. A little honest.
After we hung up, I stared at the phone in my hand for a moment.
Tohru Yanemi.
I whispered the name again. It echoed in the quiet of my house, strange and warm.
Th next day... I'll be waiting