Part 7: How Do You Escape a Game With No Exit?

Connie lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She hadn't even changed out of her uniform yet. The exhaustion clung to her bones, but she didn't move.

Because she knew.

Knew that even if she closed her eyes, she wouldn't be able to sleep.

Her phone was still in her hand, the System's latest message burning into her vision.

[Death Flag Resolved. Points: 16.]

Sixteen.

That was how much her survival was worth now.

She didn't know what the points actually did.

She didn't know what the System wanted.

But she knew one thing for certain.

There was no way out.

There was no quitting this. No walking away.

The System only reset when it deemed it necessary.

And it only sent messages when she followed its expectations.

If she ignored death flags, it forced her to watch them happen over and over again until she solved them.

If she tried to change her daily routine too much, it adjusted reality to compensate.

She hadn't asked for this.

She hadn't wanted to be part of some twisted, invisible game.

And yet, here she was.

Trapped in a system with no exit.

If the System wanted her to play along, what would happen if she simply... didn't?

She needed to know.

Could she resist it? Could she choose not to act when the next death flag appeared?

She sat up slowly, tightening her grip on her phone.

She would find out.

The next time the System tried to push her into something, she would do nothing.

She wouldn't interfere.

She wouldn't react.

If the System really needed her to play, it would be forced to show its hand.

And then, maybe... she could figure out what kind of game this really was.

Morning came too fast.

Connie barely remembered falling asleep. Her body moved on autopilot, getting dressed, eating breakfast, walking out the door.

She didn't check her phone. She didn't think about the death flags.

She just... existed.

By the time she reached school, the idea of resisting felt easier than she thought.

Maybe—just maybe—she could pretend this was normal.

Maybe she could ignore the System and it would eventually leave her alone.

Maybe she—

Her body froze mid-step.

A wave of cold dread slammed into her like a brick wall.

She knew this feeling.

A death flag had triggered.

And this time—

It was far too close.

She was still standing in the hallway when she realized it.

The death flag was inside her classroom.

A strange sense of wrongness seeped into the air, like a subtle shift in gravity.

She clenched her fists.

This was it.

Her first real test.

What would happen if she ignored it?

She exhaled, forcing herself to walk in casually.

She wouldn't react.

She wouldn't play along.

She would simply sit down, pretend nothing was happening, and let the System deal with it on its own.

Her hands trembled slightly as she slid into her seat.

She didn't scan the room.

She didn't try to figure out who the flag was attached to.

She just waited.

Seconds passed.

Then minutes.

And yet, nothing happened.

Maybe she had been wrong.

Maybe the flag hadn't actually triggered.

Maybe—

A sharp, sickening crack filled the room.

Someone screamed.

Connie's head snapped up.

A student had collapsed onto the floor.

A boy.

Blood was pooling from his head.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

One of the ceiling fans had come loose.

It had fallen directly onto him.

Her stomach churned.

Her classmates were in a panic. Some were shouting for the teacher. Others rushed toward him.

But Connie already knew.

He was dead.

Her fingers dug into the desk.

The System had given her a chance to act.

She had refused.

And this was the result.

Then—

The world blinked.

Connie gasped as the timeline reset.

She was back in the hallway, just outside the classroom.

The moment before the flag had triggered.

Her heartbeat pounded violently in her chest.

She barely had time to process what had happened before her phone vibrated.

A new message.

[Non-Participation Detected.]

Her breath hitched.

Another message followed immediately after.

[1/3 Strikes]

A shudder ran through her.

Strikes..? What did that mean?

She didn't know. She had no way to.

Was the System going to punish her in some way?

If the System didn't even consider these hellish loops as punishment, who knows what kind of nightmarish things it would come up with as a penalty for not trying to resolve the death flags.

She had no choice but to act.

Her pulse roared.

The classroom door was still open.

Inside, her classmates were talking, laughing, completely unaware.

The boy who was about to die sat at his desk, tapping his pen against the table.

Her breathing became uneven.

She had seconds.

Seconds before the fan came loose again.

Her body moved on pure instinct.

She rushed inside, scanning the ceiling.

There—the bolts were loose.

The fan was already shaking slightly.

She had no tools, no way to fix it in time.

But—

She didn't need to fix it.

She just needed to change the outcome.

Her heart pounded as she made a snap decision.

She slammed her bag onto the boy's desk.

He flinched, startled. "What the hell—?"

"Move," she snapped, grabbing his wrist and yanking him out of his seat.

"Wha—?"

Then—

CRASH.

The fan slammed into his desk.

Right where he had been sitting.

Gasps filled the room.

Students stumbled back in shock.

The boy stared at the wreckage, his face pale. "What the—"

His hands shook. "I—That—That almost—"

A teacher rushed in at the sound, eyes widening at the mess. "What happened?!"

Connie didn't answer.

She barely felt present.

Her phone buzzed.

[Death Flag Resolved. Points: 19.]

Her fingers trembled as she read the words.

This was the first time the System had forced a reset against her will.

The first time it had given her a direct warning.

She had tried to walk away.

And the System had dragged her back anyway.

She swallowed hard.

This wasn't just a game she could choose not to play.

This was a contract.

And the moment she had gotten involved—

She had signed it without even knowing.

There was no escape.

Only moving forward.

Only surviving.

Again.

And again.

And again.