Scenario 2
Luna, who had fully expected to wake up in a hospital bed—or, more likely, in the afterlife—stared at the bizarre situation unfolding before her.
The cramped elevator was filled with five people, including herself, all clad in identical bright pink hoodies.
Seriously, of all colors, why pink?
…That wasn't the important part. The important part was the holographic text hovering in front of her eyes—something no one else seemed to notice.
[Writing Prompt: You are in a typical awkward elevator ride with a group of other people, when suddenly a man says, "So, I bet you all know why we're gathered here," before hitting the emergency stop button.]
And even more disturbingly, the man who appeared to be the leader of this group had just done exactly what was written on the floating text.
It was a *writing prompt.*
Luna knew this with absolute certainty, though she had no idea how. It was as if the knowledge had been forcibly embedded in her mind—like someone had crammed a bunch of information into her brain all at once.
The supposed leader, a man with sharp sideburns, surveyed his hoodie-clad companions with a firm expression.
"We cannot fail this mission."
Luna: 'What mission?' #PikachuConfused.jpg
"We have to rescue the child from the enemy at all costs."
'What enemy?!'
Luna's lips parted instinctively, ready to ask a dozen questions, but forcibly held herself back. A strange, overwhelming sense of calm washed over her, suppressing the urge to panic.
Her rationality kicked in—a trait she had always displayed under extreme pressure.
If you don't understand something, stay silent.
Observe first. Analyze. Then speak.
Right now, she didn't know anything. And looking at the stiff tension in their postures, she had a sinking suspicion that revealing her ignorance would be a very bad idea.
These people were on edge. Their words alone—"We cannot fail this mission" and "There cannot be room for mistakes"—made it abundantly clear.
If they realized she was the mistake?
…She doubted she'd live long enough to correct it. A cold sweat trickled down Luna's back.
Of course, just because she was thinking logically didn't mean she wasn't scared. She was terrified.
Her current reality was utterly insane. She had been a perfectly normal corporate drone until a speeding car hit her and—what? Now she was part of some secret operation?
Where the hell was her hospital bed?! Where's Jesus? Where's Hades?
The so-called leader scanned the group. "Any questions?"
No one spoke.
Luna glued her lips shut.
The leader nodded in approval. With a sharp gesture, he signaled to the woman beside him.
She reached under her hoodie—
—and pulled out an entire arsenal of firearms.
Luna's brain short-circuited.
"How did she even hide that many guns under a hoodie that tight?!"
—Wait, wrong question. The correct question was: 'WHY THE FUCK DO THEY HAVE GUNS?!'
Before Luna could react, the woman handed her a weapon.
Luna swallowed, forcing herself to take it with steady hands.
Or, well, she tried. Her hands were shaking like hell.
The leader's expression remained serious. "Best of luck, everyone."
A soft *ding* echoed. The elevator doors slid open.
Without hesitation, the pink-hoodied crew sprinted out, taking a sharp left.
Luna?
Luna did a sharp right.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Whatever spy-movie, CIA-secret-task-force, world-saving operation they were running, she wanted no part of it.
She didn't care about their mission. She wasn't about to play hero. She wasn't some action-movie protagonist.
She was a fucking ex-corporate worker.
Luna mind constantly churned. Cursing and moaning at her fate.
…This feels like a movie.
Or rather—something close, but not quite.
That writing prompt she had seen? It wasn't just some hallucination.
Luna had actually been thrown into a story.
A ridiculous, life-threatening, high-stakes scenario straight out of fiction.
And that wasn't even the worst part.
Because somehow—some supernatural force had decided that from now on…
She was a streamer.
Not just any streamer. A multi-verse streamer.
A being—something beyond human understanding—had shoved this knowledge into her mind. Something about "collecting Energy Points" through streaming.
But the explanation had been utterly useless. She was left to figure out most of the details herself.
Honestly, if she could, she'd leave a negative review for this entire multi-verse streaming service.
Her assigned streaming genre?
"Writing prompts."
…She had to live through random writing prompts.
And then, somehow, attract "viewers" to earn Energy Points.
Luna let out a quiet, hysterical laugh.
*'Lena would have loved this.'*
Her best friend, Lena, had been obsessed with writing prompts. She asked Luna hypothetical scenarios every single day.
"Luna, what would you do if—?"
Luna used to roll her eyes and brush it off.
She never imagined she'd be forced to actually live through them.
And then, as if the universe wasn't done screwing with her, the holographic panel flickered again.
A new message appeared.
---
[Would Host 8899111@#$% like to preserve anything from her first streaming session?]
[If the Host chooses to preserve something, an equivalent penalty will be imposed.]
---
Luna stared at the screen.
"You are Host 8899111—whatever the hell those extra symbols are!"
She exhaled.
"Preserve, huh…?"
She was going to jump between worlds. Different stories. Different lives.
A terrifying thought struck her.
What if, one day, she forgot who she was?
What if she lived too many lives and lost herself?
Her grip on the gun tightened.
There was only one thing she absolutely, unquestionably wanted to keep amidst all else.
"Preserve my sense of self."
[Host 8899111@#$%'s sense of self preservation initializing…]
[Initialization successful.]
[…Penalty of preservation commencing…]
Luna exhaled slowly.
No matter what worlds she ended up in—
No matter what roles she was forced to play—
She would never forget who she was.
She had spent years painstakingly shaping herself. She was Luna.
And at the end of it all…
She would never have to ask—
"Who am I?"
Because it is her first time live-streaming, the chat function have not been opened yet. Honestly, even if it was available, Luna is not too keen on enabling the function.
Being a spectacle to some unknown entities, yeah, the feeling is not that good. An inexplicable discomfort arose at the thought of being an entertainment for others.
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