The Game

"Darren, how did it go? Did the investor agree?" Darren closed the front door of his house with a tired sigh. His mother's voice immediately pierced through the silence before he could even take off his shoes.

"Failed again?" Darren gave a small nod. He didn't even have the energy to explain.

His mother clicked her tongue. "That's the third one, right? Do you think the fourth will magically say yes?"

Darren took a deep breath. "I'm trying, Ma."

"Trying?" Her voice rose. "Trying won't put food on the table. Trying doesn't pay the bills."

He clenched his jaw. "It's not about money right now. It's about building something. A future."

"Future?" She scoffed. "What kind of future? Living in a dream while reality knocks on the door? You're 23, Darren. People your age already have jobs, insurance, savings!"

"I don't want to live just to survive," Darren snapped before he could stop himself. "I want to do something that matters."

Silence fell like a stone.

His mother's voice dropped—quieter, but sharper. "So your mother, who worked three jobs to raise you, didn't matter?"

Darren's throat tightened. Guilt and frustration burned in his chest like fire and ice.

"That's not what I meant," he said quietly.

"Then what do you mean, Darren?" She took a step back, arms crossed. "Because all I see is my son chasing a fantasy while the rest of us live in the real world."

He didn't reply. Instead, he turned and walked to his room, letting the door close behind him and muffling the sting of her words.

Inside, his room felt like a different world. Small, quiet, and—most importantly—his. A place where the constant judgment couldn't reach him.

A knock on the door made Darren glance over. His mother was standing there, hand on the knob.

"There's something from Richard on the table." She left without waiting for a reply.

Darren's gaze shifted to the small box on his desk. He walked over, pulled out his chair, and sat down.

Inside was a flash drive—something Richard had mentioned before. Darren took his phone from his shirt pocket and called him. Leaning back, he powered up his laptop with the top-right button on the keyboard.

"This is the flash drive you mentioned?" Darren asked once Richard picked up.

"Oh, you opened it? Try installing it. I just finished the game yesterday," Richard replied.

"I might give it a try. Still job hunting anyway."

"Go for it. Should help kill your boredom." Darren plugged in the flash drive. Usually, Richard would just recommend a site or send a link—this was the first time he had sent physical data.

"Did the game developers purposely make this game unavailable to the public?"

"They're having server issues, so they're limiting access. I might suggest they increase server capacity for a full launch." The game was now fully installed. Darren glanced at the wall clock—it was 4 PM. Still time before dinner.

"I've installed it. I'll try it out for a bit," he said before ending the call. Darren double-clicked the icon and stared at the game's title screen.

The Prince Builds a Country From Scratch

"Wait, I have to build a country? From the beginning?" Darren muttered as the game loaded.

Suddenly, a loud thump struck his head, dizzying him. It felt like something heavy had hit him square on the skull. His vision spun. His limbs wouldn't move.

Darkness swallowed everything. The laptop screen faded from sight. Darren panicked, but his body wouldn't respond.

"What the hell is this?!"

"Help…"

A faint voice tugged at Darren's consciousness.

"Help…"

He could feel his eyes adjusting. First came darkness. Then light.

A clear blue sky appeared, cotton clouds drifting lazily above. He couldn't move freely—his hands and feet were tied.

Grass tickled his skin. His hands were bound tightly with rope.

With effort, he sat up. Lush green grass stretched endlessly around him, waist-high and swaying in the breeze. No houses. No roads. No people.

"Is anyone here?!" Darren shouted.

"Your Highness!" someone called out, though he saw no one. "We're here!"

"Who is that?!" Darren struggled with his tied hands. The rope resisted, but he managed to loosen it.

"Prince Darren! Everyone's dead now!"

His mind spun. Prince? What? Dead?

The last thing he remembered was calling Richard… then starting the game…

He worked on the rope around his legs. It was tighter, more stubborn—but eventually, it gave way.

"How many people are still alive?!" he shouted.

"Two more, Your Highness!"

Darren scanned the vast field. Forest behind him, mountains ahead. No signs of civilization.

"Hey? Where is everyone?!"

"Prince Darren!" The voice came from his right. He moved quickly, pushing through the grass, not caring about hidden dangers.

Then he froze.

Bodies. Others like him—tied, unconscious, unmoving. All except one person far at the end, weakly trying to sit up.

Darren's chest tightened. He wasn't alone here. But whatever place this was, one thing was clear—

He was no longer in his world.