After the Game

Where am I? What… happened to me?

I stood in a strange place — a perfect white square of a room, so small I needed only two steps to reach the opposite wall. Everything felt... wrong.

What is this place?

Something gnawed at me. A hollow unease pulsed through my chest.

The end of the game…? Is it over?

My memory was a foggy mess. I couldn't recall how I had passed the trial.

But… someone helped me. I'm sure of it.

I looked down at myself.

My body—intact. No wounds, no blood.

My clothes—still the same orange outfit from the game, but spotless, freshly pressed, as if I'd never touched the ground. Even the faint scent of new fabric lingered.

If I'm still wearing this…

Then it's not over. Is it?

"Congratulations on completing the level!"

A voice rang out, cheerful and energetic—playful. It echoed through the emptiness.

"Who are you?" I called out, trying to locate the voice.

No answer.

"What am I doing here?" I continued, my voice firm.

Then something shimmered before me—a system window, blue, with strange, unreadable symbols dancing across it like flickering code.

I blinked.

Gradually, the words changed and acquired letters familiar to me.

A message appeared on the screen, in black, written in a nice font.

Completed: 1/100.

My eyes locked onto the words, refusing to look away.

No. This can't be real.

A cold spike of panic shot through me. The feeling of unreality intensified; my heart raced, I broke out in a cold sweat, and I felt short of breath.

One out of a hundred?

That's… just the beginning.

I swallowed hard, bitterness rising like poison.

Ninety-nine more levels, games, challenges.

I wanted to scream. To throw something. To run.

But all I could do was stand frozen, the weight of endless struggle pressing down like a stone on my chest.

Thinking about everything I had been through and the future that awaited me... the floor vanished beneath my feet.

I was falling. But I didn't scream.

My body reacted calmly. Too calmly.

As I plunged downward, I saw countless images passing me by.

Each one unique.

A massive robot, straight out of a mecha anime.

A fantastical beast that looked like a phoenix mid-flight.

A lone mage standing on a cliff, staff raised toward the sky.

The images moved — or maybe it only seemed that way because I was falling headfirst.

Then I looked down. There was light. Warm, golden.

In a moment I was right in front of him.

Huh...

My body shot upright.

I was lying in a bed. Sheets crumpled under my fingers as I gripped them reflexively.

The sensation felt… real. Normal.

I returned? Back to my world?

The clothes on me — the same outfit I wore in the waiting room of the game.

I reached for my phone. Turned it on.

Friday. 20:09:46.

I had no idea when I fell asleep… or how long I'd been gone.

But time. Time must be distorted.

On the phone screen are dozens of messages and over fifty missed calls from my parents.

They're worried. I need to dial, I hope everything is fine with them.

I tapped the call button for "Mom."

She answered immediately.

"Hello?!"

Her voice was shaky, urgent.

"It's me."

"Where are you?! Are you okay?! Do you even know what's happening in the world?!"

"No," I answered calmly. "I was… taking a shower."

There was a pause.

"Oh, thank God. I thought something happened to you."

"But your father and I—we texted you, called you dozens of times. Why didn't you respond?! Why are you always so inattentive?!"

I stayed silent for a moment.

Better not to tell them. They don't need to worry about me. I love them.

"Sorry," I replied. "I didn't notice the messages. What's going on? I'll check the news... but I'd rather hear it from you, if you have a minute."

She sighed.

"Okay. More than five billion people suddenly lost consciousness nine minutes ago. All at once. I wasn't one of them."

Nine minutes? Did it all start at eight in the evening?

I was in that world for about three hours.

"Got it... What about Dad?" I asked.

"He's fine. He stayed conscious too. We both kept calling you nonstop. We thought we'd have to break down your door."

"Thanks for caring. I really am okay. Can you give him a call? Tell him not to do anything reckless."

"Alright. But seriously — what's going on in the world?"

I stared at the screen.

Suddenly, images flashed through my mind… from my arrival in the endless expanse to the fierce battle with the cat.

"I wish I knew," I muttered.

"Take care."

"And you too. Say hi to Dad for me."

The call ended, but I felt terrible — for not telling her everything.

I got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. After dousing my face with cold water, I tried to steady myself and focus.

Looking into the mirror, I see my face. Naturally pale, with bags under gray eyes, and black hair.

Mom didn't mention anything about deaths.

Maybe everyone who died there… will only truly die after the game ends?

After going out into the hallway, I immediately returned to my room. I sat on the bed, picked up my phone, and searched the internet.

I wasn't the first to wake up, but the difference between my waking and theirs wasn't enough time to alert the media.

The internet was flooded with videos — images of people collapsing, unconscious in public places.

If time is distorted, then soon there'll be news about people… dying.

Suddenly, a system window appeared before my eyes. It showed a new message, different from the previous one.

Monday 20:00:00

Is this the date and time of the next game?

If the message appeared… does that mean the first round is officially over?

The message disappeared.

Where did it go?

As soon as I thought about it, it appeared before me again, then vanished after a few seconds.

So, I just need to think about it.

I returned to the laptop on my desk, sat down in the chair, and refreshed the news page.

One of the top posts caught my attention. It claimed that many people had died shortly after losing consciousness. The bodies showed no signs of external trauma.

According to some early theories, their brains and internal organs simply… shut down.

What kind of nightmare is this?

After reading the news, I closed the site, shut down the laptop. Got up from the chair and lay down on the bed.

Three days from now… Will I have to go through all of it again?

It doesn't matter... The only thing I want right now is to sleep.

My body was full of energy, but my mind was exhausted.

My eyes slowly closed... and I fell asleep.

Waking up, I felt a bit uplifted. The day began with a simple thought: I survived.

I got up and put on a green T-shirt and sweatpants. Around the apartment, I preferred to walk barefoot.

Heading to the kitchen, I made myself an omelet with sausages.

The food felt like it stuck in my throat, but I forced myself to eat it. This wasn't the time to be picky.

My phone was always nearby, but I didn't want to check the news or social media. I didn't want to see anything about it.

Will I be in danger on Monday? If so, maybe I should rest while I can.

The weekend stretched out before me like a silent countdown.

Saturday came, slow and empty. I tried to distract myself—read, watch shows, even go for a walk—but the shadow of what was coming never left my mind. Every tick of the clock reminded me: the game wasn't over. Not even close.

On Sunday, anxiety settled even deeper. Sleep was restless, thoughts swirling like a storm. I kept my phone close but avoided the news, not ready to face more grim reports.

How many people will die this time? How far will this game push us? What will become of society?

Monday arrived too fast. The sun had barely risen before my heart started racing, as if it sensed the danger lurking just hours away. I ate with little appetite, and tried to steel myself for what might come next.

I changed into the comfortable clothes I wore on Saturday and lay down on the bed.

Every shadow felt amplified. The world outside my apartment seemed too indifferent.

And then... I found myself back in an unknown place.