introduction

Every story has its heroes. But this one... this one is about something far more complex. It's about trauma, decisions, friendship, and chaos.

Let's begin with a glimpse into the lives of five individuals—five teenagers, each brilliant and broken in their own ways.

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Character Introduction

Kashimo – A 15-year-old prodigy. Whether it's games, academics, logic, or strategy, he's a natural. People admire him. But beneath his genius lies a vulnerability—he can be emotionally manipulated with ease. He doesn't always see through deceit, and that often places him at risk.

Kaguro – A sharp 14-year-and-6-month-old mind. Academically strong, but that's just the surface. Kaguro is a master manipulator, perhaps too sharp for his own good. His decisions are fast, almost automatic. He overthinks everything and finds it hard to shut off his brain. He's the type of person who can trap someone in their own thoughts... but he too has his blind spots.

Bachi – 14 years and 7 months old. Possibly the most dangerous in conversation. He's an even better manipulator than Kaguro, but lacks the same sharpness in IQ and combat ability. He's a smooth talker, charismatic, and calm in chaos. But when tested beyond the mental games, he can crack under physical or emotional pressure.

Kamiko – At 14 years and 9 months, Kamiko is the fighter of the group. His gaming skills outmatch even Kashimo's, and his battle instincts are strong. He's a mix of all three: Kashimo's intellect, Kaguro's calculation, and Bachi's manipulation—but in smaller doses. He's dependable, yet unpredictable. A silent storm.

Alan – A foreign student who arrived in Japan due to the dictatorship in his homeland. He's 15, but unlike the others, Alan is average in everything—games, scores, and IQ. His strength lies not in talent, but in surviving despite all odds. His story isn't about brilliance, but about endurance.

All five had just completed their 9th grade. They had celebrated their results together, sharing screenshots, reactions, and GIFs in their Telegram group chat.

Here were their scores:

Kaguro: 92.7%

Bachi: 92%

Kashimo: 90%

Kamiko: 89.8%

Alan: 76%

They were proud. More than anything, they were relieved.

Their friendship was tight, built not just on shared laughter, but on shared pain too. They had a Telegram group where they discussed everything—from daily school chaos to existential questions. One evening, a message popped up.

Telegram Group Chat

Bachi: yo gang how is it going?

Kaguro: good bro! How about you?

Bachi: good + congrats btw.

Alan: congrats bro.

Kaguro: congrats to all of you guys. Bachi, you did incredibly well.

Kamiko: are you forgetting me too?

Kashimo: yeah and what about me?

Kaguro: didn't I just say congrats to y'all 😑

Bachi: hey Kamiko and Kashimo, how you doing?

Alan: I'm feeling depressed and sad.

Kamiko: why?

Kashimo: how come?

Kaguro: what happened?

Bachi: hmm but why tho?

Alan: let's meet at my house... please.

They didn't ask further. That message hit differently. When someone like Alan—who usually masked things with humor or silence—asked to meet, it wasn't just casual. The four boys—Kashimo, Kaguro, Kamiko, and Bachi—agreed without question.

At Alan's House

They arrived together, expecting perhaps to talk him through a bad day. But nothing could prepare them for what they saw.

Alan's house was modest, dimly lit, with faded walls and a quiet eeriness in the air. His mother welcomed them in with a strange half-smile—more like a smirk.

Then, they stepped into Alan's room.

Everyone froze.

There were blood splatters on the floor, faint but fresh. Some were on the white bedsheet, some near the desk, and—most shockingly—on Alan's laptop.

The room itself was simple: a single bed tucked in the corner, a study table cluttered with books—Maths, English, History, Physics, and Chemistry. His Intel laptop sat open on the desk, with the screen displaying a black background and red text:

> "ARE YOU READY FOR THE TORTURE?"

Kamiko took a step back, his breath caught in his throat.

Bachi clenched his fists, scanning every inch of the room.

Kashimo moved forward slowly, inspecting the laptop screen. His mind raced with questions.

Kaguro's eyes darted from the screen to the floor, calculating—trying to understand what they were seeing.

Then they saw him.

Alan was lying on the ground, unconscious—or worse. His hand was loosely curled near his face, and beside it lay his phone, its screen still on.

Bachi rushed to his side, checking for a pulse.

Kashimo grabbed a tissue from the desk, wiping a bit of blood from Alan's cheek to examine it. "He's breathing," he said, relieved. "But it's shallow."

Kamiko stood guard near the door, his instincts telling him they weren't safe.

Kaguro stared at Alan's mother, who stood by the hallway with that same smirk, silently watching them.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?" Kamiko asked.

"She doesn't seem concerned," Kaguro whispered back.

"What happened here?" Bachi asked, still on the floor beside Alan.

Alan's mother didn't respond. She turned around and walked back into the hallway, humming something softly.

It chilled them to the bone.

"Something is very wrong here," Kashimo muttered.

"I agree," said Kaguro. "We need to take Alan out of here. Now."

"But we don't even know what happened—" Kamiko started.

"I don't care," Bachi cut in. "We're leaving. Grab his phone. Help me lift him."

As the four struggled to lift their friend, the laptop screen glitched. For a split second, it showed a red symbol—an ancient one none of them recognized. Then it turned off.

They didn't speak. They didn't want to.

With Alan half-conscious, they exited the house without another word to his mother, who was now sitting at the kitchen table, eerily still.

End of Chapter 1

What began as a congratulatory visit to a friend had now turned into the first ripple in a series of horrifying events. A hidden message, a bloody room, a cryptic warning, and a mystery that would soon spiral into something far bigger.

Their friendship would be tested.

Their minds would be broken.

And the truth... would be far worse than fiction.