Rain glazed the streets of Kuro City, turning traffic lights into red and green smears on the wet asphalt. Umbrellas bobbed like restless beetles across the crosswalk, and neon signs buzzed sleepily in convenience store windows.
Seventeen-year-old Noah Imai sat slouched behind the counter of Shino's 24, a corner shop that never closed, never changed, and never gave anyone a reason to stay longer than they needed to.
It was 2:03 a.m.
Noah flicked through his phone with one hand, the other resting near the silent cash register. There hadn't been a customer in over an hour, not since the old man with the limp came in to buy two cans of cat food and a cigarette lighter.
"Shouldn't even be awake," Noah muttered, yawning.
He had school in five hours. Not that it mattered. Grades were slipping, his mother barely spoke since the hospital bills began piling up, and his father—well, he was long gone. Noah worked nights for a paycheck that barely qualified as survival. But it kept the lights on, for now.
A sound crackled through the shop.
The overhead intercom, dusty and unused since before Noah was hired, let out a short pop, followed by a tone like a dial-up modem choking on static.
Noah blinked. "What the hell…?"
The sound stopped.
Silence returned. The kind of silence that hummed under the skin. Like something was watching. Waiting.
He glanced outside. The rain had stopped without him noticing. No cars. No pedestrians. Even the crosswalk light was frozen mid-blink, stuck on red.
He checked his phone. The screen was black.
No—not black. Blank. The time, battery, and apps were gone, leaving only a faint white dot in the center. He tapped it.
Nothing happened.
He looked up at the security monitor mounted in the corner. The camera feed showed the store from above—the aisle of snacks, the freezer wall, the doorway. But something was off.
He wasn't in it.
Noah stared at the monitor. The counter was empty. No sign of him. No movement.
He turned around and waved his arm.
Still nothing on the screen.
"Nope. Nope, I'm not doing this." He grabbed his coat and moved around the counter, heading for the door.
It wouldn't open.
He tugged harder.
Still nothing.
Then—
The lights went out.
For one breathless second, everything disappeared into pitch black. Not just darkness—but absence, like reality had blinked.
When the lights snapped back on, the store looked exactly the same.
Except… the clock on the register read 3:04 a.m.
A full hour had vanished.
Noah's heart was pounding. He fumbled for the landline.
Dead.
He turned to the windows—and froze.
Outside, the world had changed.
No more city.
No more rain.
No more streets.
Just fog, dense and pressing, like a wall. Shapes moved in it—tall, wrong-shaped figures with too many joints. Slowly circling the store. Watching.
And on the glass, written in something red and dripping:
"WELCOME TO THE GAME."