The rain hadn't stopped for days.
It beat against the rusted tin roof like a ticking clock, each drop echoing through the silence of Kim Hyun's one-room apartment. The walls were cracked and damp, wallpaper peeling like a wound left to rot. A single lightbulb flickered above, casting shadows that danced across the stained floor.
Kim Hyun sat hunched on a threadbare mattress shoved into the corner, legs pulled close to his chest, hoodie zipped up to his chin. His dark hair hung low over tired eyes that hadn't slept in two nights. A worn notebook lay beside him, filled with job applications he never sent. Each page was marked by smudged ink, shaky handwriting, and the quiet desperation of a man running out of options.
The power cut out again.
Hyun didn't flinch.
The world had been dark for him long before the lights went out.
Three months ago, he had a job—
Nothing glamorous, just night shifts at a logistics warehouse. Minimum wage. Backbreaking. But it paid enough for rice, rent, and the pills his younger brother needed for his heart condition.
Then came the accident.
A faulty machine. A crushed hand. The company denied responsibility, claimed "negligence." No insurance. No compensation. Just a termination notice and a medical bill he couldn't afford.
His brother was taken off treatment a week later.
Now the boy lay in a government hospital, barely conscious. Hyun visited him every other day, sneaking in leftover soup, whispering stories into his ears like they were kids again—like words could keep him alive.
But even stories were running out.
---
The wind howled through the cracked windowpane.
Hyun's phone buzzed once, then died. No charge left.
He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the last thing he had: a folded bus ticket he never used. It was supposed to take him away from this place. Somewhere new. Somewhere quiet. But in the end, even escape cost too much.
He placed the ticket on the floor like an offering and stared at it, as if it might answer back.
That's when the phone lit up again.
Flickered.
Then turned on — full battery, glowing bright.
Hyun stared, heart pounding. He hadn't plugged it in.
No charger. No power.
The screen displayed a message.
> "Welcome to Eden's Gate."
"This is your chance. Win ten million. No rules but one: play until the end."
[Accept] [Decline]
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes.
No sender ID. No icon. No app. It wasn't a text. Wasn't an ad. Just floating letters on a black screen.
A joke?
Maybe.
A trap?
Probably.
But when your brother is dying, your world is crumbling, and you've already lost everything—
Even a trap can feel like hope.
Hyun's finger hovered over the glowing [Accept] button.
His throat was dry.
His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.
"…What else is there to lose?"
He pressed it.
The phone turned white.
Then black.
Then—
Nothing.
----------------------------
The city was alive.
Not with joy, or purpose—
But with a kind of restless, mechanical pulse. Like something rotting behind a glass façade, dressed up in neon and smog to keep the stench hidden.
Asher sat on the cold steps behind a closed nightclub, watching cigarette smoke curl toward the sky. His fingers were numb. His jaw was clenched. He hadn't spoken a word in hours.
Music used to pour from that club every night. Laughter, lights, girls in short dresses, guys with fake watches and fake confidence. But that was before the owner got stabbed behind the bar. Before police tape and shuttered doors became the new welcome mat.
Now the club was just another corpse in a city of ghosts.
Asher didn't belong to this world. Not really.
But he was stuck in it, neck-deep.
---
His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket.
He didn't check it. Not yet.
Instead, his eyes drifted to the worn wallet in his hand. Inside it—three faded photos: one of his mother from better days, smiling with sun in her hair. One of his father, before the bankruptcy, before he started drinking himself into silence. And one of a younger Asher—uniform clean, face full of fire, holding his acceptance letter to Yonsei University.
That version of him didn't exist anymore.
Tuition fees had piled up.
His father's company collapsed in scandal.
Investors vanished like smoke, and debt collectors came knocking.
Asher dropped out after the second semester. No warning. No ceremony. Just one morning, he didn't go back.
He started working odd jobs—moving trucks, courier runs, under-the-table deliveries. But no matter how many hours he bled into, it never covered the hole.
He lived above an auto garage now—bare mattress, cracked mirror, and the constant smell of grease and gasoline. He told his mother he was "figuring things out."
The truth?
He was unraveling.
---
His phone buzzed again.
He sighed and finally pulled it out.
One message. No sender. Just text.
> "Welcome to Eden's Gate."
"This is your chance. Win ten million. No rules but one: play until the end."
[Accept] [Decline]
He stared at it.
The glow of the screen lit his face in the dark, casting deep shadows under his tired eyes.
A scam? A prank?
Or something worse?
He'd seen enough in this city to know one thing:
Nothing good comes without blood on the floor.
He lit another cigarette. Took a drag.
Then exhaled slowly, like a man making peace with the devil.
"Play until the end, huh…" he muttered.
His thumb hovered.
[Accept]
The moment he pressed it, his screen flashed once—white, then black.
And the street around him…
…went silent.
No sirens. No hum of passing cars. No voices.
Just stillness.
Like the city itself had stopped breathing.
---