My name is Horikawa Kyoko, and I'm a corporate work slave.
As a child, I dreamed of adventure—of stepping beyond the mundane, of seeing landscapes no one had ever laid eyes on before. I longed for the unknown, for something beyond the dull repetition of everyday life.
That dream still lingers, buried beneath years of exhaustion and unfulfilled ambition.
Now? My world consists of deadlines, overflowing paperwork, and the cursed hum of a fluorescent-lit office.
Recently, I've taken up gaming—mostly romance and RPGs. They're a temporary escape, though work drains me to the point where I can't even finish most of them. And despite all my effort, my salary hasn't budged in three years.
Social life? Nonexistent.
All my high school friends drifted away, and I never reached out. Now, the only companionship I have is a mountain of unfinished game routes and the occasional existential crisis.
To make matters worse, my father was hospitalized not long after my mother passed away.
And here I am—just another tired, underpaid woman trying to keep everything together.
I'm not particularly pretty, not particularly ugly. Just… average. The kind of person you wouldn't notice in a crowd.
Romance? Ha. Not happening.
Maybe what I need is a wake-up call.
Something—anything—to break the cycle.
But what could possibly change?
"Miss Horikawa!"
The grating voice of my boss, Mr. Takanawa, snaps me out of my thoughts.
I barely suppress a sigh before plastering on my best corporate drone expression. I glance up from my desk, fingers tapping idly against the surface.
"Yes, Mr. Takanawa? Do you need something?"
His beady eyes narrow as he silently thrusts a thick folder of documents in my direction.
I don't even bother hiding my grimace. My jaw clenches as I force a tight-lipped smile.
"Sir, I already finished the campaign ad," I mutter under my breath. Damn him.
But of course, he doesn't acknowledge that.
"Get these done before the day ends," he says, his voice flat, emotionless, as if he's reading off a teleprompter.
I snatch the folder, the weight of my impending overtime settling onto my shoulders like a ton of bricks.
"Sure, I'll get right on it," I say with practiced indifference.
He gives a small nod—approval? Disinterest? Who knows—before walking off.
The moment he's out of earshot, I let my head thunk onto my desk.
What nightmare…
I want a sign. Something to save me from this corporate hellscape.
Anything.
But in reality, no matter what I do, I know deep down nothing will ever change.
Nothing.
Back at my desk, my head slumped onto my keyboard as the cursed computer-sama hummed mockingly. I hadn't even finished my lunch, and already, I was drowning in paperwork.
A deep sigh left my lips. How long do I have to put up with this?
Just as I was about to resign myself to misery, something hard jammed into my toe.
"OOOUUUCHHHH!!!"
I stumbled backward, clutching my foot. My eyes darted to the floor, searching for the culprit.
A… box?
The hell?
A tiny, goddamn box.
It was no bigger than a Rubik's cube, resting right in the middle of the walkway. Strange symbols wrapped around its surface, intricate and precise, with numbers that trailed along its edges. My brows furrowed.
"Hey! Who put this here?" I called out, but the office remained as lifeless as ever. Coworkers hunched over their desks, fingers flying over keyboards, completely unaware of my crisis.
I bent down, tracing the symbols with my fingertips.
240.
Something about that number made my stomach twist.
I glanced around one last time, then hesitantly scooped up the box. It was unnaturally cold to the touch, sending a faint shiver up my arm.
Weird. Really weird.
I should ignore it. I should toss it in the nearest trash can and get back to work before Mr. Takanawa chews me out again.
But....
Then, a familiar scent—expensive, overpowering perfume.
My stomach twists.
A perfectly manicured hand appears in my peripheral vision, followed by an insufferably smug voice.
"Well, hi there, Kyoko~ How's the boss's little slacker?"
I already know who it is before I even look.
Monika.
My entire body tenses as I slowly turn my head, I drop the box, it hits the floor before my eyes meeting the self-satisfied smirk of my former high school nightmare.
Dressed in a form-fitting red dress that screams Look at me, peasants, Monika leans casually against my desk. The confidence in her eyes is infuriating—a stark contrast to the dead look in mine.
I let out a tired groan. Why, of all people, does she work here?
"Can you not call me by my first name?" My voice is void of energy as I turn back to my monitor.
Her smirk widens. She enjoys this.
"Aw, come on, no need to be so cold, Kohai~"
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Barely.
"And what do you want this time, Monika?"
She leans in, her grin practically dripping with amusement.
"Oh, nothing much. Just came to check in on my dear underling."
Underling? The audacity.
I exhale through my nose, already regretting this conversation.
"Monika, if you have nothing important to say—"
"Actually," she cuts in, her tone turning sickly sweet, "I figured you'd want to hear some interesting news. You like fantasy and mystery, right?"
I don't respond.
Her eyes gleam with something dangerous.
"You know, I saw this cave earlier. Huge, dark, eerie… reminded me of your mother's corpse rotting inside."
My breath stills.
"Didn't she die from suicide? Perfect, right? You love the unknown, so maybe you should go explore it—see if she left a note or something."
Silence.
A thick, suffocating silence.
I don't even think. My body moves on instinct.
Before she can react—
SMACK!
The sharp, crackling impact of my palm against her cheek echoes through the office.
The entire room falls silent.
Monika's head snaps to the side, her blonde waves cascading over her shoulder.
For a split second, she doesn't move.
Then, slowly…
She laughs.
A cold, mocking laugh.
She turns back, eyes flashing with something twisted, lips curling in amusement.
"Fuhahaha~ well aren't we sensitive today."
She straightens her posture, rubbing her cheek where my hand left a vivid red mark.
Then, without another word, she turns on her heel and walks away.
The air feels thicker, my hands clenched so tightly that my nails dig into my palms.
My heart pounds in my ears.
I should feel guilty.
But I don't.
I just hope that witch meets the same fate she wishes upon others.
Hours later, I drag myself through the front door, barely holding back a groan.
"Ugh… this is torture. I still have work to do at home?"
I toss my bag onto the floor with a heavy thud, my gaze drifting toward the kitchen.
A pile of unwashed dishes stares back at me.
I sigh. Oh, to hell with it.
Ignoring the mess, I shuffle toward my room, exhaustion settling deep into my bones. But the moment I step inside, my eyes catch something out of place.
A small box sits on my desk—right next to my work folders.
"...Huh?"
I blink, stepping closer.
It's tiny, no bigger than the palm of my hand. The same strange symbols, the same number—240—etched along its surface.
Wait.
Is this… the same box from the office?
A chill crawls up my spine. I know I left it there. So how the hell is it here?
I glance around my room, half-expecting some prankster to pop out from under my bed. But the apartment is silent. Too silent.
I swallow.
Cautiously, I reach out and run my fingers along the surface of the box.
It's cold. Almost unnaturally so.
And then–
A sudden, ear-splitting screech erupts from the box.
I jerk back, nearly knocking over my chair.
"What the hell!?"
Silence.
Then, a voice.
Metallic. Hollow. Unfeeling.
"Greetings, Ranker 240."
My skin prickles.
The voice doesn't just speak—it reverberates through my body, rattling my bones.
"You will now be transported to another world. Please comply."
I stare.
No. This isn't happening. This is some stupid hallucination, a stress-induced breakdown.
"If you accept, say YES. If you refuse, say NO."
"You have ten seconds to decide. Good luck."
My breath hitches.
A countdown? A fucking countdown!?
"NO!" I blurt out, my voice cracking.
The box falls silent.
I exhale sharply, forcing out a nervous laugh. "See? Just some—"
A blinding white light explodes from the box.
The room shudders as an ear-piercing, metallic screech tears through the air—twice as loud as before.
The second I hear it, something inside me shatters.
A sharp, primal fear grips my chest.
I know now.
There is no escape.
"YOUR ANSWER IS IRRELEVANT."
My stomach drops.
"YOU SHALL NOW BE REMOVED FROM THIS WORLD AND ONTO ANOTHER."
A countdown appears in my vision, flashing bright red.
20…
NO. NO, NO, NO—
I stumble back, nearly tripping over my own feet.
19…
My chest tightens. My limbs feel heavier.
18…
I grab the nearest object—a pen—and hurl it at the box. It bounces off, useless.
17…
I snatch my stapler and chuck it. Nothing.
16…
My lamp. I rip it from the desk and smash it down. The bulb shatters, sparks flying, but the box remains untouched.
15…
Tears blur my vision. My hands tremble as I grab my chair and swing it with everything I have.
A loud CRACK fills the air—
But the box doesn't even budge.
14…
I gasp, chest heaving. My legs buckle.
"NO!" I scream. "STOP IT! STOP IT, DAMN YOU!"
13…
I lunge forward and try to kick the box off my desk. The moment my foot connects—
A shockwave tears through my body.
I scream, collapsing onto the floor. My limbs spasm as an unbearable heat floods my veins.
10…
I claw at the floor, trying to drag myself away.
9…
I glance at my bed. My phone. If I can just—
8…
My fingers stretch towards it. Just a little more—
7…
My body locks up. My muscles stiffen like stone.
6…
A sob escapes my throat. I barely register the framed photo of my mother lying next to me, her smile frozen in time.
5…
No. No, I can't—
4…
I refuse—
3…
My breath quivers.
2…
I feel it—the moment my soul detaches.
1…
My body slumps.
The picture of my mother slips from my hand.
And then—
Kyoko Horikawa is gone.