The hospital room was a sterile cocoon, suffocating in its antiseptic embrace. The crisp white sheets beneath me, scented faintly of laundry detergent, did nothing to soothe the tight knot of anxiety twisting in my chest.
My mind struggled to make sense of it all. The night's events replayed on an endless loop, every shadow, every flicker of movement making my heart lurch in panic. I couldn't shake the feeling that danger still lurked, waiting to strike.
It wasn't paranoia. It was survival.
After all, I had been nearly killed—killed—by men dressed in black, like shadows ripped from some twisted nightmare. Their cold, expressionless faces were burned into my memory, a reminder that my life could end at any moment, without warning.
But as unsettling as the room was—the stark walls, the fluorescent lights that buzzed like flies trapped in a jar—none of that compared to the translucent, game-like panel floating in front of me.
It wasn't part of the room. It wasn't even part of reality.
A glowing interface, the kind you'd expect to see in one of those Korean webtoons I'd binge-read on sleepless nights. The words "Do you wish to become an Administrator?" stood out like a slap in the face, with "Accept" and "Decline" hanging below, waiting for my response like some kind of sick cosmic joke.
My breath hitched, heart pounding in my chest. Was this another hallucination? Or worse, had I finally snapped?
Am I... schizophrenic?
I swallowed hard, the cold reality of that thought sinking in. Maybe I had lost it. Maybe everything—the men in black, the pain, the blood—it was all in my head. Maybe I'd always been broken, and this was just the world's way of telling me.
Or maybe... maybe something far worse was happening.
Just as I started questioning whether this whole situation was some elaborate hospital prank, the door flew open with enough force to make it seem like it was about to be ripped from its hinges. A blur of motion shot into the room, and before I could process what was happening, a girl burst in like a tornado.
Her brown pigtails whipped through the air as she charged forward, her hazel eyes wide and brimming with an intensity that made it look like she'd just sprinted across the city. She was about my height—around 155 centimeters—and looked like she was about as old as me, so around 15 years old, but somehow her presence seemed to dominate the space, like she could bend the room to her will with sheer force of personality.
Her hair, styled in low twin tails, reached slightly below her shoulders, bouncing with every frantic step. Two white scrunchies secured the tails, and for some bizarre reason, they reminded me of the tiny bows people slap on top of gift-wrapped boxes. The way her hair moved, though, it seemed like the pigtails had a life of their own, as if they were as wired as she was.
Her cheeks were flushed, the faintest pink creeping across her skin, making it seem like she had just run a marathon—or, given my current luck, fled from something far worse. Maybe a horde of monsters or men in black? Yeah, that'd be about right.
Her skin was unnaturally flawless, porcelain-like, the kind you'd only see on expensive, antique dolls. But there was something fierce about her. That flawless exterior was just a cover for the fire burning underneath. She looked ready for anything.
Her outfit reflected that too—she was dressed in a sleek black tracksuit, with white stripes running down the sleeves and legs. It looked comfortable but practical, like she could bolt out the door and cover another mile without even breaking a sweat. The jacket was only half-zipped, showing a plain white T-shirt underneath. Her pants were loose but not quite baggy, and her sneakers—well-worn and scuffed—told the story of a journey that didn't stop at the hospital doors.
For a moment, the harsh hallway light behind her cast an almost ethereal glow around her. It made her seem... otherworldly. Like she didn't belong here, in this cold, sterile room. More like a warrior from one of those crazy epics—someone who'd charge into battle with no hesitation, not a random girl visiting a hospital room.
The air around her buzzed with energy, the kind of wild, erratic adrenaline that hits you after chugging too much caffeine. Or maybe that was just my own mind playing tricks on me, still stuck in fight-or-flight mode. Either way, she had a presence that was impossible to ignore.
"Hey, are you okay?" Her voice sliced through the silence, sharp and clear, yet oddly full of concern. Hazel eyes, wide and unblinking, locked onto mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
I flinched. The sudden sound felt like an electric jolt to my chest. My mind reeled, images of the alley flashing behind my eyes—the cold, the darkness pressing in, the blood pooling beneath me. The pain. It was still there, like phantom echoes, refusing to fade.
Was I okay? Definitely not.
"Uh... yeah. I think so," I managed to croak, though my voice sounded more uncertain than I wanted. The memories, raw and jagged, were too close to the surface, threatening to drag me under again.
She didn't look convinced. Her brows knit together as her gaze flicked over me, taking in the bandages that wrapped around my stomach and forehead. "You don't look okay," she shot back, her tone firmer now, as if daring me to argue. "You were bleeding out in a dark alley a few hours ago."
My heart pounded in my ears. Bleeding out. A few hours ago. My mind tried to catch up, but nothing made sense. My throat tightened, and the metallic taste of fear lingered at the back of my tongue.
I forced myself to stay grounded, fighting off the panic that clawed at the edges of my mind. "Wait... what?" My voice cracked slightly. "You're saying you—" I stopped, glancing at her. She couldn't have been much older than me. "You... saved me?"
A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, bright and far too cheerful for the situation. "Don't be so dramatic," she said lightly, waving her hand like it was no big deal. "It wasn't that hard."
I blinked. "Wasn't that hard?" My voice dripped with disbelief. I stared at her, trying to piece together what was happening. "Sorry, but I was pretty sure I was dead. How—" I cut myself off again, unsure how to even ask the question that was hanging in the air. "How did you save me?"
She rolled her eyes as if I was asking the obvious. "Don't think about it too hard," she said, her tone turning serious. "You're not out of the woods yet."
...
I glanced down at the sterile blue sheet covering my legs. It did nothing to offer comfort, the fabric cold and impersonal against my skin. Her words weighed heavy, and deep down, I knew she was right. Safety was an illusion, a fragile one at that.
She sighed, raking a hand through her hair, which was tangled and messy from whatever ordeal she'd been through. "Look, I don't have time to explain everything right now," she said, her voice growing more urgent, frustration creeping into her tone. "But just know this—you were on the brink of being terminated from the system."
Her eyes locked onto mine, searching, as if trying to gauge whether I could grasp the gravity of what she was about to say. After a tense pause, she added, "Oh, right, you probably don't know much about this yet. Well, brace yourself—it's going to be overwhelming, but the truth is, our world is a simu—"
"I know... I know all about it." My voice came out in a whisper, barely audible as I kept my eyes trained on the sterile blue sheets.
She froze, her eyes widening in shock. The look on her face confirmed what I already suspected.
"I know... that our world is a simulation," I repeated, this time with a bitterness that cut through the air like a blade.
That's right. This world—this cold, unforgiving reality with all its meaningless chaos and superficiality—holds a secret darker than anything most could imagine.
Its very foundation…
...is built on a tower of lies.
I uncovered that cruel truth when I was just eight years old. And since that day, it has clung to me like a shadow, warping my mind in ways I can barely articulate. I was never the same after that day. The memory burned into me, vivid and relentless—the encounter that shattered my reality, pushing me to the edge of sanity.
The girl remained silent, clearly grappling with the weight of what I had just revealed. The tension between us thickened, heavy and suffocating, like the room itself was pressing down on us.
...
In that suffocating silence, a new question clawed its way to the surface—a question that sent a chill down my spine. My breath hitched as cold sweat trickled down my forehead. In all these years of isolation, no one had ever believed me. No matter how much I tried to explain the truth, it was always met with skepticism, dismissiveness.
So how—how did she know? Were there others who knew? Was she one of them?
I looked up, my facade cracking, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't meant to show.
"W-wait... how do you know that?" I asked, my voice trembling, caught between curiosity and fear.
Her confident demeanor faltered. She shifted uncomfortably, her hand rising to scratch the back of her head, a nervous gesture that betrayed her unease. Her eyes darted away for a split second before she replied.
"Uhm... well... let's save that for another time," she stammered, her awkwardness painfully obvious. "I don't want to overwhelm you right now."
Overwhelm me? Her flustered expression said otherwise. She wasn't just holding back information—she was embarrassed, maybe even afraid. But why?
Despite my growing unease, I decided not to push. I wasn't sure how much more my fraying sanity could handle.
She sank into the stool beside my bed, the frenetic energy that had powered her earlier movements slowly draining away. She sat in silence for a moment, before her expression softened, as though she had just remembered something important.
"Oh, I should introduce myself. I'm Novalie, Novalie Lavigne."
"...Nice to meet you, Novalie. I'm Idaeus Kamaras," I responded, my mind still a mess, trying to process the whirlwind of events.
Her smile brightened, soft but genuine. "Nice to meet you too. So... uhm... Idaeus... do you have any questions? You know, about the simulation?"
I met her gaze, my earlier detachment creeping back, instinctively rebuilding the walls I had let slip.
"Yeah... I actually do have a question," I said, my voice calm but laced with an unmistakable tension.
Her doe eyes lit up, a flicker of relief flashing across her face as she leaned in, her tone more encouraging now. "Really? Well, go ahead. What is it?"
I didn't hesitate. There was no point dancing around the issue that had gnawed at me for years. "Who created the simulation, and why?"
The impact of my question hit her like a punch. She froze for a moment, her composure faltering. The confusion in her eyes mirrored my own.
"Well... uh... nobody really knows for sure," she admitted, her voice laced with uncertainty.
"There are a lot of theories. Some believe it's the world governments—shadowy cabals pulling the strings from behind closed doors, controlling every aspect of our lives. Others think it's the work of multi-billion-dollar corporations—conglomerates with so much power and influence they can reshape reality itself without anyone noticing.
Then there are whispers about individuals with unfathomable connections—people who exist beyond the reach of the law, wielding resources and technology that defy understanding. And of course, there are the more outlandish theories... aliens, or entities from dimensions beyond our comprehension.
But the truth? The truth remains a mystery, obscured by layers of deception and obfuscation. All we know for certain is that someone—or something—is pulling the strings, manipulating us like puppets in a play we didn't even know we were part of.
The only thing we're even remotely sure of is that all the real, sentient beings in this simulation should exist in the "real world". It's just a theory some of us who know the truth have come up with—but it's far from confirmed."
Her words hovered in the air for a moment, like they were waiting for me to react with some kind of shock or awe. Spoiler alert: I didn't.
I stared at the ceiling, my mind still stuck on the fact that I got nothing. No revelation. No "aha" moment. Just more theories stacked on top of theories. "Nobody knows for sure," she says. How comforting.
A dry laugh almost escaped me. Of course no one knows anything for sure. Why would they? That would be too easy, too convenient for this messed-up world where nothing ever adds up.
Governments, corporations, aliens… Right, because that totally doesn't sound like the plot of The Matrix on steroids. I almost expected her to offer me a red or blue pill next, as if that would somehow make it better. Only, instead of cool leather coats and kung-fu training programs, I'd be stuck with existential dread and, I don't know, paperwork? Probably.
And let's not forget Neo had answers. Even if the whole thing was ridiculous, at least he got a rundown of what was happening. Me? I've been living in this knockoff version of reality for years and all I get are half-baked theories and cryptic nonsense.
I sighed, more out of habit than frustration. If there's some real world out there where we actually exist, then great. Sign me up. I'd happily trade this dumpster fire for whatever else is out there.
But let's be real—nothing is ever that simple. This world, this miserable illusion, was designed to keep people trapped. And me? Well, I'd probably just get stuck in another loop of "what the hell is going on."
Still, I wouldn't mind hitting the eject button if I could. Trade this hollow mess of a world for something that makes sense. Yeah, that'd be nice.
But, knowing my luck? I'd probably get booted out of the simulation only to find out The Matrix was a documentary and we're all still screwed anyway.
Wishful thinking, though. And since when has anything I wanted actually happened?
For now, the truth remained elusive, obscured by speculation and half-truths.
I glanced back at the now-faded GUI panel, the one that had popped up out of nowhere like some bad joke. A few minutes ago, I'd have written it off as some elaborate prank—probably by some TV show on the brink of getting cancelled—but now? Reality hit me like a freight train. Hard. It felt like something ripped straight from one of those awful copy-paste fantasy manhwas where the protagonist magically gets a system right after a life-altering event. You know, the kind where the guy suddenly levels up, and everything just falls into place for him like the universe finally decided to cut him some slack.
Yeah. But this? This wasn't some manhwa. And I sure as hell wasn't about to get an overpowered cheat code that would solve my problems. No, this had to be a hallucination. Stress, trauma—take your pick. It'd be the only thing that made sense, right?
"Umm... Novalie?" I started, my voice betraying the confusion gnawing at me. There was no way I was imagining that… right?
"Yes?" she responded, her eyes flicking back to me. The concern that had been so strong before was now giving way to curiosity, like she knew something I didn't.
I pointed to the spot where the panel had hung just moments ago, barely visible now, flickering in and out of existence like it was mocking me. "What's that...?"
She blinked, giving me a look that screamed, What the hell are you talking about?
"Can you seriously not see this?" I asked, waving my hand through the space where the glitchy rectangle had been, like some kind of deranged magician trying to prove a trick was real.
Her face went blank. "See what?" she asked, her tone dipping into concern again, but now it was the he thinks he's lost it kind of concern.
"This screen, this panel or whatever it is," I insisted, now officially panicking. I was grasping at air, literally and figuratively, and she was just standing there, looking at me like I'd grown a second head. "It was right here."
She stared at me for a long moment, then tilted her head, one eyebrow raised. "Did you hit your head too hard or something?"
That was the final straw. I wanted to laugh—except it wasn't funny. It was infuriating. Of course I sounded like a lunatic. Nothing says stable like claiming you're seeing invisible game menus that only you can interact with. I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "No, I didn't hit my head."
But at this point? I was starting to think maybe I should've. Would've explained a lot.
The more I interacted with this girl, the more I started to wonder if I was the one with the loose screw here.
"There's actually a screen floating in front of me, asking if I want to become an admin or something!" I blurted out, the words tumbling out before I could think about how ridiculous I sounded.
Her reaction? Immediate. Her eyes widened like I'd just dropped a live grenade in her lap. The color drained from her face faster than water down a drain. She started trembling, visibly shaking like someone had flipped a switch. Her breaths were sharp and quick, almost like she was on the verge of hyperventilating.
"...D-did you say become an.. a-admin?" she whispered, her voice barely holding it together.
"Yeah?" I replied, my heart now racing like I was about to fail a test I didn't even study for.
And that's when the terror really kicked in. Her eyes went wide. I mean, like, cartoon-character wide. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her hands started trembling so bad it looked like she was hanging onto her last thread of sanity. Her gaze shot around the room, like she was expecting the walls to come alive and swallow us whole.
"It—it can't be," she stammered, her whole body shaking, practically vibrating with fear.
I blinked, watching her spiral in real time. "Are you… okay?" I asked, trying my best not to sound like I thought she was losing it. But, well, she kind of was... "You seem... I don't know, a bit off?"
She took a breath, but it was shaky, like she was trying to stop herself from unraveling completely. "I'm sorry," she muttered, trying to pull herself together, though her voice still quivered. "Your words just caught me off guard."
"Clearly," I said, raising an eyebrow. This reaction felt a little overkill for a floating screen and some weird terminology.
She muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "I wonder how you were selected of all people..."
Her voice was barely audible, distant, like she was talking more to herself than to me. Whatever was going on in her head? It wasn't good.
Which, of course, was just great for me. Exactly what I needed—a terrified girl dropping cryptic hints while I'm already questioning my grip on reality.
Her words hung in the air like a bad omen, and I couldn't help but feel my stomach knotting up.
I mean, come on—admin? What does that even mean? Admin of what? The universe? The simulation? I'd barely wrapped my head around the fact that this whole world might not even be real, and now I'm supposed to believe that I've been chosen for some kind of cosmic IT department?
No way. This has to be a joke, right? Maybe some elaborate hallucination, or a delusion brought on by... I don't know, stress? Trauma? A head injury? Yeah, that had to be it. Except... why did it feel so real?
I rubbed my temple, trying to process everything. My brain felt like a mess of jumbled puzzle pieces, none of them fitting together in a way that made sense. But the more I thought about it, the more pieces started to snap into place, whether I wanted them to or not.
Why did Novalie freak out so badly when I mentioned the word "admin"? Why did she look like she'd seen a ghost—or worse? And how did she even know about it? The word didn't seem to mean much to me, but it clearly meant a hell of a lot to her.
Was this connected to the glitch I saw earlier? Or the men in black suits from that day years ago? Was it all finally catching up to me?
I could feel my heart rate climbing. What if this wasn't just some hallucination? What if I wasn't losing it after all, and everything I'd been trying to push out of my mind since I was a kid was real?
But if that's true... then what now? Do I want this? What even happens if I say yes to becoming an admin? Do I get powers or something? Or do I just get shoved into some cosmic office with a bunch of spreadsheets to manage the simulation? Hell, if I even try to say yes, will I end up dead—again?
My head was spinning, questions multiplying faster than I could keep up with. I didn't know what was worse—the idea that this was all real, or the fact that I didn't have a single clue what being an admin actually meant.
"Uhm... should I accept this?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper but edged with a hint of resolve.
Her reaction was instant and fraught with panic.
"YES! You have to accept it now!" she almost shouted, her voice a blend of urgency and desperation, as if the fate of the universe hinged on my decision and she feared I might just let it slip away.
I flinched at her outburst, a rush of adrenaline replacing my earlier confusion. My mind was still a swirling vortex of doubts and questions, but one thing was clear: I needed to make a choice.
"Alright, alright," I said, more to myself than to her, trying to ground the chaos in my head. "Guess it's time to dive headfirst into this mess."
I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the tide of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm me. "Okay then, here goes nothing! ACCEPT!"
As soon as I confirmed my choice, the room erupted in a dazzling display of energy that left me reeling.
A circle of glowing symbols materialized beneath me, each symbol a cascade of vibrant, pulsating colors that swirled like living flames. The air crackled with raw power, whipping around me in a tempestuous vortex. My hair whipped left and right, tangled in the chaotic dance of the wind. The room around me darkened, plunging into shadows, with the only light coming from the radiant circle beneath me. It was as if the very essence of reality was converging into this one point of blinding brilliance.
The ground beneath me trembled as the symbols grew brighter and more intricate, their patterns interlocking and expanding with mesmerizing precision. The light from the circle was the sole illumination in the darkened room, casting an otherworldly glow that made the walls seem to close in. The symbols shifted and pulsed with an intensity that made the air hum with energy, each pulse a sharp jolt through my body.
A surge of power surged through me, like I was being plugged into the core of the universe itself. The room spun around me, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of light and sound. It felt as though the very fabric of reality was unraveling and reweaving itself in a grand cosmic display.
And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it ended. The circle vanished in a burst of shimmering light, leaving the room eerily quiet. The tempest of energy dissipated like the last echoes of a storm, the air returning to its previous stillness. I was left breathless, my mind reeling from the overwhelming experience, my body trembling from the lingering sensation of power that had coursed through me.
"Well, that was a hell of a light show," I muttered, trying to make sense of the whirlwind I'd just endured, something straight out of a dragon ball power-up. "And here I thought accepting weird pop-ups was a bad idea. Guess I'm now officially part of the cosmic joke."
My attempt at humor felt hollow, like trying to laugh off the aftermath of a natural disaster. The reality of what had just happened—whatever it was—settled over me like a thick fog.
...
Novalie's wristband buzzed, shattering the silence like an unwelcome alarm.
"I'm sorry, but I have to leave," she said, her voice tight with urgency. "I'll come back tomorrow to explain the admin stuff. For now, try to rest and don't overthink it."
"Okay," I murmured, still reeling from the whirlwind of events.
As she hurried out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor, a heavy wave of unease settled over me. The GUI panel had vanished, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts and a growing mountain of unanswered questions.
I tried to summon the panel back, my mind willing it to reappear as if sheer force of will could make it materialize. No luck. It stubbornly refused to acknowledge my desperate pleas.
With a resigned sigh, I let the exhaustion take over. Tomorrow would probably bring a whole new set of surprises, each one more bizarre than the last. But for now, sleep was my only escape from the chaos.
As I closed my eyes, the whirlwind of events replayed in my mind like a surreal movie reel. One thought echoed through the fog of my thoughts: So she was right all those years ago... the world really is a simulation...
Great. Just what I needed. Another layer of reality to wrap my head around. I guess my life was officially upgraded from "weird" to "absolute cosmic absurdity."
Sleep, if it came at all, would have to be accompanied by this new, uncomfortable truth. But, as I drifted off, I couldn't shake the feeling that tomorrow would make today look like a walk in the park.