The café hummed with the usual sounds: clinking cups, muted conversation, and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards. In the farthest corner, Ye Xiu sat, hunched over his screen, lost in the familiar world of Glory. His focus was razor-sharp, his eyes darting across the battlefield, tracking every move, every cooldown, every opportunity. He had honed this focus over years of playing, and it never failed him. Until tonight.
His team was locked in a brutal match against a formidable opponent—a guild known for their ruthless coordination. They had cornered his team, pressing them into a tight spot near the edge of the map. It was a delicate situation, but Ye Xiu was no stranger to these moments. He thrived in them. His fingers danced across the keyboard with precision, guiding his character, Silent King, through the chaos with the grace of a veteran fighter.
But tonight, something felt off.
As his team scrambled to hold the line, Ye Xiu's phone, carelessly tossed onto the edge of the desk, began to vibrate. The sound was faint under the din of the café, but to him, it was a distraction—a needle pricking at the edges of his concentration. His eyes flickered toward the phone for a brief second before snapping back to the screen. The number flashed across the screen—unknown. He felt a twinge in his chest, a subtle warning from somewhere deep inside.
His instincts told him to pick up the call. It was a feeling he hadn't had in years—the kind of gut-level warning that usually kept him alive in-game. But this was the real world. He could ignore it.
His fingers hesitated for the briefest of moments, and in that time, his team's defence began to crack. The enemy was relentless, their formation tightening as they launched a coordinated assault. Ye Xiu bit the inside of his cheek, refocusing. The phone continued to buzz, vibrating against the wooden surface like an insistent nag, but he forced himself to block it out.
He wouldn't lose. Not now. Not after everything.
His team rallied behind him, following his lead as Silent King slashed through the frontlines with deadly precision. The enemy was pushed back, just enough to give his team some breathing room. But the phone buzzed again, louder this time—or maybe it was just in his head. His heart thumped harder than it should have.
Unknown Number.
Something was wrong. He knew it. He could feel it crawling up his spine like cold fingers. His pulse quickened, but he tried to brush it off. It's nothing, he told himself. Just focus.
But he couldn't shake the feeling. His vision began to blur at the edges, the familiar rhythm of the game slipping away as the nagging sense of dread crept into his mind. His thoughts started to drift—unwanted memories, fragments of conversations, moments he'd long buried in the back of his mind. He heard echoes of voices: teammates, Hao, the laughter, the promises.
The phone vibrated again. It seemed to echo in his ears now, drowning out the sounds of the game, the café, everything. His hand hovered over the mouse, trembling slightly. Just answer it, a voice in his head whispered. But another part of him, the stubborn part, refused. He couldn't afford to be distracted. He was Ye Xiu, the Silent King. He didn't falter under pressure. He didn't lose.
But the momentary lapse in focus had already cost him.
He saw it too late in the corner of his screen—the enemy team had repositioned while his attention wavered. They struck with ruthless efficiency, targeting his team's weakest point. The trap had been sprung, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His fingers twitched on the keyboard, trying to compensate and pull his team back from the brink.
But the momentum was gone.
Silent King's health plummeted as the enemy team capitalized on the mistake, cutting him down before he could react. His character staggered, taking hit after hit, until finally, in a flash of light and sound, Silent King fell.
Defeated.
For the first time in years, Ye Xiu had lost a battle. And it wasn't because his skill had failed him—it was because his mind had betrayed him.
The defeat screen flashed across his monitor, taunting him, and for a moment, Ye Xiu just sat there, staring blankly at the screen. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming shallow and quick. The phone vibrated one last time, and then the café fell silent again, save for the murmurs of other players around him.
Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, his body tense, his jaw clenched. He hadn't felt this kind of loss in years—not since his last days with his old team. The memory hit him hard, the weight of it pressing down on him like a heavy fog.
He glanced at the phone, now still on the table. Unknown Number.
Ye Xiu exhaled slowly, the tightness in his chest still lingering. He didn't want to admit it, but something was wrong. Something was pulling him back into the real world, and he wasn't ready for it. Not yet.
His fingers flexed over the keyboard, but the thrill of the game had vanished, leaving only the cold, creeping sensation of doubt. What was it that had unsettled him so deeply? What had he ignored?
He picked up the phone, staring at the missed call. His gut twisted as he considered calling back. But before he could make a decision, the screen lit up again. Another call.
This time, he answered.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was one he hadn't heard in years—sharp, familiar, and laced with something that sent a chill down his spine.
"We need to talk," the voice said, cutting through the silence like a blade.
And in that moment, Ye Xiu knew his life was about to change.