Chapter 1: The Weight of Mundanity

I wake up to the sharp buzz of my alarm. The sun barely peeks through the blinds, casting pale streaks of light across my room. My body feels heavy, as if I've been buried under the weight of my own existence. Another day, another round in this exhausting grind. I sigh and sit up, rubbing my eyes. The mirror on my dresser reflects a tired, haggard version of me—dark circles, unkempt hair, and a shirt I didn't even bother to iron.

By the time I make it to the office, I'm already late. My boss doesn't bother hiding his irritation. "Haruki," he snaps, slapping a stack of papers onto my desk, "You've messed up the data entry again. Do I need to babysit you?" I mutter an apology and bury myself in my cubicle, trying to focus, but my mind feels disconnected.

I make it through the day, barely. Back home, the quiet of my apartment is oppressive. I collapse onto my bed, letting out a frustrated groan. "What's the point?" I whisper to the ceiling before sleep takes me.

Chapter 2: The Arrival

When I open my eyes, everything is...different. My bed is gone. My room is gone. I'm standing in a vast, shimmering void, the floor beneath me glowing. Panic grips me, but before I can scream, a figure materializes out of thin air.

"Welcome, Haruki." The voice is calm yet eerily detached. I turn to see a woman—no, a hologram? She's impossibly beautiful, her sharp eyes cutting through me like a knife. "I am Iris," she says. "And you've been chosen for Stellar Arena. Here, you will perform—or perish."

I gape at her, my mind struggling to process her words. "This…this is a dream, right?" I ask, my voice shaking. Iris doesn't answer, just smiles faintly. She explains the rules, though I can barely focus. Something about choosing a skill—Singing, Dancing, or Performance. My trembling hand hovers over Singing, but a slip of my fingers lands on Dance instead.

Before I can protest, the stage transforms. Across from me, another person appears—a girl, barely older than me, sweating and shaking. Many shadowy figures with broad shoulders and hollow, glowing single eyes, watch from the distance. Music starts to play, and my body moves on instinct.

Chapter 3: Dance of Survival

I don't even know how I'm doing this. My feet move, my body spins, and for the first time in years, I feel the ghost of my old self—the idol I used to be. My opponent struggles, her movements clumsy, but I can't afford to feel pity. The music crescendos, and I finish with a flourish, panting as the last note fades.

The shadowy figures hold up glowing cards, the numbers floating into the air and merging into a score above our heads. I win. Relief floods me, but it's short-lived. My opponent collapses to her knees, begging for mercy. "Please, I'll do anything, don't—"

Her head explodes.

I don't even have time to scream. Blood splatters across my face, warm and sticky, and my legs give out beneath me. The last thing I hear before the void swallows me is Iris's calm voice: "Mercy is not part of the equation."

I wake up gasping, my heart pounding against my ribs. But the blood is still there. It's real.