The office was as suffocating as ever. I leaned back in my chair, letting my head fall against the stiff fabric, and closed my eyes for a moment. My brain felt like it was wrapped in fog, unable to focus. But even in that haze, the same thought kept creeping back in: my brother.

That idiot.

He was lying in a hospital bed right now, broken and bruised after another one of his reckless motorcycle races. Illegal racing, of course. It had to be. My fists clenched involuntarily at the memory of the doctor's voice over the phone:

"He's stable, but the injuries are serious."

Stable. Serious. Words that carried weight but felt hollow. I hated my brother. But we were all we had. Our parents were gone—wiped out in a car accident when I was barely old enough to take care of myself, let alone him. And now, after everything, here he was, draining me emotionally and financially.

How am I supposed to pay these hospital bills?

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I tried to force my brain to focus. The spreadsheet on my screen blurred into meaningless rows and columns. My thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across my desk.

"Earth to Kira," a teasing voice chimed.

I opened my eyes, startled to see Lili leaning over my desk, her usual grin tempered by concern. Her short bob of dark hair framed her face, making her look effortlessly put-together.

"Nothing," I muttered, sitting up straighter.

"Yeah, that's convincing," she said, hopping up onto the edge of my desk. "Come on, spill. You look like you're about to implode."

I laughed despite myself. "It's my brother."

Her expression softened. "Still in the hospital?"

"Yeah. And the bills…" I didn't finish the sentence. She got the idea.

Lili frowned, then quickly changed the subject, as if trying to distract me. "You know what you need? Something fun. Something completely out of your comfort zone."

"Like what?"

She grinned, her eyes lighting up. "I'm going to this LARP event this weekend. It's gonna be epic."

"LARP?" I asked, frowning.

"Live Action Role-Playing," she explained, her hands animated as she spoke. "It's like cosplay, but way more immersive. You actually become the character. There's a whole storyline, quests, battles, the works! This one's medieval-themed, so I'm going as a noble sorceress. Check it out!"

She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of her costume—a flowing gown with intricate embroidery, paired with a staff topped with a glowing blue gem.

"You spent a fortune on this, didn't you?" I asked, half-amused, half-horrified.

"Worth every penny," she said, unapologetic. "You should come! Oh, wait… no, you can't. This one's already full. But still, you should look into it. It's so much fun."

I leaned back, skeptical. "I don't get it. What's so great about running around pretending to be someone else?"

Lili smirked. "It's not pretending. It's escaping. For a few hours, you're not you. You're whoever you want to be. And honestly, Kira, you could use an escape."

I didn't respond, but her words lingered.

Later that night, after another draining day at work, I found myself scrolling aimlessly on my phone. The idea of LARP stuck in my head. What was so great about it? Why did Lili, a finance employee with a sharper tongue than most anime villains, spend so much time and money on something so… childish?

Out of sheer curiosity, I typed "LARP events near me" into the search bar.

The top result wasn't a regular event. It was an ad, glowing at the top of the page:

GET PAID TO JOIN LARP EVENTS! Exclusive Opportunity for New Players!

I blinked. Get paid? To play pretend?

I reviewed the event details carefully:

Set Theme: XXX

Event Duration: 3 Days

Requirements: None

Max Participants: 1,000

Scrolling to the bottom, I noticed there was no mention of how much we'd be paid. The only thing listed was the company sponsoring the event—Altiris Labs. I'd never heard of them before, but curiosity outweighed caution. After all, what did I have to lose?

"Should I?" I muttered aloud.

Before I could second-guess myself, I texted Lili.

Me: Hey, ever heard of paid LARP events?

Lili: Nope, but if it's legit, DO IT.

Me: It's this promo thing, I guess? They pay you to join, this weekend for 3 days.

Lili: Girl, this is fate. You're stressed, you're broke, and now you've got a free ticket to escape reality. Sign up.

Me: You're not joining?

Lili: Can't. My sorceress debut is this weekend, remember? This is YOUR chance. Go have fun, and I want full details after.

With Lili's encouragement pushing me forward, I clicked on REGISTER. The form asked for basic details—name, age, contact info— and done.

"That's it?"

The confirmation email arrived almost immediately. It was minimalist but striking—a sleek banner with a futuristic design that seemed to shimmer as I scrolled.

Welcome to ARKANOVA! Prepare for an unforgettable adventure.

Interesting. I wasn't sure about that. But for the first time in the year, I felt a flicker of excitement.

—

The next weekend, I drove to the set, a five-hour journey that took me far from the city. The road stretched endlessly into the countryside, flanked by nothing but open fields and the occasional tree.

When I finally arrived, I almost slammed on the brakes.

Before me stood an impossibly tall building, a sleek monolith of shimmering metal and glass that seemed to pierce the clouds. Its surface reflected the faint light of the afternoon sun, casting an iridescent glow that made it look otherworldly.

To one side of the building, a towering wall extended outward, curving slightly to encompass what seemed to be an enormous area. The design was seamless, almost organic, as if the structure had grown out of the ground rather than being built by human hands. The sheer scale of it made me feel small, like I'd just stumbled upon the gates of another world.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring. The thought struck me:

This isn't just a building—it's a town hall, or maybe even an entire city.

The air around the place seemed charged, almost humming with invisible energy.

"This is… huge," I murmured to myself, half-enchanted, half-overwhelmed. Whatever lay beyond those walls, I was certain it wasn't going to be ordinary.

As I stepped into the building, I couldn't help but pause, my breath catching in my throat. The interior was impossibly sleek and futuristic—everything shone in pristine white, almost clinical but somehow mesmerizing. The vast emptiness of the space made every sound echo faintly, adding to the surreal atmosphere.

Scattered across the room were guides, each wearing a robotic mask and flowing white robes. They moved with precision, as if choreographed. One approached me silently, their mechanical movements almost convincing. I wasn't buying it, though. There was no way they were actual robots—it had to be part of the immersion.

The guide held up a scanner, a soft beep confirming my identity. Then, without a word, they pressed a stamp against my hand. A faint glow of green LED light pulsed briefly as it touched my skin, but when I glanced down, the stamp left no visible mark.

I chuckled under my breath. "They're already LARPing," I muttered, half-amused. If this was their warm-up act, I had to admit it was impressive. Maybe I was finally getting a glimpse of this event's theme.

The guide gestured silently, directing me down an impossibly long hallway. The corridor, like everything else, was coated in a seamless white finish that made it feel endless. The walls were unbroken except for faintly visible doors spaced at regular intervals, each with a number etched in glowing green text. 

As I walked, I counted: 674… 675.

The number on my ticket matched the door before me. I couldn't help but marvel at the scale of the operation. If every participant had their own room, there must have been close to a hundred rooms on each hallway. Were there really 1,000 participants here? The thought was both exhilarating and unnerving.

The door, like the rest of the building, was sleek and handleless, blending so seamlessly with the wall that it was almost invisible. I hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward. The door slid open silently, revealing the small chamber within.

Inside, the room was utterly bare—just a table in the center with a wardrobe neatly folded on top. Beside it, a small pair of sleek, white earphones rested on the table. A glowing LED panel on the wall displayed a single line of text:

Please change into the provided wardrobe.

I picked up the garment, surprised by how light it felt. It was a tight, white jumpsuit, made from a material so soft and flexible that it felt like a second skin.

After glancing around the empty room—it was eerily blank, no windows, cameras, or any sign of observation—I slipped into the jumpsuit. To my surprise, it fit perfectly, hugging my frame without feeling restrictive. The material was breathable, almost weightless, and moved effortlessly with me.

Once I was dressed, I picked up the earphones, hesitating for a moment before sticking them in my ears. They fit snugly, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, a soft chime rang through them, followed by a calm, robotic voice:

[Wardrobe integration in progress… complete.

Fit assessment: Optimal. Proceed to the next step.]

I blinked, startled. I hadn't expected them to talk. I glanced at the glowing LED panel again—it had shifted to display an arrow pointing toward another door labeled Exit.

The door slid open without a sound, beckoning me forward.