A soft hum filled the void, barely audible yet omnipresent, like a machine breathing in the distance.

A boy, seemingly in his late teens, lay unconscious on the cold, featureless floor of an empty room. His pale skin seemed to glow under the strange, sterile light, though no visible source illuminated the space. The room's walls were cracked and mottled with mold, their decay speaking to years of neglect.

The boy stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. His sharp brown eyes scanned his surroundings with confusion, framed by thick, dark eyebrows that furrowed as realization dawned: he didn't know where he was—or who he was.

He pushed himself up with trembling arms, his medium-length black hair falling messily over his forehead. His movements were sluggish, as if his body hadn't moved in ages. Above average in height but lean, he stretched his sore limbs, a faint groan escaping his lips.

"Where... am I?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

He pressed his palms against his temples, searching for any memory, but the effort yielded nothing.

"Why can't I remember anything? I... I can't remember anything." His voice broke slightly, but his face betrayed little panic. Instead, he sat still, his composure unsettling for someone in his situation.

His gaze dropped to his clothes. A plain white T-shirt hugged his chest, paired with matching white pants that looked almost unnaturally clean. He touched the fabric, noting its soft, synthetic texture.

"What is this?" he murmured. The stark contrast between his pristine clothing and the decrepit room gnawed at him.

Despite his composed exterior, a chill ran through him. "Am I... being watched?" he whispered to the emptiness. Why am I clean? Why am I here?

A loud POOF! shattered his thoughts.

He whipped his head toward the sound. Two holes appeared in the ground, their edges smooth and deliberate, as if cut by invisible hands. Slowly, slender pillars rose from the openings, each topped with a button—one black, the other white.

He stared at the buttons, a mix of suspicion and curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"What are these?" he murmured. His hand hovered over them, but he didn't press. "What would happen if I pressed one? Could this be a test?"

Before he could decide, a faint hum filled the room. A holographic screen materialized in front of him, its glow soft but commanding.

"Ah!" He stumbled back, instinctively raising his hands defensively.

The shock faded as quickly as it came. Intrigued, he stepped closer to the screen, his brown eyes narrowing as he read the words displayed:

"Press black to start and white to continue."

"Huh? Is that it? Will it not explain anything?" His tone sharpened, frustration breaking through his calm facade.

He scratched his head and glanced back at the buttons. "I don't trust this. I need to think."

He walked to a corner, his tall frame leaning against the cracked wall as he sat down to process.

"I'm in a room with no doors, no windows, no openings of any kind. I don't know who I am, but I can speak, read, and think clearly. What kind of place is this?" His words echoed faintly in the empty space.

"These buttons… they seem suspicious. But what happens if I press one? And if I don't?"

A second screen materialized with a faint pop!

He flinched again, his back pressing against the wall. "What is wrong with these things?" he muttered before leaning forward cautiously.

This time, the screen's message sent a chill down his spine:

"If buttons aren't pressed in order, participant will suffer from severe dehydration in the following 89 hours and succumb to death."

His heart skipped a beat. The word death clung to his mind, but a surge of adrenaline forced him to keep his composure.

"This place... it's dangerous," he murmured. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists. "Eighty-nine hours. That's over three days. No water, no food. If pressing these buttons is the only way out, then..."

He stood and faced the pillars. "An uncertain safety is better than a guaranteed death."

He pressed the black button.

Ding!

A soft, mechanical voice echoed:

"System unlocked."

He turned instinctively, but the room remained empty. Another screen blinked into existence before him.

"Please enter name: __________."

"A name?" he whispered. "It wants my name? But... I don't even know who I am."

After a long pause, he exhaled. "If I don't have one... I'll make one."

He tapped the glowing keyboard.

"Roon," he said softly. "That sounds right."

The screen responded:

"Please enter name: Roon."

"Welcome to The Realm of Ambitions."

Roon read the words, curiosity sparking in his chest. "Realm of Ambitions?"

He turned back to the white button. "Guess there's no turning back now."

As his hand hovered over it, he pressed it cautiously.

The ground opened beneath him without warning.

"Wha—!"

He screamed as he plummeted, the world spinning in a blur. Seconds later, he landed with a heavy bam!

"Ugh!" Roon groaned, expecting pain but feeling none. He rolled over, dazed. "Why didn't that hurt?"

As he stood, he spotted a figure nearby—a man, slightly shorter than himself, with long white hair cascading over his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard. His clean appearance stood out, his grey eyes sharp and unwavering as they met Roon's gaze. He wore the same white outfit, unblemished and eerily pristine.

"Who are you?" Roon demanded, his voice tense.

The man turned with a calm expression. "I am an old man in the same situation as you, young man."

"What do you mean?" Roon asked, narrowing his eyes.

The man gave a faint smile. "You look confused. What is your name?"

"I should be asking you that," Roon replied cautiously.

The man chuckled softly. "I've named myself Senar. My true name, I do not recall."

Roon hesitated. "Roon. My name is Roon." He frowned. "And I don't remember mine either."

The two stared at each other, questions unspoken but shared.

chapter 1 ends.