"Open this damn door, Echo !" A loud thump came from the door.
Echo flinched, his thumb slipping off the joystick for a fraction of a second. His character took a hit, the damage bar flashing red.
"Shit." He slammed his fingers against the buttons, barely dodging a finishing move. The voice outside grew louder.
"I said open the damn door!"
Echo pressed pause, sighing as he pushed his chair back. The room was a mess, empty chip bags, tangled wires, and a few untouched bowls of food his mother had left on his desk days ago. The air smelled of dust and stale instant noodles.
For a split second, his screen resumed by itself. A strange, pixelated message flashed at the top corner of his screen:
[Initializing... Player Detected.]
Echo frowned. What the hell was that? Before he could react, his father slammed on the door again.
He pulled the door open just as his father raised a fist to knock again.
His mother stood behind him, arms crossed, wearing that same exhausted look.
"Do you even know what time it is?" she snapped.
Echo rubbed his eyes. "No."
His father sighed heavily. "It's past three in the morning, Echo. What the hell are you still doing up?"
Echo shrugged. "Playing."
"Playing?" His father's voice sharpened. "That's all you do! You sit in here, rotting in front of that damn screen! When was the last time you ate properly? Look at you!"
Echo turned his head away, resisting the urge to glance at the mirror. He already knew what he'd see, a bony frame, hollow cheeks, sharp collarbones peeking through his oversized shirt. His sleeves hung loosely around his wrists.
His mother's voice softened slightly.
"Honey, I brought you dinner earlier. Did you even touch it?"
Echo barely remembered. Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn't. It didn't matter. Even when he ate, nothing changed. He still looked the same, thin, weak, like a ghost of himself.
"I wasn't hungry," he muttered.
His father ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident.
"This isn't normal, Echo. You can't just—"
"Dad, just stop," Echo interrupted, voice flat. "You don't get it."
"No, I don't. Because it makes no damn sense !" His father gestured wildly at the messy room. "You sit in here all day, playing those stupid games like they're keeping you alive, but look at you! You look like you're dying!"
Echo was quiet, because if he had told them what he was going through. They would never believe him.
His mother sighed, rubbing her temples.
"At least eat something before you sleep. Please."
Echo nodded absentmindedly, knowing they'd leave faster if he pretended to agree.
His father stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and walking away. His mother lingered, her gaze filled with something Echo couldn't quite place, it was pity, sadness, or maybe just exhaustion.
"Get some rest," she murmured before closing the door behind her.
Echo stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where they had been. Then he turned back to his screen, unpaused the game, and continued playing.
•••
The next morning, school was hell.
"Oi, stick boy!"
Echo barely turned before a hand slammed into his shoulder, knocking him off balance. He stumbled forward, his thin frame doing nothing to hold the impact.
Laughter erupted from behind him.
"Damn, look at this guy. Do you even eat, nerd?"
Echo bit his lips, pushing himself upright. He knew how this went. If he talked back, they'd make it worse. If he ignored them, they'd get bored eventually.
One of the seniors, Zai, a tall guy with a buzz cut, grabbed his arm, squeezing his wrist.
"Dude, your bones feel like twigs. What the hell, man?"
"Maybe he's a ghost," someone else joked.
"More like a walking corpse," another voice laughed.
Echo yanked his arm back, keeping his face blank. They weren't wrong. He barely ate, barely slept, and spent most of his life staring at a screen. He was barely alive, and they bullying never stopped.
But then something changed.
"Wait, wait, hold up," Zai said, squinting at him. "Ain't you the kid who played against those college dudes at the arcade last weekend?"
Echo froze.
The other guys perked up. "Oh yeah, he won big, right? That crazy comeback?"
Zai grinned. "You any good at betting?"
Echo didn't answer, because they didn't need him to.
"That settles it." Zai threw an arm around his shoulders. "From now on, you're one of us."
Echo stiffened. One of them?
"You play for us," Zai continued. "We place the bets, you win the games. Simple, yeah?"
Echo swallowed. "What if I lose?"
The grip on his shoulder tightened.
"Then you're fucking dead."
The words were spoken so casually, so effortlessly, that for a moment, Echo wondered if he had misheard. But the look in Zai's eyes told him he hadn't.
Echo forced himself to nod. "Got it."
The arm around him loosened. "Good. Now let's go place some bets."
•••
The neon lights of the gaming station barely lit up the space. The air smelled faintly of sweat and energy drinks. He was used to it, it was his second home now.
Echo sat hunched over a screen, his fingers moving like lightning over the keyboard. His hoodie was two sizes too big, making him look even skinnier.
"You better win this, nerd," a voice growled behind him.
A hand landed on his shoulder, gripping hard. zai, his senior.
"I said, you better win." Zai's grip tightened. "You know what happens if you don't."
A cold chill ran down his spine. He knew exactly what would happen.
"Yeah, I know," he muttered, eyes never leaving the screen.
He had no choice. He had to win.
The game's battle countdown appeared. [3... 2... 1...]
"Fight!"
His hands moved over the keys. His champion, a dual-blade assassin, moved forward, dodging enemy attacks with strong, defensive movements. He saw openings where others didn't. Every slash, every counter, was executed with brutal perfection.
Zai and his gang watched, whispering to each other.
"Damn, this kid is insane..."one of them muttered.
The final enemy collapsed, his health bar draining to zero.
"Victory!"
Cheers erupted around him, but he barely exhaled. His hands were shaking. If he had lost… He didn't even want to think about it.
"Nice work, nerd." Zai slapped his back hard enough to make him lurch forward. "You just made me $500. See? You do have a use."
Echo clenched his fists under the table. Nerd? Use? That's all he was to them. A tool.. to make money.
••••
Later that night, Echo walked home, exhausted. He didn't even know if he could call it home anymore. Getting inside the house, the apartment was quiet, the usual sound of the fridge, he used to hear when he neared the kitchen disappeared.
"Mom?" he called out. No answer.
"Dad?" Nothing.
A creeping sense of dread coiled in his gut. He checked their room. Their things were gone. The kitchen? Empty.
The closet? Empty. The bathroom? Empty.
His breath turned shallow. He ran outside, knocking on the neighbor's door.
Mrs. Lee, the old woman next door, cracked the door open. Her tired eyes looked at him with pity.
"Oh… you poor thing."
His stomach dropped.
"Did you see my parents?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "They left, dear."
"...Left?" He asked again, as if he misheard Mrs Lee.
"They said they were going on a vacation. Didn't they tell you?"
His chest tightened. No, because they didn't. And that didn't make sense. They left? Just like that? Without telling him?
Mrs. Lee placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. "You should go inside, Echo. You look pale."
•••
A year passed. His parents didn't come back, he was left with no rent money, just nothing. He got kicked out. With nowhere to go, he slept at the gaming station. He played for food. He played to survive. No one cared, not even his relatives.
Until one night… everything changed.
"Welcome, Player."
His screen flickered on. He frowned, he wasn't even logged into a game. Lines of strange code ran across the monitor. Then, a deep, distorted voice spoke:
"You have been chosen."
His pulse jumped. "W-What…?"
The voice ignored him.
"Do you wish to escape your meaningless life?"
His throat dried. What kind of question was that? Of course, he did.
"Do you wish to enter the True Game?"
A single button appeared on the screen.
[Accept]
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. This was probably a virus. But… he had nothing left to lose.
He clicked.