Without further ado, I stepped confidently into the room.
And whatever kind of death awaited me—or maybe some newfangled version of it—I'd already resigned myself. Because right now, all I could see was a long, empty corridor with no sign of any other participants. Ever since I stepped into this basement, they all vanished.
This room… had no ventilation. I could tell just by the thick concrete walls.
It was a perfect cube—no pun intended.
Closed off. Sealed tight.
It was like we—the players—were deliberately placed inside isolation boxes. Not just to trap the body, but to squeeze the mind to its lowest point. And yeah… this room was soundproof. Even my own breathing felt like it was being absorbed into the walls.
The lighting? Well, it was dim red.
Neon glowed faintly in every corner, making the whole place look like some futuristic e-game arcade in a mall—except this one wasn't built for fun at all.
[MID GAMER, THE GAME WILL BEGIN SHORTLY. PLEASE PREPARE YOURSELF]
Now? With no weapon?
I ignored the nickname addressed by the AI.
Instead, I glanced at my hands. It was empty. No gear. Not even gloves.
See? I told you—I've already accepted death.
But that doesn't mean I'm just gonna sit still and let it happen.
Who knows, maybe I can jinx the system nonchalantly.
Reverse psychology 101.
Expect the worst, and maybe get the opposite.
Yeah, could work.
Well, could.
[WARNING. THIS ROUND IS A ONE-SHOT GAME. IF YOU WIN THEN PROCEED TO THE NEXT GAME, CONSIDER IT A BONUS]
Yeah, I got that.
[REMINDER: YOU MAY ACTIVATE YOUR UNLOCKED EGO FOR THIS ROUND. THE ACTIVATION IS A SINGLE USE ONLY. NO INVENTORY ALLOWED.]
Just once?
And how… exactly?
What is Ego even in this case?
They hand out weird rules but no tutorial. Brilliant.
If I end up wrecked, no one better blame me.
So, my odds of surviving? Zero.
No, could be less than zero. Something like 0.0000001%.
Still, it's basically impossible, bro. Ain't no way I'm gonna survive here.
[THE GAME WILL BEGIN IN THREE… TWO… ]
[ONE!]
All of a sudden, the lights dimmed instantly.
Then, on the wrist radar strapped to my arm, an icon began moving.
A name appeared: [AI] — in deep red.
What about the icon? It was round.
And a big circle, right on the map.
Yup, that's it. I'm dead. Game over before it even begins.
Because if those colors and shapes really mean power levels like in games… yeah, I'm fucking screwed. Especially with my noodle body that's been hated exercise since birth.
And now, as I'm more than ready to face death allow me to offer one simple piece of advice to all of you: Work out.
Seriously, don't be like me.
Lazy, stamina-less, relying solely on brainpower—barely useful.
And did you know? I admire people who actually move their body.
Those who can do push-ups, sit-ups, or even morning jogs. Basically, people with real muscles, not just the ones from those AI camera filters.
…Wait, why am I even thinking about this right now?
There's an enemy right in front of me and I'm over here monologuing.
You're truly insane, Midnight.
And no, it wasn't even over yet. The clone of VelvetVice—yeah, the real deal—stood across the room, about ten meters away. Exactly like I estimated the size of this box.
Ten times ten, yes.
Anyway, she was ripped. Which is... fine, I guess.
I mean, tall girls are cool.
But seriously—no, seriously—here's my actual concern:
SHE'S A GIRL. Like, boobs, hips, thighs, all of it.
You name it.
And not the blocky polygon kind.
No. This was high-def, full-simulation, motion-captured woman.
I get it. Maybe she's a guy IRL.
That's normal. Whatever.
But hey—did they really have to go this far with the accuracy?
The build, the bounce, the freaking collarbone definition?!
I mean, calm down, devs. This isn't a beauty pageant—it's a death game!
Not to mention the femur-to-hip ratio, the calf curvature, the—and wait, is that… clavicle shading?! Who the fuck coded this?
The sway of her hips. The delicate arch of her spine. Even the way she breathed looked like it belonged in a perfume commercial.
My brain short-circuited. I wasn't ogling—I was analyzing!
For data. For the sake of my own survival.
Anyway, she didn't move. Instead, she just stood there.
Like a statue sculpted by someone with way too much time…
And too many reference photos.
Silent.
And weird.
Too weird.
Hold on, wait… don't tell me this is... passive mode AI type?
...
Okay. One important fact before I die (which weirdly hasn't happened yet):
Back in 2033, a lot of people started rejecting AI. Said it was too controlling. Too invasive. Too… "smart on its own."
Then came a solution from the world's biggest AI company—you don't need the name, you know who I mean—the one famous for its disturbingly human-like chat features.
That solution was called: Passive Mode.
An AI setting that minimized automatic responses, giving users space to create without direct AI interference. Minimal input, max output. The AI just acted like a passive mirror.
The result? Even the hardcore anti-AI crowd started using it. Said it felt "manual" again, even though there was still AI behind the curtain.
Examples? Tons of manga artists who once swore off AI now use it for corrections—without the AI touching their art style. Some critics even said it was the only AI that didn't mess with the artist's ego.
But... back to reality.
One meter.
That's just how close we were right now.
I then stepped forward. Slowly but sure.
And so did she.
But then, just as the distance between us couldn't shrink any further without contact…
...She stopped.
And so did I naturally.
My heartbeat pounded like a radar gone haywire.
Then, all of a sudden—
VelvetVice opened her eyes.
But her eyes? Glowing. Blue. Static.
And on my watch screen, new text popped up:
[PASSIVE MODE DISABLED — FULL AI ENGAGEMENT INITIATED]
A faint smile crept across the clone's lips.
A smile that was the furthest that is from human.
A synthetic grin. More devilish than any demon kind.
[TO BE CONTINUED...]