The worn zipper of Kai's backpack gave a crisp, functional zip. Inside, the gear was packed with surgical precision: a sleek, weighted gaming mouse, the mechanical keyboard resting face-down in its sleeve, two lukewarm energy shots.
PACKING: A SIMPLE TASK.
The only time Kai's hands felt truly decisive was when preparing for a fight.
He glanced around the dorm room. Messy clothes spilled from a hamper, half-eaten instant ramen containers decorated the desk, and textbooks—heavy, dusty testaments to his failure—were stacked like a small tombstone.
"My name is Kai," he muttered, his voice flat. A high school failure. My academic life is a joke. My social life is non-existent.
His parents had given up years ago. No more pressure, no more nagging to go outside or pick up a "real" sport. Just silence. They saw the shell. They never saw the mind inside.
His phone buzzed, vibrating against a stack of Naruto manga. A notification popped up from his largest fan channel.
GHOST MINDED! The Grand Finals start in an hour! We believe in you!
A surge of energy—not pride, but necessity—hit him.
I am an ambivert, but they call me the Ghost. I lead teams of thousands in silence.
He never needed to raise his voice. His strategies spoke for him, cold and complete. They listened. They trusted. The game was the only place he felt safe. The only home he had. The glow of his favorite anime poster—a lone hero fighting overwhelming odds—was the only motivation he needed to fight through the mundane reality just one more day.
He secured the strap of his backpack, its weight familiar and comforting.
He pushed the door open, stepping past the laughing students in the hall. He knew what they were saying. Did you see his history test score? Seriously, a waste of space.
He didn't flinch. He didn't even slow down.
They said eSports wasn't a "real" sport. That his tactical brilliance, his one true gift, didn't matter in the "real" world.
He stopped at the exit, adjusting his stance. The Ghost Minded was leaving the building.
Today, I'm not a failure. Today, I'm performing as a real player. A champion.
He looked up at the midday sun, squinting.
E-SPORT.
I AM COMING FOR YOU.
SCENE CHANGE: ARENA
The stadium ROARED.
The transition was violent, a physical punch of sound and heat. Kai stepped through the final curtain, and the world dissolved into an explosion of scarlet and blue stage lights. The massive screen above the stage flashed his team's logo: a stylized, silent skull.
The cheers were deafening, the sheer volume a living thing pressing down on him. A wave of nervous energy, the kind that makes you want to turn and flee, tried to grab his lungs.
No. Not yet.
He focused on the stage, where the commentator's voice was already bellowing through the static: "AND HERE THEY ARE! THE SILENT STRATEGISTS! THE TEAM LED BY THE MYSTERIOUS GHOST MINDED!"
Kai walked, head slightly bowed, his gaze locked not on the crowd, but on the pristine, ready keyboard waiting for him.
He sat down, placing his backpack at his feet. His hands were steady. He put on the sound-canceling headset.
The world went silent. Just the screen. Just the game.
Across the stage, a boy with bleached blond hair—the captain of the opposing team—caught his eye. He gave Kai a wide, arrogant smile.
A message flashed onto Kai's private terminal screen—it wasn't a game notification, but a fan message from his cult-like following. It was cryptic, unsettlingly zealous.
WE ARE WATCHING. WIN, GHOST. OR PAY THE PRICE.(MESSAGE FROM-THE ARCHITECTS)
Kai stared at the text. His heart rate, which had just calmed for the game, spiked again.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
The ref shouted: "FIVE SECONDS TO START!"
Kaito shoved the fear down. He had to focus.
He had to win.
"TOURNAMENT… STARTS NOW!"
The referee's voice echoed through the arena.
The screen in front of Kai lit up, washing his vision in familiar patterns and maps. The crowd faded into meaningless noise. His breathing slowed.
This was home.
Round one ended before it truly began.
Kai read the battlefield like an open book—predicting routes, collapsing formations, dismantling strategies before the enemy realized they had one. His team moved exactly when needed, exactly where needed.
It wasn't difficult.
It was boring.
So Kai changed the rules.
He lifted his hand and played with one finger.
Laughter rippled through the crowd—then died abruptly as the opposing team was erased in seconds.
Unsatisfied, Kai reached into his bag, pulled out a cloth, and tied it over his eyes.
Gasps exploded across the arena.
Blindfolded, he leaned back slightly, listening. Not to the commentators. Not to the crowd.
To timing.
To rhythm.
To sound.
He guided the mouse calmly, sipping his boba tea as if he were sitting alone in his room.
Victory came again.
And again.
Finally, the screen flared bright:
GHOST MINDED — TOURNAMENT CHAMPION
For a single heartbeat, the arena fell silent.
Then chaos erupted.
A tsunami of cheers crashed through the stadium. Lights flashed violently. The commentators screamed his name into the void.
Kai removed the blindfold.
He didn't smile.
He didn't bow.
He stood, gathered his bag, and walked out of the cabin as if none of it mattered.
As he reached the exit tunnel, his phone vibrated.
One message.
YOU PLAYED WELL.
— THE ARCHITECTS
Kai stopped.
The cheering behind him grew louder—deafening, overwhelming.
Then his vision warped.
His body felt light.
Wrong.
His fingers began to break apart—not bleeding, not burning—simply dissolving into glowing particles. His legs followed. His torso faded.
No one noticed.
To the cameras, Ghost Minded still stood victorious.
But Kai was already gone.
---
He appeared a few inches above the ground.
Then fell.
Pain jolted through him.
Darkness swallowed everything.
---
Kai woke slowly.
The first thing he noticed was the weight on his chest.
Warm. Real.
He opened his eyes.
A girl was lying on top of him.
Her eyes were open too—wide, unfocused, as if she was still trying to understand reality. She hadn't realized where she was yet.
Then she noticed him.
Their faces were dangerously close.
Too close.
Her breath caught.
Realization struck all at once.
She scrambled backward instantly, standing so fast she nearly lost her balance.
"W-Where am I?!" she demanded, panic breaking through her voice. "Who are you?!"
Kai sat up slowly, his heart racing just as fast.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
The girl froze.
Embarrassment flushed across her face as she processed what had just happened—how long they must have been like that without realizing.
She turned away briefly, then faced him again, forcing composure.
"This…" she said quietly.
Her voice faltered.
"This is Earth."
Kai followed her gaze.
At first, everything looked normal.
The sky.
The land.
The horizon.
Then it hit him.
The world was tilted.
Not spinning. Not broken.
Just… wrong.
The ground sloped unnaturally, as if the planet itself had been shifted by thirty degrees. The sky felt heavy on one side, distant on the other. Even standing felt slightly unbalanced, like gravity itself had been adjusted.
Earth—but distorted.
Kai's chest tightened.
"This isn't how Earth should feel," he said.
The girl nodded slowly.
Silence stretched between them.
Two strangers.
Same age.
Same planet.
Yet nothing felt familiar anymore.
And whatever had brought them here had done it on purpose.
---
[END OF CHAPTER 1]
Unanswered questions remain:
Who is she?
Why is Earth tilted?
What are The Architects?
Why was Kai chosen?
And how do two lonely souls survive a world that feels familiar—yet fundamentally wrong?