The world had never been fair. But it had always been… predictable.
People were born, lived, and died. The strong ruled, the weak obeyed. Everything followed an imperfect yet stable order.
Then, one day, the disappearances began.
At first, they were isolated incidents. One person here. Another there.
Anomalies the world could afford to ignore. But the numbers kept rising. Hundreds. Then thousands each year.
Governments urged the population to remain calm, insisting everything would be resolved. Nothing was.
Slowly, the entire world sank into silent chaos. Paranoia became ordinary. Outlandish conspiracy theories spread like wildfire—stories of lizard men, of hidden rulers, of an approaching apocalypse.
And then, one day, the missing began to return.
One by one, without explanation.
That was when humanity heard the name for the first time.
Keyros.
A parallel world.
A reality resembling a colossal chessboard.
There, survival was only possible through participation in trials of unimaginable variety. Those who returned began to be called Chesstakers—individuals who had obtained powers after surviving the games of Keyros.
Superhuman beings.
Entities that had transcended the limits of mankind.
But the returnees were not the only change.
Soon after the emergence of the Chesstakers, fragments of Keyros began to manifest across the world.
And each fragment meant one thing:
if no one entered the trials… the creatures of Keyros would descend upon reality itself.
It was how the governments explained the fragments appearing all over the world.
An anomaly. A phenomenon still "under control." A threat science would eventually understand.
But personally, he didn't care.
— All of this… it's not for me.
The boy had jet-black hair and eyes of the same dark shade. His skin was so pale he almost looked like a corpse.
Deep dark circles marked his eyes, and his frail body gave the impression he could collapse at any moment, as if he were constantly on the verge of death.
Yet it wasn't death he feared.
He had always believed this world had never made a place for him.
An abandoned one. A reject of a society where the weak remained forever beneath the feet of the strong.
He had once lived in an orphanage.
But even there, he had never truly belonged.
After the orphanage went bankrupt, they decided to "reduce the number of mouths to feed."
And of course… who was chosen, if not him?
The one they called the Walking Corpse.
— I have a name… it's Daeven. Not "Walking Corpse."
After what felt like two hours of cursing under his breath, he finally calmed down and focused on why he had come here.
A bakery.
Yes… a bakery.
He stood there in silence.
The night had already fallen, darkness stretching across the empty streets. The dim glow of the streetlamps painted the road in a faint, almost fragile light, while the cold wind blew without mercy.
Daeven let out a slow breath.
Even from where he stood, he could smell it.
The rich, warm scent of freshly baked bread… and something more—something he couldn't quite recognize.
After all, aside from bread…
he had barely eaten anything else his entire life.
He stared at the display window, dimly illuminated from within by a hanging chandelier.
Rows upon rows of pastries were neatly arranged behind the glass.
— Yeah… no doubt about it. This is a luxury bakery.
At least, that's what he believed.
Daeven had never seen a real bakery in his life. Otherwise, he would have known that there was nothing special about it.
This… was normal.
It was something he had once heard.
A man, huddled in an alley, warming himself beside a pitiful fire fed by scraps of cardboard, had been complaining about the bakery next door.
Not because it smelled bad.
No…
Quite the opposite.
The scent was so rich, so unbearably good… that it became torture for those who couldn't even afford a single piece of bread.
After what felt like hours, I finally decided to push down the handle and enter.
What I saw inside was… magnificent. From the neatly arranged goods to the rich smell in the air, there was no doubt about it—I was in heaven.
In front of me stood a man. He looked to be in his thirties, muscular, with a thick beard and a bald head. He scanned me from head to toe before speaking in an irritated voice.
"I'm going to say it clearly. People like you, I see them every day.
Those who think that just because they look miserable, others will pity them. Don't be mistaken. I know you don't have a single coin on you, so you'd better leave my shop before I lose my temper."
I stared at him for a few seconds, weighing whether I could beat him in a fight.
I immediately abandoned that idea.
With my skeletal body… what exactly was I even hoping to accomplish?
"And? Are you deaf? I'm talking to you," the baker said with a smug expression.
Daeven was used to being treated like trash by others, but the way this man looked at him pushed something inside him dangerously close to breaking.
However… hunger was far stronger than anger.
So he said, swallowing a strand of saliva:
"I have money."
The baker looked at him with an amused, mocking expression.
"Oh? Really? Don't make me laugh."
But then Daeven slowly placed his right hand into his pocket and pulled out something.
Something whose color faintly resembled money.
The baker froze.
"…What? That trash actually has money?"
In that instant, Daeven threw what was in his hand.
Dust and dried leaves exploded into the baker's eyes.
"Ah—! Damn it! You little bastard!"
"You think you can get away with this?!"
But Daeven was already ignoring him.
Without hesitation, he sprinted forward and leapt through the shop window blocking his path to the food.
"I did it…"
His plan was a complete success.
Of course, he didn't actually have any money. If he did, he would have simply bought the food and left.
But now…
He reached the bread.
It was glazed, shining under the light, almost as if it was calling out to him.
And then—
A heavy impact struck his back.
His body collapsed to the ground.
The baker stood behind him, wielding a wooden stick.
Daeven felt an unbearable pain spread through his body, but compared to what he had endured in life… it was nothing.
Slowly, his body dragged across the floor, inching toward one of the glazed breads.
Seeing this, the baker—already enraged—completely lost control.
"How dare you ignore me?!"
He raised his stick again and brought it down violently on Daeven's back.
But even then… Daeven kept crawling.
He grabbed the bread with trembling hands.
The smell… the glaze… it overwhelmed his senses.
Tears began to fall from his eyes—not from sadness, nor even pain.
But from an unbearable, desperate joy.
Behind him, the baker continued shouting in rage, striking him again and again.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, you piece of trash!"
Again and again, the stick fell.
Daeven could feel his consciousness slipping.
But before he lost it completely, he shoved the bread into his mouth.
He bit down.
And in that instant—
He felt… full.
Completely, utterly satisfied.
Even as blows continued to rain down on him, he ate frantically, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
The baker, trembling with rage, stopped thinking rationally.
"How… how is he still ignoring me?!"
He tightened his grip on the stick.
This time… he raised it high above his head.
"I'll finish this. Even if the police come, I'll just say he tried to rob me!"
"I'll just say I acted in self-defense!"
"Yes… yes, that's it!"
With all his strength, he brought the stick down toward Daeven's head.
A deadly strike.
Daeven felt it.
He turned slowly.
And saw the blow descending at terrifying speed.
"…So this is how it ends," he thought calmly.
"I wanted to die eating something delicious… and instead I'm going to die because some old man snapped."
How cruel.
The stick closed in
And then
Everything stopped.
The weapon froze in mid-air.
The baker blinked.
"…Huh? What's going on?"
A voice echoed through the space.
Bright.
Mechanical.
Enthusiastic.
[ CONGRATULATIONS ]
[ YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED ]
[ YOU WILL BE SENT TO KAEYROS ]
"What? Wait—what are you—"
[ TRANSPORT IN 3 SECONDS ]
[ THREE… TWO… ]
"Stop! What is happening?! I—"
A blinding light exploded into existence.
The world was swallowed by brilliance.
And then
Silence.
When the light faded, Daeven was gone.
The baker stood there, frozen, his stick still suspended in the air for a moment… before dropping heavily to the ground.
"…What… what just happened?"
He looked around, stunned.
But there was no answer.
Only emptiness remained.