The moment I stepped into the hall, a voice spoke inside my head—
Flat.
Dry.
Like it would rather be anywhere else.
"Good evening. Morning. Night. Pick one."
A pause.
"I've been assigned to you. Try not to die immediately."
Another pause.
"…or do. Less work for me."
…
I slowed slightly, glancing over my shoulder.
"What," I said, very carefully, "was that?"
"Oh," he replied at once, voice soft and perfectly polite, "that would be your assigned system, sir."
Sir.
I frowned. "…My what?"
He gave a small, apologetic smile. The kind that felt rehearsed.
"I'd be happy to explain," he said gently, "however, each answer carries a cost."
I blinked.
"You're charging me for information?"
"Of course, sir." Still smiling. "Nothing here is provided without value in return."
That tone—
sweet enough to rot teeth.
"And what exactly am I supposed to pay with?" I asked.
His gaze lingered on me for a moment, thoughtful.
"Something you won't miss," he said lightly.
That was not comforting.
Not even a little.
I let out a quiet breath and looked ahead again.
The hall stretched forward, wide and sterile, the air too clean, too controlled.
At some point, I realized I was already walking.
…Right.
I didn't question it.
We stopped in front of a glowing blue circle embedded into the floor.
He stepped onto it first, posture straight, movements precise.
I followed a second later.
No hesitation.
The moment my foot touched the circle—
the world snapped.
A sharp pull twisted through me, like reality had briefly lost its patience.
My vision blurred, stretched—
My stomach dropped.
And then—
everything slammed back into place.
I staggered forward slightly, catching myself.
When my vision cleared, I froze.
A stadium.
Massive. Towering rows stretching upward like something built for a crowd that never arrived.
Or one that didn't need to.
Below, scattered across the field, stood dozens—maybe hundreds—of people.
All dressed the same.
White.
Clean. Uniform. Identical.
And behind each of them—
someone in black.
Still.
Watching.
I turned slightly.
He stood behind me now.
Black uniform.
Same as the others.
Perfectly composed.
Like he'd always been part of that line.
…Okay.
That was new.
"Let's stay optimistic," I muttered under my breath.
A beat.
"I'm clearly just a very rich person with severe mental issues."
Another beat.
"In a very expensive hospital."
I glanced at the crowd again.
"…Because realistically, what rich person isn't a criminal?"