Glimmering lights poured down onto the crowd below, flickering with a certain cheapness, unnoticed by the prisoners. They were too lost in their grief, too silent. Despite the thousands gathered, only the soft giggles of a young girl broke through—serene, as if she were lying in a field of flowers, gazing up at a cloudless sky.

The crowd, once blank-faced, shifted their gazes upward, drawn in by her sound. They longed to feel her joy, to taste even the briefest glimpse of happiness. The girl skipped onto the stage, the wind following her every movement, acknowledging her beauty.

Her voice rang clear, a smile curving her lips. "Lahela," she said, each word holding the audience captive. "That is the name you will dedicate your life to." Her eyes gleamed, as though hiding every secret of the world. "Your hopes, dreams, and goals?" Her voice softened, as if whispering to their innermost desires—the ones they would never speak aloud.

"Throw them away. Live only for me."

She was no angel, no innocent lamb. I knew the truth of this world—one I had tried to deny, over and over. Yet it always led back here, to this moment.

The future where I die.

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3 DAYS AGO

Hao had always felt an underlying hatred for his family. Why was it that he had to struggle for their cowardice? His entire life had been spent on the filthy streets of the 4th district.

If they had any mind for him, they would have entered an instance and gotten him out of this hellhole.

With the sun disappearing, mother was going to be upset if he was late for dinner.

Carefully, he picked apart the debris, looking for any faulty props he could sell. A piece of newspaper drenched in a foul-smelling liquid caught his eye.

Hao squinted to make out the text printed on the front, though he didn't need to guess. Every newspaper said the same thing: how a child prodigy had appeared in District 4 with a system panel of A+.

Just looking at it made his stomach churn with bitterness.

Nearby, a glint of light caught his attention—a candle wedged into the rubbish. The vintage design, lined with silver edges that were still intact, looked pristine. A find like this could fetch a pretty penny.

Excited, Hao reached out to grab it. A system prompt appeared above the candle.

[Candle]

When lit, the candle will burn.

Rating: F+

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Hao's initial excitement was quickly replaced by embarrassment. He should've known better than to hope for a high-level prop. Only damaged or useless items ended up in this dump. Still, the fact that it was a prop at all would double its price.

Pocketing the candle, he pulled his hood low, obscuring his face as he walked past the meat vendors and smugglers. He glanced briefly at their wares: ribs, eyes, thighs, and other body parts.

Tomorrow, he would sell the prop and, hopefully, buy a sturdy blanket for the coming winter.

He wove through the maze of alleyways until he reached home. It was tucked into a corner, mold clinging to the doorframe. The stench of rot grew stronger as he approached.

Hao opened the door, stepping inside and navigating the clutter of glass bottles scattered across the floor. His foot crunched onto another newspaper, but he ignored it and rounded the corner into the living room.

The house was in its usual state of disarray, the floor invisible beneath the mess. His mother, Di Xuanlan, stood behind a counter, smiling brightly. The flickering light overhead cast speckles of light onto her high cheekbones. She looked at him with warmth in her eyes.

"Take a seat," she hummed, gesturing for him to wait while she prepared dinner.

"Did you find anything, Hao?" she asked softly.

"No," he lied, guilt pricking at his conscience. He'd rather keep the money for himself than share it.

As she minced meat with practiced skill, Hao took the time to observe her. She looked more disheveled than usual—chunks of hair missing from her scalp and fresh wounds littering her body. They must have fought back, he thought. But judging by the meat on the counter, they hadn't gotten far.

He sat at the rickety wooden table, the chair creaking beneath him. Time passed slowly until his mother finally finished cooking. The rich aroma of tender meat filled the air. Hao blinked away his drowsiness as she placed a plate before him.

The steak glistened with grease, bits of hair poking out from the edges. They'd be a hassle to pick out later. A bright green eyeball sat beside the steak as an appetizer.

Together hand in hand, they prayed for the body that provided this sustenance.

Hao glanced at the food before him, stomach turning. She had really gone all out tonight. He couldn't remember the last time she'd put this much effort into their meals.

Then he noticed something—there should have been a third plate.

"Where's Father?" Hao asked, turning to his mother. Even during his busiest hours, Father never missed a meal.

Di Xuanlan snapped her gaze to him. Something about her felt off, though he couldn't quite place it.

"Eat, Hao."

Her voice was sharp, commanding. She watched his every move, unyielding, until he finally took a bite. Only then did she return to her own plate, savoring the meal with an almost reverent expression.

Hao grumbled under his breath as he toyed with the food. Why was she being so pushy today?

He picked up the eyeball, squeezing it between his fingers. It was always hard to stomach—too mushy and snot-like. He stared into the bloodshot iris, its yellow edges betraying a smoking addiction. The vibrant green streaked with red was unmistakable. There was only one person he knew with this eye color.

Eating human meat had never gotten easier, but there were only two choices: starve or eat.

This was one of the many reasons Hao hated his family. They had the courage to kill others but not to risk their own lives in an instance. That cowardice had relegated them to the 4th district—a place for criminals and outcasts who defied the system's rules.

It was kill or be killed here.

Staring at the eyeball on his plate and the brown hair sticking out of the steak, he knew this was his fathers meat and flesh.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to demand answers from his mother, to ask why she had killed his father. But instead, he looked her in the eye and smiled.

"This is delicious, Mother," he said.

Lying and pretending—it was the only reason he'd survived this long.

The lights flickered once more, illuminating the small, decrepit room. From the outside, they looked like an ordinary family enjoying a late dinner together.

Small smiles adorned their faces as they exchanged polite small talk, masking the horror he felt underneath.