Chapter 1: Countdown
Seven hours remained.
07:00:00
The countdown was waiting for Lila when she opened her eyes, hanging quietly at the edge of her vision like a digital countdown that had no place in the real world.
She blinked, rubbed her eyes, then looked again. The numbers never disappeared. They remained fixed in place, silently ticking down one second at a time.
06:59:46
Lila stared at them for several seconds before settling on the only explanation that made any sense.
She had stayed up far too late playing computer games. Too little sleep. Her exhausted brain was probably playing tricks on her.
Convinced she had solved the mystery, she rolled over, pulled the blanket over her head, and promptly went back to sleep.
The next time she woke, the persistent buzzing of her phone dragged her out of bed.
Emily.
Lila answered with a sleepy groan.
“Lila… can we meet today?”
Something in Emily’s voice immediately swept away the last traces of drowsiness. She sounded anxious, as though she had been forcing herself to stay composed for a long time.
“What happened?”
“I… I’ll explain when we meet.”
Almost instinctively, Lila glanced toward the corner of her vision.
01:06:42
The countdown was still there.
“…Fine,” she sighed. “The café downstairs. Twenty minutes.”
Lila stirred her coffee while the café buzzed with quiet conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain.
00:36:42
“Lila?”
She didn’t respond immediately, still caught in the bending light.
“Lila!” A hand waved impatiently in front of her face, snapping her back.
Lila flinched, her focus finally landing on Emily Cross. Emily was leaning back in her chair, her brows knitted together in growing concern.
“Sorry,” Lila muttered, reaching for her cup. “What were you saying?”
“You’ve done that three times now,” Emily said, studying her so intently that Lila looked away. “Are you even in there? Because I really need your help with this.”
Lila smiled automatically. “I’m here now, I promise. Go ahead.”
Emily hesitated, her fingers tightening around her latte. Something about her voice made the countdown flicker.
“It’s Daniel. He’s… he’s changed, Lila. He barely slept, had stopped showing up to class, and spent every night watching these bizarre experimental theater recordings—silent films, strange avant-garde pieces, things that barely even had a plot. And then there were the people he was meeting. People I didn’t recognize, and he wouldn’t tell me a single thing about them.”
00:04:00.
“People don’t change like that overnight, Em,” Lila said, though even she heard the emptiness in her own voice.
“Not like this. It was like a switch had flipped overnight. He used to be so reserved, so quiet. Now he’s… intense. Restless. It’s like he’s tuned to a different frequency, like he’s waiting for something only he can see.”
The countdown stuttered for half a second.
Lila’s attention drifted again. The digits were pulsing now, their edges blurring into a frantic flicker. For a split second, the numbers accelerated, smearing into a white streak of light before snapping back to their steady rhythm.
She gripped her lukewarm coffee tighter, the ceramic cold against her palms.
“Did he hurt you?” she asked, her voice sharper than she had intended.
Emily blinked, startled.
“What? No, nothing like that. He’d never—it’s just… I’m scared for him.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I thought your brother might know something about this—occult cases, urban legends. I used to think it was all nonsense, but right now, I don’t have a better explanation for what’s happening to Daniel.”
00:03:00.
“I’ll ask him,” Lila promised, though she knew her brother’s “connections” were the last thing she should have been worrying about right then. “No guarantees, but I’ll see what he says.”
Emily’s shoulders sagged with relief.
“Thank you, Lila. That’s all I ask.”
Lila nodded, but the world had already begun dissolving around the edges.
The numbers weren’t just ticking anymore; they were malfunctioning.
The minutes and seconds vanished, leaving only a single frozen display:
00:02:00.
It lingered for a heartbeat too long before the entire countdown lurched into freefall.
01:59… 58… 57…
The world didn’t break.
It corrected itself around her.
It seemed to be waiting for her to realize it was watching her back.
The chairs twisted into impossible angles, the sunlight turned into an overexposed white glare, and the people around her stopped looking entirely human whenever she tried to focus on them.
“Lila?”
Emily’s voice had become a distant, metallic echo.
“I’m fine,” Lila lied, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
The countdown blurred again, minutes disappearing in greedy chunks until the digits finally froze into a terrifying certainty.
00:01:00.
Silence swallowed the café.
Every detail sharpened: the beads of condensation on her glass, a hairline crack in the tabletop, the sound of her own breathing.
“If you had one minute left,” she asked quietly, “what would you notice first?”
Emily frowned.
“That’s a morbid question, Lila. Why would you even ask that?”
“Just answer me.”
“I don’t know.” Emily gave a nervous laugh. “Panic? Call my mom? What’s going on with you?”
Lila didn’t answer.
She simply watched the seconds bleed away.
30. 29. 28.
The light shifted from bright to blinding.
It was as though an invisible hand were wiping the world away.
Emily was still talking, her lips moving in slow motion, but no sound reached Lila.
The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and something ancient.
10. 9. 8.
The countdown distorted violently, the numbers folding inward until they collapsed under their own weight.
Lila took one last slow breath.
3. 2. 1—
A blinding white light erupted from the core of the dial, expanding into a massive cocoon of light that enveloped her completely. When she opened her eyes again, the familiar room was gone, replaced by a place she had never seen before.
Lila looked around. It looked like a theater, with wooden floorboards, closed curtains, and a vast auditorium. A cursory glance suggested it was no different from an ordinary theater in the real world.
She pulled her phone from her pocket. Predictably, there was no signal. Lila opened the camera app and snapped a photo of the theater. The resulting image was nothing but darkness.
Recalling the recent investigation report on Daniel, Lila thoughtfully slid the phone back into her pocket.
“Welcome to the Theater of the Absurd, our lovely prospective member.” A rasping voice came drifting closer. “A first piece of advice from your guide: you had best keep your hands to yourself.”
A very short clown approached with his hands clasped behind his back. Lila could swear this was the most bizarre clown she had ever seen. Picture this: a hunchbacked old man, less than a meter tall, walking toward you in full clown makeup. Lila figured the old clown wasn’t even as tall as her legs.
“You seem to be having some rather rude thoughts.” Sensing something, the clown’s smile vanished, replaced by a sudden chill.
Unfazed, Lila met his gaze evenly. “Just a math problem, really.”
She’d merely been comparing the clown’s actual height with the length of her own legs. Using his privileges as a guide, the clown’s face twitched visibly.
Damned math problem!
For the first time, he found the ability to perceive a newcomer’s mental state in the rookie’ theater entirely superfluous. The clown adjusted his expression, attempting to steer the conversation back on track. “You must be wondering why you are here.”
“Because I’m a chosen child, destined to shoulder the burden of saving the world?” Lila offered solemnly.
The clown ignored her. “Because you have been chosen by the Theater of the Absurd.” He pointed his short index finger downward. “You will become an actor here, portraying another entity within the bizarre settings provided by the theater, and completing the scripts and tasks assigned to you.”
He spoke rapidly, giving Lila no time to ask questions. “Once the performance ends, a specialized evaluation body within the theater will score the members who are still alive.”
Alive? One word immediately caught Lila’s attention.
Noting her expression, the clown added maliciously, “This theater does not restrict any acts of bloodshed or violence. We provide no stunt doubles, no fake stunts, and guarantee an authentic presentation of every hazardous scenario.” He split his thick, blood-red lips into a grin. “For the sake of artistic continuity, no rescue operations will occur during a performance. Even if a participant meets an unfortunate end, our theater is only responsible for collecting the trash.”
Lila unfastened the watch from her wrist. “I have just one question. Is coercion your usual recruitment strategy?”
Feeling he had successfully regained the upper hand, the clown explained cheerfully, “Generally speaking, we’re not usually this forceful, but you happen to be an exception.”
He left the nature of the exception unexplained. Having dragged Lila here without her ever seeing a dialogue box or clicking “Yes,” he simply stared at her with cloudy eyes brimming with spite. Those eyes clearly conveyed a single message: It’s just your damn bad luck!
“Is that so?” Giving an ambiguous smile, Lila weighed the expensive watch in her hand before throwing it with a flick of her wrist.
The watch traced a silver arc through the air, striking the closed curtains with perfect accuracy. The moment it drew close, a milky-white barrier of light intercepted it.
Meeting the clown’s suddenly blank expression, Lila shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t care for tutorials, so I wanted to see if I could hit ‘skip’.” Her lips curved upward, a flash of deep-seated defiance surfacing on her beautiful face. “But given how much you bark, I expected something a little more impressive. Turns out you’re nothing special.”
With that, a flash of white light flashed across Lila’s body. Just like the previous teleportation scene, the white light expanded, wrapping her inside a cocoon.
Interesting.
Recovering himself, the clown’s chest heaved. He hadn’t encountered such an intriguing newcomer in a very long time. Whether it was the remarkable talent she demonstrated through her remarkable mental aptitude or the arrogant soul beneath her calm exterior, it sent a thrill through him. He found himself wanting to see her survive.
“Remember, only participants who provide a high enough absurdity value become the theater’s favorites.” The clown’s smile widened. “Of course, if you can become the finest among all participants, you will receive a special reward beyond your compensation. Consider this a special tip for a newcomer. Don’t disappoint me.”
