The One Behind You
“Useless! Do you understand a word I say?”
A thick stack of freshly printed documents hit Otashan in the face and shoulder, then scattered across the floor. The sharp corner of a sheet caught her cheek, leaving a thin red scratch. The tapping of keyboards stopped for a moment, then resumed as though nothing had happened. No one looked up. No one wanted to meet her eyes.
Otashan stood in front of her supervisor’s desk, looking down at the papers around her feet. She said nothing.
“What did I tell you yesterday? Check the figures. Redo the attachments. The client wants the final version, not this garbage wasting my time!” He jabbed a finger at the documents, his voice loud enough for half the office to hear. “I want a new version before work tomorrow. Every figure, every attachment, every forecast. I don’t care how late you have to stay up. Don’t tell me you can’t finish it. I don’t want to hear it.”
She waited two seconds, then bent to pick up the sheets one by one. She wanted to shove that last sentence straight back down his throat.
Preferably with the whole stack of paper. In reality, she picked up the last sheet, straightened the battered pages, and held them against her chest.
“Understood.”
Apparently that still wasn’t enough. He gave a scornful laugh. “You always understand. Then you turn in work like this. We didn’t hire you to sit around collecting a paycheck. I want that email by eight tomorrow morning.”
Otashan nodded. One more word and she might actually lose her job. Back at her desk, the colleague beside her stole a glance at her, then hurriedly turned back to the screen. No one dared offer sympathy. Everyone in the department knew that when the supervisor was in a foul mood, someone had to suffer for it. Today it happened to be her.
She set the papers down and checked the time in the corner of her screen. 10:47 p.m. She had sat down at seven thirty that morning. She had eaten lunch at her desk, too. Her phone vibrated again. Another message from her supervisor.
[Redo the forecast.]
A second followed immediately.
[Check every figure in Attachment Three.]
Then a third.
[Before eight tomorrow.]
She stared at the screen for several seconds before replying.
[Got it.]
She no longer had the energy to be angry. At 11:20, she finally left the office. The buses and trains had stopped running hours ago. She stood outside the building, opened a ride-hailing app, and went silent for a full ten seconds when she saw the fare.
“Work to earn money. Spend it all getting home.”
She muttered the words and confirmed the ride anyway. It was almost midnight when she got home. She kicked off her heels by the door and couldn’t even be bothered to turn on all the lights. One small lamp in the living room would do. She dug yesterday’s leftover bread out of the fridge, took two bites without really tasting it, and carried her laptop and papers to the dining table.
At one in the morning, she was still sorting out the figures. At 1:47, Excel froze. She stared at the unresponsive screen, very nearly slamming the laptop shut. At 2:15, another message arrived.
[Include the figures from the same period last year.]
She read it and drew a slow breath.
“You’d better be sleeping like a baby.”
Even as she muttered it, she was already reopening the old files. By 2:51, the numbers were starting to blur. She propped her forehead in one hand and forced herself to check the last few spreadsheets. The coffee on the table had gone cold. She took a sip and grimaced at the bitterness, too tired to make another cup.
3:00.
Looking at the cursor, she realized she had been staring at the same number without checking a single figure.
“I can’t.”
She rubbed her eyes. Just a little more. There really was only a little left. Finish it, and she could sleep. She folded her arms on the table. Five minutes. She would put her head down for five minutes, then get back to work. She could set an alarm. The files weren’t going to sprout legs and run away.
She never even reached for her phone. The moment her forehead touched her arms, consciousness slipped away. The laptop stayed lit. The unfinished spreadsheet stayed open, the cursor blinking steadily.
* * *
A light rain was falling in the mountains. It drummed against the roof of an old wooden cabin. The lights were off. A kerosene lamp hanging on the wall offered the only illumination, its weak flame trembling in the draft and stretching the shadows across the floor.
The man’s screams had grown so hoarse they barely sounded human.
“Please… please… Aah!”
His hands were bound behind him with thick rope. He lay curled on the floor, his right leg useless. Blood ran out of his trouser cuff and gathered in a dark, sticky pool on the boards. He struggled backward until his shoulder hit the wall. With nowhere left to go, he could only stare at the person standing over him.
Zero looked down, a boning knife in his hand. The blade was short, narrow, and sharp. Blood had covered every trace of its silver edge.
The man shook his head, tears mixing with mucus. His voice shook. “I didn’t mean it back then! I swear I didn’t! Everyone was messing around. I just went along with them. I never thought it would turn out like that!”
Zero did not react. He crouched. All the color drained from the man’s face. He pressed himself desperately into the corner.
“No… no! Zero, please! I know I was wrong! I regretted it afterward, I really—Aaah!”
The blade sliced along his flesh. His body arched violently. A tearing scream burst from his throat. Zero’s hand remained steady, never pausing as the man thrashed. He worked along the wound as though attending to an ordinary chore, peeling back thin strips of flesh until blood dripped from his fingers.
The man was sobbing too hard to breathe.
“I didn’t lock the door! I swear! It was them! They said they wanted to scare you! I was just standing there. I didn’t do anything!”
Zero raised his eyes.
The man fell utterly silent. Zero looked at him, then back at the knife. The man shook harder and tried to shrink farther into the corner.
“I… I just didn’t help you…”
Zero lowered his head again. The point sank into the man’s stomach. His mouth opened. At first no sound came out. A few seconds later, a shrill scream ripped from his throat. The first stab. The second. The third.
His pleas grew weaker.
“I really… didn’t mean…”
At the fourth, his body stopped struggling. Zero watched for a few seconds, then let go. The corpse slumped onto its side. Blood dripped slowly from the knife’s point, one drop after another falling into the spreading pool at his feet. Outside, the rain continued. Zero stood and walked to the cabin’s broken window. Far away on the mountainside, a small light appeared among the dark trees.
Someone had just lit a campfire.
* * *
Cold moisture seeped through Otashan’s clothes and chilled her cheek. Frowning, she reached for her laptop before opening her eyes. Her hand sank into wet mud. Her eyes flew open.
“…?”
Black night spread above her. She was lying on muddy ground covered in fallen leaves, surrounded by trees too tall to see the tops of. Several meters away, a campfire burned. A few people stood beside it. Every face was unfamiliar.
Otashan sat up and looked at her hand. Mud covered her palm and cuff. She opened her mouth, glanced over the strangers by the fire, then at the trees behind her.
“…Where’s my apartment?”
No one answered.
Nearby, a young woman hugged herself, pale-faced as she looked around. A tall man kept checking his phone, unable to get the screen to turn on. Someone else had awakened without a word and was watching the gaps between the trees.
Otashan felt the employee badge hanging from her neck. She was still wearing the shirt she had worked overtime in.
Had she been kidnapped? What kind of kidnapper brought the company badge along?
An absurdly cheerful chime rang inside her head.
[DING!]
She went rigid.
A translucent window appeared in front of her without warning.
[Congratulations, player Otashan! You’ve suffered a sudden death!]
She stared at it for three seconds.
“…What?”
Two little bursts of colorful fireworks went off in the window.
[Your death from overwork has qualified you for the Survival Games! ;)]
For a moment, she could focus on only one word: “death.”
“Wait.”
[Hello, player!]
“What do you mean I’m dead?”
[Exactly what it says! ♡]
She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating. She pinched her arm and sucked in a breath at the pain.
“I was just asleep.”
[Correction: permanently asleep.]
“…”
Someone nearby swore. “Are you fucking kidding me? How could I be dead?”
Otashan turned her head. Apparently she wasn’t the only one hearing this. The System continued sending out cheerful notifications.
[Complete all games to receive the following rewards!]
[One chance at resurrection]
[Cash prize: 100,000,000]
She had still been wondering whether this was a dream. That last string of digits stopped her.
“A hundred million?”
[That’s right!]
“Really?”
[No tricks. Guaranteed! ♡]
She checked the hundred million twice. Three hours ago she had been losing sleep over that miserable report. Well, she was dead now. At least the benefits were better.
The System chimed again.
[Your starter pack has arrived! Please claim it promptly!]
Her spirits lifted a little. A survival game ought to provide something useful in a starter pack. Weapons. Medicine. Food. Even a fruit knife would be better than nothing.
Following the instructions, she opened her inventory.
[Congratulations! You have received—]
[Lingerie × 100 sets]
Her smile faded.
She tapped the item, closed the inventory, and opened it again. Still a hundred. There was even a tiny pink heart beside the entry.
She stared at it for a long time.
“System.”
[Here for you! ♡]
“What am I supposed to do with this in a survival game?”
[Players are encouraged to discover creative uses for their items!]
“No knives?”
[No.]
“Medicine?”
[No.]
“Food?”
[No.]
“So I die, and you give me a hundred sets of lingerie?”
The System went silent for a second.
[Such a generous quantity! ♡]
She closed her eyes. Wonderful. That hundred million was starting to look a lot harder to earn.
A larger panel suddenly lit up in the middle of the camp.
The arguing stopped.
[Scenario loaded.]
[GAME 01]
[THE ONE BEHIND YOU]
Something seemed to move in the trees. Everyone who had been speaking fell silent.
The System continued.
[Players: 8]
[Location: Remote mountain campsite]
[Objective: Survive.]
[Roles assigned. Please confirm your role.]
Eight different cards appeared before the eight players.
Otashan looked down.
[Player: Otashan]
[Role: Organizer]
[Ten years ago, you organized this camping trip.]
There was nothing beneath it.
She frowned and tapped twice.
“That’s it?”
The System did not answer. Nearby, people were already announcing their roles.
“Driver.”
“Photographer.”
“Witness.”
“Survivor.”
“Classmate.”
“Friend.”
The last man’s face changed as he read his card, but he quickly closed the window. Otashan noticed. She didn’t ask. The others fell quiet, one after another. Eight people stood by the burning fire, keeping a cautious distance from one another. No one said anything more about their roles. When Otashan turned, she caught someone studying her. They immediately looked away.
She raised her eyes. At that same moment, the other seven looked at her.
Firelight flickered over their faces.
No one spoke.
