Haru's Tokyo apartment was a monument to decay. The dim glow of a single bulb flickered above, casting shadows over half-eaten cups of instant ramen, their greasy surfaces congealing in the stale air.
A cheap gaming chair sat in the corner, its fabric stained with crushed snack crumbs, while a laptop hummed faintly, streaming an anime he'd stopped caring about hours ago.
Unopened mail teetered on the edge of a cluttered desk, and laundry piles loomed like miniature mountains, threatening to collapse at any moment. The clock on the wall read 3:17 PM, but the world outside might as well not exist.
Sprawled across his bed in a worn hoodie, headphones slung loosely around his neck, Haru gripped a gaming controller, though the screen had long since gone dark. He scrolled aimlessly through videos on his phone, eyes glazing over as clips flickered by—none of them registering. Another day gone. Same food, same screen, same silence.
A half-eaten ramen cup sat perilously close to his laptop, its contents cold and uninviting. He glanced at it, unfazed. It'd get eaten eventually. His phone buzzed—a notification—but he ignored it, assuming it was another delivery scam. The screen dimmed, and he let it.
Then it happened.
A sharp, metallic ding sliced through the air. It wasn't from his phone, his laptop, or any device he owned. It came from inside his head.
Haru's eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, heart pounding—not from fear, but from sheer confusion. "...What the hell?"
A window materialized in mid-air, hovering inches from his face. It had no source, no cables, no projector—just a glowing rectangle with cold white letters on a dark interface.
[Ding! You have been successfully bound to the Stardom System.]
Haru blinked, once, twice, then pinched his eyes shut, half-expecting the thing to vanish. It didn't.
[Mission 001: Gain 10,000 followers within 72 hours.]
[Failure to complete mission will result in termination of existence.]
He stared at the floating message, mouth slightly parted. "Bound? Stardom… what now?"
His mind raced, grasping for logic. Okay, this is definitely some weird scam app. Maybe I'm hallucinating from sleeping too much. Or someone hacked my brain? Is that a thing? He snorted softly. Should I call someone? No. People already avoid me. This has to be fake. Definitely fake.
He reached out, fingers lazily swiping at the air to dismiss the window. Nothing happened. The text pulsed, unmoved.
"Guess I'm trending now," Haru muttered, his voice dripping with deadpan sarcasm. "Great. Probably for 'how to be dead by next weekend.'"
He rubbed his eyes and scanned the room, half-hoping it would offer an explanation. The ramen cups stared back, silent and useless. "Probably some app testing AR interfaces," he said to himself. "Yeah, augmented reality… or augmented stupidity."
The window flickered, and new text appeared.
[Are you ready to accept the mission?]
[Press ACCEPT to begin.]
Below it, two buttons materialized, glowing faintly:
✅ ACCEPT
❌ DECLINE
Haru's thumb hovered over the ❌ button for half a second, a smirk tugging at his lips. Then the system flashed again, the words sharp and menacing.
[Warning: Decline will be interpreted as refusal to participate. Result: Termination.]
The word Termination pulsed like a heartbeat, each flash heavier than the last.
Haru froze. Termination? Like… death? His smirk faded. What kind of scam app threatens you like this? If this is a prank, it's expensive. Someone's going to lose a lot of ramen money.
He almost laughed, but the sound caught in his throat, swallowed by a creeping nervousness. His fingers twitched, hovering over the buttons. Before he could make a choice, the room flickered. The lights dimmed and surged, like static crawling through the air. The floating window vanished.
Then his body jolted forward, as if gravity had twisted around him, yanking him toward the center of the room. The walls seemed to stretch—or maybe that was his imagination playing tricks. His heart thudded, and a new notification flashed, faster this time.
[Mission Start: You must now proceed to the audition hall.]
[Coordinates uploaded.]
[Prepare to compete.]
The world shifted.
One moment, Haru was in his apartment, surrounded by the familiar chaos of his life. The next, he was standing—not walking, just standing—in front of a massive stage.
Blinding lights seared his eyes, and the air buzzed with noise: chatter, laughter, the hum of cameras. A semi-circle of contestants surrounded him—some grinning with manic energy, others staring with cold intensity, a few already live-streaming to thousands of viewers on their phones.
A glowing sign blinked into existence before him:
"Welcome to Stardom Arena. Play or perish."
Haru blinked, his brain struggling to catch up. What the actual hell is this?
A girl with glitter-smeared makeup and a headset spun toward him, her grin so wide it looked painful. "You look like you're about to die already!" she chirped, her voice sharp and teasing. "Perfect for a starter trend!"
Haru's eyes narrowed, his deadpan instincts kicking in. "Yeah… death's trending these days."
She laughed, a high-pitched cackle that grated on his nerves. Her name tag read Yui, and her energy was like a sugar rush dialed up to eleven.
Another contestant, taller and half-hidden in the shadows, barely glanced his way. His name tag read Riku. "Survive long enough to regret it," he said, his voice calm but laced with something darker.
Haru's stomach twisted, but he forced a smirk. "Great. Already got my regrets lined up."
A mechanical voice boomed across the hall, cutting through the chatter like a blade.
[Your first challenge is simple: gain followers. You have 72 hours. The clock is now running.]
The hall's lights flashed, harsh and disorienting. A massive digital clock appeared above the stage, its numbers ticking down: 71:59:58… 71:59:57…
Haru stood frozen, caught between terror and absurd amusement. Why does this feel like the worst possible video game I'll never want to beat?
The crowd of contestants erupted into motion—some scrambling for their phones, others shouting into cameras, a few already performing bizarre stunts for invisible audiences. Haru's gaze drifted to the clock, then to the glowing sign: Play or perish.
He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, muttering under his breath. "Guess I'm a star now. Lucky me."
The clock ticked on, and the game—whatever it was—had begun.