Milo led Lila through a narrow, shadowy passage, the air growing damp and cold. Ahead stood a rusted iron door, its surface faintly etched with blurred words: “No Entry.”

  Milo took a deep breath and shoved the door open. A thick stench of decay hit them like a wall.

  The sight before them left Lila too stunned to move—an enormous space unfolded, dark and wet, the light so faint it was nearly impossible to make out. The air reeked, a mix of metal and blood.

  As her eyes adjusted, she saw it: a towering pile of corpses and wreckage stacked layer upon layer into a horrifying mountain of death. The ground was littered with mangled mechanical limbs, charred exam papers, blood-stained ID bracelets, and tattered uniforms.

  “What… what is this?” Lila whispered, her voice almost trembling. “Why are there so many bodies here?”

  “This is the base of Sky Tower,” Milo said calmly, his tone laced with sorrow and mockery. “Or rather, beneath what they call the ‘Ladder of Fate.’”

  Lila looked up, a faint, distant beam of light piercing down from the tower’s peak, like a barely visible thread of hope. Only now did she realize that all these bodies were people who’d fallen from above.

  “Climbing the tower… what kind of exam is that?” Lila asked, incredulous.

  Milo sighed. “Technically, it’s not part of the official Federation Qualification Exam. But anyone who fails that exam too many times gets an official notice—there’s a special test called the ‘Ladder of Fate.’ If you can climb to the top, all your failed records get wiped clean, and you’re instantly granted the resources, status, and honor the Federation Company promises.”

  He paused, his voice dropping low as he went on, “The ones who hit a dead end in the regular exams, or those desperate for a comeback, they all end up choosing to come here for one last gamble.”

  Lila’s eyes widened, staring at the wreckage in disbelief. “How could they fall for such a ridiculous lie? They just believe whatever the Federation Company says? That’s too stupid!”

  Her usual sharpness was gone, replaced by deep incredulity.

  Milo gave a bitter laugh and pointed at a nearby wall. “Go take a look—you’ll get it.”

  Lila followed his gaze and walked over. The wall was plastered with vibrant posters and a massive electronic screen, endlessly looping a dazzling propaganda reel:

  “Welcome to the Ladder of Fate—this is your chance!”

  Onscreen, successful climbers stood atop the tower in lavish clothes, gazing down at the world below, waving and smiling. Their faces glowed with triumph, every inch of their skin radiating health and wealth. Extravagant sky restaurants brimmed with gourmet feasts, crystal chandeliers clinking with toasts; high-altitude pools rippled with blue waves, young men and women splashing playfully; floating entertainment hubs blazed with lights, laughter ringing out; luxurious homes had it all, every detail screaming unmatched opulence and refinement.

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  It was all meticulously crafted—colors, composition, every element screaming one message: the bliss of success, the end of failure.

  The footage froze, a bold slogan fading in, its golden letters shimmering:

  “Climb to the top, and all this will be yours!”

  In the next instant, the text morphed into something even more seductive:

  “Your failures aren’t forever—the Ladder of Fate, one shot to win it all!”

  Lila stared at the suffocatingly lavish scenes, slowly grasping why so many believed. The reel was polished, enchanting, brimming with hope—like a hypnotic spell, impossible to resist. Compared to the outside world’s cold rejection, this offered a fantasy, a possibility, a shred of hope—even if that hope was cruel and fake. People in despair will clutch at any straw, even if it’s just the gateway to another abyss.

  The propaganda kept rolling, upbeat music backing the close-up smiles of the “winners,” so near they seemed touchable. The stark contrast—bright screens against a dark corpse heap, fake laughter against real death—created a surreal, suffocating horror.

  “See?” Milo’s voice carried exhaustion. “They believe it not because they’re stupid, but because they’re desperate. Most of them spent years on the Federation Qualification Exam, worn to the bone, but they couldn’t let go. They saw this as their last shot, didn’t even dare let a speck of doubt creep in.”

  He paused, his voice quivering slightly. “My friends, neighbors, people I’d seen a dozen times—they all chose to climb. At first, the officials sent crews to clear the bodies, but there got to be too many—they couldn’t keep up. So the corpses just piled up, layer after layer.”

  Lila noticed where Milo pointed—a body, its face unrecognizable, but pinned to its clothes was a small mechanical badge, like the ones the kids at the fight pit wore. She pictured that unknown kid, once as lively as Milo today, thrilled at mech battles, sharing the joy of creation, only to be lured by this false hope and end up here. The thought twisted her heart like a knife.

  Lila looked around, her chest growing heavy as lead, the suffocation nearly crushing her. Her gaze cut through the shadows of death to a dazzling gate at the propaganda’s entrance. That door didn’t belong in this world—it shimmered with pure white light, like a portal to paradise. Above it, in elegant, hopeful script, read: "Gate of Dreams." Beyond it lay the climbing stairs and ladders, blindingly bright, clean, and beautiful—a radiant path to rebirth.

  But behind it all was this ghastly pile of carnage. The other side of that ornate gate was the ultimate end of despair and death. The contrast was too stark, heartbreaking.

  She turned back, staring straight at the twisted, broken bodies—the still-wet blood, the frozen looks of terror, the scattered personal items: photos, notes, necklaces—shards of lives bearing witness to every lost dream. Fear and rage filled her eyes, burning like fire. “This is insane… The Federation Company just lies this blatantly? How can they? There are hundreds, thousands of people here!”

  Milo spoke, calm yet seething with grief and fury. “Everyone knows people fall, but they choose to look away. They’d rather believe in the reel’s luxury and glitz than face the brutal truth. It’s not just the exams—the whole world runs on lies.”

  Lila fell silent, feeling her beliefs crumble bit by bit. She’d never seen the Federation Company’s pretty illusions and their horrific truth so rawly laid bare.

  “That’s why I hate exams, hate the Federation Company, hate all the lies in this world,” Milo whispered, his voice soft but brimming with unmasked pain and anger. “Otis never told me about this, but I found out a long time ago… I just don’t know how to tell him.”

  Lila looked back at the boy, truly understanding his rage and helplessness for the first time. Her eyes swept over the fake smiles and lavish scenes on the wall again, her gut churning with disgust.

  “Let’s go,” Lila said quietly. “I don’t want to see this place anymore.”

  They turned and left the grim heap of corpses and lies masquerading as “dreams,” but Lila knew it’d be etched in her forever. She realized she could no longer brush off this world like she used to.

  As they stepped out of that chilling passage, the propaganda reel still blared its cheerful false dreams and hopes behind them, waiting for the next wave of the desperate.

  “Welcome to the Ladder of Fate—this is your chance!”

  The fake paradise kept beckoning the next batch of lost souls, while the weight of truth would forever burden those who knew.