1:39 PM – The Second Defection

  The air in the dimly lit room was thick with tension. The group of men, all hardened criminals, sat around a scratched wooden table, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear.

  Kenta, a wiry man with a shaved head and tattoos snaking up his neck, was unraveling.

  His hands shook like leaves in a storm, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps, like he was drowning in the heavy silence of the room.

  Kenta’s voice cracked as he shouted, “What the actual f*ck is this? I’m not playing some sick game! I’m out of here!” His words echoed off the bare walls, sharp and desperate.

  The other men froze, their eyes darting to him. No one spoke. No one dared to. the mastermind behind this deadly game, had made that clear.

  But Kenta was past reasoning. His panic had taken over, and logic was nowhere to be found.

  Without waiting for a response, Kenta shoved his chair back, the legs screeching against the concrete floor. He bolted for the door, his boots pounding with every frantic step.

  The others watched, their hearts hammering in their chests. “Kenta, don’t!” one of them, a burly man named Taro, called out, but it was too late. Kenta was already at the exit, his trembling hand yanking the door open.

  As he crossed the threshold, a low, eerie hum filled the air, like the buzz of a distant swarm of bees. Kenta froze mid-step, his body stiffening. His phone, tucked in his pocket, vibrated violently, louder than it should have. The sound was unnatural, almost alive, as if it were screaming at him.

  “Shit! This phone—!” Kenta gasped, fumbling to pull the device from his pocket. His fingers shook so badly he nearly dropped it.

  The screen lit up, glowing an unnatural white, and then it happened—the hidden words, the ones Rei had planted, blared in his ears.

  They were words only Kenta could hear, a secret command woven into the game’s twisted rules.

  The others couldn’t hear them, but they saw the effect. Kenta’s eyes widened in terror, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

  He stumbled forward, clutching his chest. His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold pavement outside, his body twitching violently. The men inside rushed to the doorway, their faces a mix of horror and disbelief.

  Kenta’s chest heaved, his breaths shallow and desperate, as if he were fighting an invisible force crushing him. His fingers clawed at the ground, leaving faint scratches in the dirt.

  Then, with one final shudder, his body went still. His eyes stared blankly at the sky, and his heart stopped beating.

  The street was silent, save for the faint hum of Kenta’s phone, which lay beside him, its screen now dark.

  ---

  1:40 PM – Aizawa’s Realization

  Back inside, the remaining men stood frozen, their eyes locked on Kenta’s lifeless body. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as the reality of their situation sank in.

  Taro, the burly man, was the first to speak, his voice shaking. “What… what just happened? He just—he just died!” His words were heavy with fear, and he backed away from the door, as if death itself might follow them inside.

  Another man, a skinny guy named Riku with a scar across his cheek, clutched his own phone tightly, his knuckles white. " They’re… they’re controlling us.”

  The others murmured in agreement, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mix of panic and confusion. “What do we do?” one asked. “We can’t just sit here!” said another. The fear in the room was palpable, a living thing that wrapped around each man’s heart and squeezed.

  Aizawa, the group’s unofficial leader, stood apart from the others, his sharp eyes scanning the room. His face was grim, his jaw tight. He was older than the rest, with graying hair and a calm demeanor that hid the storm raging inside him.

  He’d been in tough spots before—prison, gang wars, betrayals—but nothing like this. This was different. This was Rei’s game, and Rei was always one step ahead.

  Aizawa raised a hand, silencing the group. “Calm down,” he said, his voice low but firm. “This is… this is just the beginning. But don’t mistake it for a game of chance.

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  Whoever is behind this is watching us. And they want us to die.” His words cut through the panic like a blade, sharp and cold. The men stared at him, their fear momentarily replaced by the weight of his realization.

  Taro shook his head, his voice rising. “Watching us? How? There’s no cameras, no nothing! How do they know what we’re doing?”

  Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. “The phones,” he said simply, holding up his own device. “They’re not just phones. They’re IT’s eyes, IT ’s ears. Every move we make, every word we say—they know.” He paused, letting the truth sink in. “Kenta tried to run. He broke the rules. And now he’s dead.”

  The room fell silent again, the men exchanging nervous glances. Riku’s hands trembled as he shoved his phone into his pocket, as if hiding it would protect him.

  Taro’s shoulders slumped, his bravado gone. Even the toughest among them, a quiet man named Haru who rarely spoke, looked shaken, his fists clenched at his sides.

  Aizawa’s mind was racing. He’d felt IT's control from the moment this game began—the cryptic messages, the rules that seemed to shift with every move.

  He knew they were trapped, like rats in a maze with no exit. But he also knew that panicking would only make things worse. They had to stay sharp, stay together, if they wanted any chance of surviving.

  ---

  1:45 PM – The Game Has Begun

  Aizawa clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his focus. The room was suffocating, the air heavy with the stench of fear and sweat.

  He looked at the men around him, their faces a mix of terror and defiance. They were criminals, used to bending the rules, but this was a game where the rules were unbreakable.

  “We stick together,” Aizawa said, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind. “No one leaves this room. Understand?”

  He locked eyes with each man, making sure they felt the weight of his words. “If we split up, we die. If we run, we die. We play this game, we follow the rules, until we figure out how to beat it.”

  Taro nodded slowly, though his hands were still shaking. Riku muttered something under his breath, his eyes darting to the door. Haru gave a curt nod, his face unreadable.

  The others followed suit, their agreement reluctant but necessary.

  But even as Aizawa spoke, a cold smile tugged at his lips. Deep down, he knew the truth. IT had already won.

  The game was rigged from the start, designed to break them, to pit them against each other until no one was left. Kenta’s death was just the first move, a warning to the rest. They were all just pieces on Rei’s board, waiting for their turn to fall.

  The men sat back down, their eyes fixed on their phones, waiting for the next message, the next rule. Outside, Kenta’s body lay still, a grim reminder of what happened to those who tried to escape. Inside, the air grew colder, the silence heavier.

  The game had begun, and there was no way out.

  Kenta’s death had shaken the group to its core. His collapse wasn’t just a random accident—it was GODS GRACE The men could still picture it: Kenta’s desperate run, the hum of his phone, the way his body jerked like a puppet with its strings cut. It was a scene burned into their minds, a warning they couldn’t ignore.

  The criminals’ fear was raw and unfiltered. Taro, usually the loudest and most confident, was reduced to a trembling mess, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor him.

  Riku kept muttering to himself, his words incoherent, his scar standing out starkly against his pale skin. Haru, the quiet one, stared at the floor, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. Each man was grappling with the same thought: That could’ve been me.

  Their conversations were frantic, disjointed. “What do we do now?” Taro asked, his voice cracking. “Just sit here and wait to die?” Riku shook his head, his eyes wild.

  Aizawa listened to their arguments, his mind working overtime. He knew they were right to be scared, but fear wouldn’t save them.

  “Enough,” he said, his voice sharp. “We don’t have time to argue. MASTERMIND IS watching, waiting for us to crack. If we lose our heads, we’re done.” He leaned forward, his eyes intense. “We need to think. Figure out the rules, find the patterns. There’s always a way out, even in a game like this.”

  But even as he spoke, doubt gnawed at him. Rei was unlike any enemy he’d faced before—faceless, omnipresent, always in control. Aizawa’s words were meant to rally the group, but they felt hollow. The truth was, he didn’t know if there was a way out. All he knew was that they had to keep moving, keep playing, until the end.

  The room fell quiet again, the men settling into an uneasy truce. Their phones sat on the table, silent for now, but each one was a ticking time bomb.

  Outside, the world went on, oblivious to the deadly game unfolding within these walls. But inside, time seemed to stop, every second stretching into eternity as they waited for Rei’s next move.

  Rei sat in his makeshift throne, an old leather chair positioned near the shattered window of the abandoned building. The afternoon sunlight seeped through the cracks, casting uneven patterns on the dusty floor.

  Outside, the world continued as usual—but inside this decayed structure, something far more dangerous was unfolding.

  His posture was relaxed, yet commanding. The chair’s worn leather pressed against his back, the armrests frayed from years of neglect. But in this moment, it wasn’t just an abandoned relic—it was a throne. And Rei, seated there like a ruler surveying his kingdom, was ready to unleash his next move.

  His gaze drifted lazily toward the opposite building, where the criminals had gathered. They thought they were safe, hidden behind walls thick with grime and secrecy. But safety was an illusion, and illusions were something Rei wielded with precision. He had spent time preparing for this moment—every detail accounted for, every possibility controlled.

  With quiet intent, he pulled out his phone, the screen glowing faintly against the dim light. His fingers moved fluidly over the device, tapping with calculated purpose. This wasn’t just a message. It wasn’t just a command. It was a carefully crafted strike that would spiral into something far greater.

  The criminals inside that building were already on edge, their nerves stretched thin by the inexplicable events unfolding around them. They questioned each sound, each movement. Suspicion gnawed at them, turning allies into enemies. It was exactly where Rei wanted them—drowning in uncertainty.

  A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he tapped the final confirmation. A small sound—just the softest beep—signaled the execution of his latest plan. Somewhere across the street, deep within the criminals’ hideout, a phone buzzed. A message. A command. A disruption.

  They wouldn’t know what hit them.

  Rei leaned back, resting his hand on the worn leather of his throne, watching the ripples of his strategy begin to unfold. He didn’t need to be present in their space to control them. His power lay in the unseen.

  The game is on .

  And they were already playing.

  Without knowing they had lost.

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