Half-asleep, her voice cracked the silence:

  “Dad… why don’t you wake me up? I’m gonna be late to school…”

  Luna’s eyelids fluttered. The grey ceiling greeted her again flat, lifeless, and cold.

  A sinking chill soaked through her thin sweatsuit and curled into her bones like a second skin.

  She didn’t move .

  “…Dad? …Mom?”

  The names slipped out weaker this time, just a murmur. But calling them gave her something to hold on to. Just whispering their names made her chest ache less like she was still real. Like they could still hear her.

  She didn’t know what time it was. How long had she been asleep? A few minutes? Hours? Days?

  Then her stomach let out a loud, pitiful growl.

  Rrrrgh…

  Her eyes blinked wider in surprise. Hunger? In hell?

  Was she… alive?

  But that hope crumbled fast. There were no doors. No windows. No light besides the cold fluorescent glare above.

  No exits.

  No visitors.

  No way to call for help.

  She was going to starve.

  Slowly.

  Agony .

  And Alone.

  Her breath hitched as she curled into herself, hugging her flat belly. The aching twist inside made her vision blur.

  She tried to sleep again, even if it meant escaping the pain just for a little while.

  But hunger gnawed at her like a living thing. Every breath felt like chewing glass.

  Time crawled.

  Seconds. Minutes. Hours.

  She didn’t know anymore.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Then—

  DING.

  A clean mechanical chime echoed through the room.

  Her head jerked up.

  A small hatch had opened near the wall—she hadn’t even noticed it before. A tray slid out onto the floor, as if summoned by a game command.

  She stared, mouth slightly open.

  Food.

  Her eyes widened. Her brain barely processed it.

  A metal tray. Cafeteria-style. A sandwich—cut into halves. A tiny milk carton. A small scoop of dried fruit. Nothing fancy. No utensils.

  But right now—it was heaven. A micracle !

  She scrambled forward, dragging herself with her arms, no time to process dignity or despair. The smell hit her like a dream warm bread, egg, a hint of sausage.

  Her fingers trembled as she picked up the sandwich.

  And then, she bit in.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks uninvited.

  It wasn’t delicious. It was just… familiar. The exact kind of meal she used to eat in her school cafeteria. Bland but warm. Dry but real. In her old life, she ate this every day without a second thought.

  Now, it tasted like survival.

  Luna ate slowly—carefully—savoring every bite as if it were her last. She chewed the bread, the slightly greasy meat, the powdery egg. She drank the milk straight from the carton. Dry fruits—chewy and sour—were picked clean, one by one.

  She didn’t leave a single crumb.

  And when she placed the tray down on the ground, the room hummed.

  In a blink—it vanished. Tray, carton, and all.

  Just gone. Like a video game system had quietly registered a completed task.

  Luna sat still for a long moment, staring at the empty spot.

  “…What is this place?”

  Her stomach stopped growling. For now. But she knew this meant something—someone or something was watching.

  This video game behavior and the cafeteria meal, something about it feel very familiar.

  And suddenly… her blood ran cold with realization.

  She recognized this system.

  The cafeteria meal . The grey room walls.

  The sweatsuit mark with number.

  This was her game.

  The one she made when she free after school.

  Her unfinished game project.

  A twisted dungeon tower survival

  game .

  The Moon Tower is a vertical mega-dungeon with 100 levels.

  The one she made for fun—only Male avatars allowed.

  Moon Tower is a brutal dark world-building, dark humor, and soul-crushing mechanics.

  And now she was in it.

  As a disabled number Zero.

  Luna sat frozen on the cold concrete floor, back against the grey wall, the echo of her own breath loud in the silence.

  Her hands were shaking.

  Her body slumped, her legs—what legs?—numb ghosts below her waist.

  Her chest rose and fell with growing panic.

  “This… really..this is my game.”

  The words were barely a whisper, but saying them out loud made them real.

  The silence.

  It was Moon Tower.

  It was little girl meal before the fight.

  It was the timer on the edge of the wall.

  It was a hardcore survival game where core randomized by design.

  A 100-floor levels of nightmare filled with: Massive theme map. Brutal traps .Monstrous bosses.

  And one more rule: Only boys between the ages of 18–30 were selected to competed

  Because she though whole concept of a Boys’ Love death game sound fun.

  Maybe some Romantic obsession .Emotional breakdowns.Life-or-death sacrifices along the line, if she have time for fan-fiction, she though!

  And this world only have Boys .

  No girls. No kids. No Elder and No mercy.

  But now she was scout inside it. But How?

  Maybe there a mistake? Maybe there a glitch?

  Luna face twisted in horror. She was female in a system that rejected women.

  She was 14 years old—the underage youngest in a world of violent adult men.

  And worse—she was disabled. Her legs were gone. She couldn’t walk. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t escape!

  And she remembered the floors.The trials.The monsters.She knew what was coming.Because she created all of it.

  Luna pressed her forehead to the cold wall and let out a shaking breath. Her stomach still twisted from hunger and fear.

  “Why… why me? Why did you pick me ?”

  “ Because I created it? But I just having some fun making it .”

  And the cruelest part? She thought maybe it wasn’t a glitch.

  No. It was her karma .

  She made this world a trap.

  Now, she was trapped inside it.

  Her body began to tremble again—not from the cold, but from dread. She was no longer the god of this world. She was just one of its helpless victims.