Rael opened his eyes slowly.
There was no ticking clock. No breeze. No scent. Just silence — dense, heavy silence — and a ceiling so white it felt sterile. He lay on a narrow metallic bed, staring blankly upward.
His body felt intact. No wounds. No pain. But also…. no memory. Not even his own name.
He sat up, wincing slightly from stiffness. The room was plain — sterile walls, soft white lighting, and a large mirror mounted across from the bed. No windows. Just one sealed door, smooth and seamless, like it had grown from the wall itself.
He stood up. The cold metal floor chilled his feet. Each footstep echoed faintly, as though he were inside something vast, hollow.
Rael walked toward the mirror.
Then stopped.
There was no reflection.
No—there was something, a vague silhouette. A blurry shape matching his posture: head, shoulders, arms. But it lacked any detail. No eyes. No mouth. No expression. Just a formless ghost of himself, lagging behind every movement by a fraction of a second.
He raised a hand.
The silhouette followed—slightly too late.
What is this… a glitch?
A soft voice, female and emotionless, echoed from nowhere.
"Welcome, Commander of Zone-9. Your designation is Rael. You have been chosen."
He spun around. No speakers. No cameras. Just the voice in the air, cool and mechanical.
"Chosen? For what?"
"To lead. To preserve. To build."
"Lead who?"
"999 citizens are under your command. You will define the structure, system, and moral framework of this civilization. The first cycle begins in two hours"
"And if I refuse?"
"Refusal is not permitted. You have already been chosen"
Rael turned back to the mirror. This time, it began to shift — like fog clearing off glass.
His face slowly appeared.
A young man in his mid-twenties. Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. Silver-white hair, slightly tousled and untamed. His skin was pale, unblemished, almost artificial. One eye shimmered a soft, glowing blue, while the other pulsed with a faint white aura, as if some quiet energy coiled beneath the surface.
He wore a modern military-style uniform: fitted black and ash-gray, minimalistic but clearly high-tech. No insignias. No rank. Just a small hexagonal emblem glowing faintly on his chest.
He studied himself, uneasy. Not because he looked strange, but because it didn't feel like him. Like the reflection belonged to someone else.
Then he saw it.
A hairline crack on the corner of the mirror.
He was sure it wasn't there before.
Two Hours Later
Rael walked through the heart of the city.
The world outside the room was… too perfect. Streets clean enough to eat from. Buildings arranged in flawless symmetry. Trees perfectly pruned. Flowers in full bloom, untouched by wind or insects.
People moved through the streets, all smiling, all dressed neatly. They greeted him with the exact same tone of voice, the same facial expressions, as if reading from a script.
"Good morning, Commander"
"Lovely day today, sir"
"Blessings upon Zone-9"
Children ran past him, laughing in unison. Their feet struck the pavement at precisely timed intervals.
Rael frowned.
This doesn't feel real.
He stopped by a flower shop. Resting his hand against the cool glass window, he stared at his faint reflection. But in the glass, behind him… stood another shape. A blurred, dark figure watching from behind.
He turned sharply.
No one was there.
And yet—
Beneath his hand, near the edge of the window frame, he noticed something: a thin metal panel embedded in the sidewalk.
Tiny text etched into it read:
Access code :09X//Authorized only
Rael crouched down and pressed his palm to it.
Click.
The panel slid aside, revealing a concealed spiral staircase descending into darkness.
He hesitated only a moment, then stepped into the unknown.
Cold air rushed up from below, biting and metallic. The deeper he went, the more sterile everything felt — as if this place hadn't seen a living soul in years. A door waited at the bottom. Seamless. Silent.
Then it opened on its own.
Inside: a control room bathed in soft blue light.
Dozens of screens filled the far wall, displaying maps, graphs, surveillance footage. In the center: a rotating hologram of what looked like a globe — or some simulated version of one.
Ten Zones.Ten Commander.
On the screen, he spotted the designations:
Zone-2:Aris-Stable
Zone-7:Liora-Stable
Zone-2:Status-Terminated
He stepped closer, reading the alert flashing on the screen.
SIMULACRA LAW INATED
— Every 30 days, the lowest-ranking zone based on moral integrity and stability will be eliminated.
— All citizens and their Commander will be erased from existence.
— No warnings. No appeals.
Rael felt his chest tighten.
This isn't a game. It's an execution chamber.
Hidden Archive — Log Entry #001
In a dusty corner of the control room, he discovered an inactive console. After a few taps, a hidden audio file activated.
It was a man's voice. Ragged. Exhausted. Faintly familiar.
"This isn't just an experiment. It's a judgment."
They said we were chosen to build a better world — but they never told us whose rules we're following."
"If you're hearing this…. then I failed.
And you've taken my place"
The audio cut out.
Rael stood motionless. Cold sweat ran down the side of his face.
I'm not the first.
He turned back to the screens. His own face appeared — a live feed.
But in the reflection on the monitor, just over his shoulder…..
He saw it again.
A shape.
Watching.
Not recorded. Not part of the room. Just standing there in the reflection, silent.
Return to the Mirror
Rael returned to the white room.
The mirror now reflected him fully — and with alarming clarity. He looked at himself: the pale skin, the mismatched eyes, the unfamiliar uniform. A stranger staring back.
And yet, the had crack in the mirror had grown.
It spiderwebbed outwards now, faint but visible.
He reached toward it again.
The air around him shifted — heavy. As if someone was there.
A voice, not from a speaker, but from somewhere deeper.
Inside his own mind.
"You are the final Commander"
"And this is not a world you can escape"
"This is a world you must shape"