"Azra?" Evan raised an eyebrow. "What kind of name is that? Hope it's not some weird temple run knockoff for toddlers."
Mr. Parker smirked. "Haha. Hilarious," he replied with a sarcastic edge. But seriously—I don't actually know what the game's about. Rather what's written on the back is… interesting."
He turned the box around and held it up. "It says: 'A wish will be granted to the chosen player who completes the quest. They may wish for anything—and it will come to pass. Except… they cannot resurrect the dead or kill another person.'"
Evan leaned closer, intrigued. "That's… oddly specific. Is that even possible?"
The box was old but oddly well-preserved. Sleek black casing, cool to the touch, with the word AZRA engraved across the surface in elegant, swirling silver letters—styled like a royal crest from some forgotten kingdom.
"There's no latch, no button, no seam to open it," Mr. Parker said. "Just the name… and that message on the back."
"So what do you mean by 'the game chooses its player'?" Evan asked,still doubting that such unrealistic rules can be applied to a game.
"Well," Mr. Parker began, "this part may sound a little crazy. But here goes. There's no way to open it manually. My dad told me that only the chosen player can unlock it. If it responds to your touch—it opens. If not, it stays sealed."
Evan squinted at him. "Wait… your old man knew about this thing?"
Mr. Parker nodded, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his face. "This game's been here since before I was even born. My father told me a traveler once came by the shop—back when he had just taken over from his uncle. The guy handed him this box and a huge sum of money. Said, 'Never close this shop until the chosen player arrives.' That was his only request."
"You're kidding," Evan said, now fully invested.
"I'm not. That traveler made my dad the wealthiest man in town. Swore him to secrecy, handed over enough money to keep this place running for decades. Told him the box would one day choose its player."
Evan stared at him. "You're saying this shop is still open because of this?"
"Yep," Mr. Parker said confidently. "I live in a mansion across from the next town. I own a hospital and a logistics company. All inherited from my father. But I stay here because I want to honor his promise."
Evan blinked. "You're rich?"
"Filthy," Parker replied with a smirk.
"This… this is insane," Evan muttered. "What's so special about this game that someone would throw away a fortune just to keep it safe?"
"That's what I've been wondering my whole life," Parker said. "And trust me, I've tried everything to open it. My dad did too. But the traveler told him only the chosen player could unlock it—just by touch."
"So how do you know who the game picks?"
"If the player touches it," Parker explained, "the box will unlock. Simple as that. Ever since I took over the shop, I've left it out. Offered it to anyone who came in—casually, of course. But nothing's happened. Not in over 40 years."
Evan scoffed. "Okay, wow. This is next-level storytelling. Bravo, sir." He gave a mock bow. "You almost had me. I love it. Magical game, chosen one, ancient promise—ten out of ten fairy tales."
Mr. Parker smiled knowingly. "Yeah, yeah. I figured you wouldn't believe me. But hey… let's test it. Go ahead—take the box. Hold it. Let's see what happens."
Evan suddenly pulled his hand back. "Yeah… nah. I'll pass," he said, backing away a little.
But then his eyes drifted to the message written on the back of the box. The wish.
Something about it tugged at him.
"Mr. Parker," Evan said, hesitating, "do you really think this thing could… actually grant a wish?"
Mr. Parker nodded slowly. "I do. Think about it—why else would some strange traveler pay my dad a fortune just to keep it safe all these years? He believed in that reward. And the inscription is clear: it grants a single wish—anything you want, except bringing someone back from the dead or killing someone."
"One wish…" Evan muttered under his breath. "That's kinda wild."
"Look," Mr. Parker added, "I'm not saying you are the player. It probably won't open. But just for the sake of curiosity—touch it. Maybe the game's been waiting for someone with real skill, not just a random button masher."
Evan rolled his eyes, then gave in. "Alright, fine."
He took the box, turning it around in his hands again. It feels light. He stared at the elegant AZRA letters, half-expecting something magical to happen… but nothing did.
"Well," he said with a sigh, "I guess I'm not the chosen one." He shrugged and began handing the box back to Mr. Parker—
But right then, the letters on the box glowed bright green.
"Holy shit—!" Evan shouted, nearly dropping it. He placed it quickly on the counter, eyes wide.
Mr. Parker stepped forward, equally stunned. "It's never done that before," he whispered, watching as the AZRA inscription continued to glow.
Suddenly, the box began to vibrate softly, and then shake—like something inside was waking up.
Before their eyes, it dismantled itself piece by piece, not with rough breaks, but with smooth, mechanical precision. The sides folded inward. The top split cleanly down the center. The letters on the front peeled back like petals on a flower. It was as if the box had been designed to protect something delicate inside.
And then, resting at the very center, a single object emerged.
"A flash drive?" Evan said, blinking.
"Looks like it," Mr. Parker replied, just as confused. "That came out of the part where AZRA was engraved."
Evan picked it up carefully. "Let's try it on the console," he suggested, excitement building.
But Mr. Parker raised his hand. "No. This game chose you. It's meant for you alone. No sharing."
Evan narrowed his eyes. "You're joking."
"Dead serious," Parker said. "Take it home. Try it. I think I just fulfilled my father's final wish."
Evan turned the drive over in his fingers. "But wait—if this thing's been sitting in a sealed box for over forty years, how is there a flash drive inside it? That tech didn't even exist back then."
Mr. Parker exhaled and shrugged. "I've stopped trying to understand it. Maybe the game adapted. Or maybe... it's something else entirely."
Evan didn't reply right away. Part of him was curious. The other part… genuinely afraid.
Finally, he nodded, pocketed the flash drive, and picked up the now-open box.
"Wish me luck," he said quietly as he turned to leave.
"Good luck, Evan," Mr. Parker said, smiling warmly. "And hey—complete the quest."
They waved their goodbyes, the doorbell jingled softly as Evan stepped out into the world, flash drive in his pocket… and fate in his hands.
Evan got home and, as usual, went straight to his room. He flung his school bag into a corner without a second thought. The room was a mess—clothes on the floor, empty snack wrappers, and a pile of books he never opened—but there was one part of the chaos that stood out.
His gaming section.
It was spotless. A sleek flat-screen TV mounted to the wall, consoles neatly stacked below, a glowing mechanical keyboard, and his prized gaming chair parked at the center like a throne. The wires were managed so cleanly, you'd think a professional set it up.
He dropped the flash drive and box on the desk that held his keyboard and mouse. The items sat there—facing him—like they were watching.
Evan stared at the drive for a few seconds, then sighed.
"Aghhh!" he groaned, rubbing his hair in frustration. "Why am I suddenly scared of a damn video game?"
Was it the way the letters had glowed? The way the box had opened on its own like some sci-fi puzzle vault? Whatever it was, it left a weird feeling sitting in his gut.
To distract himself, he logged in to his usual gaming server—Infinite Demon Castle. Right away, he headed for the general chat.
His name was still trending.
> "Please, can I get your picture?"
"I want to use it for all my social media profiles."
"I love you, PLAYER-488!"
Evan couldn't help but smile.
He slowly rolled his chair back until it faced the full-length mirror near the corner of his room. He stared at his reflection and chuckled bitterly.
"She'd probably vomit if I actually sent her my picture," he muttered. "Who the hell wants a puffy face like this as their profile photo?"
It stung. But he knew it was the truth—at least in the eyes of most people.
He glanced at the time.
"Mum won't be back until tonight," he mumbled. "Guess I'll game till she gets in."
Then his eyes flicked back to the flash drive on the desk. The memory of the reward echoed in his head.
> One wish.
"If completing this quest really gives me a wish…" he whispered, "there's only one thing I'd ask for."
His eyes dropped to his hands, then the mirror again.
"I haven't even sent the developers my photo for the Infinite Demon Castle banner. They keep bugging my inbox, but... what if I waited?"
"What if I complete this game first? If it works—if the wish is real—I could be handsome. I could finally be free from all this."
He paused, then laughed weakly.
"Who am I kidding? That kind of stuff doesn't happen in real life."
Still, his fingers drifted to the flash drive. Slowly, almost without thinking, he picked it up and slid it into his console.
He stared at the screen.
"…Here goes nothing," he muttered.
And clicked.