The ceiling had a crack that seemed to grow every day.
Steve knew every line of it, every crooked curve in the old cement. Sometimes it looked like a map. Other times, an open wound. That morning, it was just another thing standing still above him, while the world remained broken.
His cell phone vibrated lightly over his raised hands. The screen illuminated his face with a pale glow, highlighting the deep dark circles and the dark skin marked by poorly slept nights. He blinked slowly, as if the text might change if he didn't look directly.
Limited registration.
Steve furrowed his brow. Scrolled the page up. Then down. The site didn't seem fake—clean design, fast servers, no strange advertisements. That made him even more uncomfortable.
Then he saw it.
A golden banner, almost out of place in the page's simplicity.
Reward: 1,000,000,000 USD
The air got stuck in his chest.
Steve let out a short laugh, without humor, shaking his head.
"No…" he murmured, more to himself than to the empty room.
One billion.
The word echoed in his mind like a gunshot. The cell phone seemed heavier. He closed his eyes for a second, but the images came anyway.
His mother lying in the hospital, connected to machines that beeped too low. The bills piled in an old drawer, some with red warnings. The siblings sharing a plate that never seemed enough.
One billion could erase all of that.
Could buy medicine without asking the price. Could put food on the table every day. Could get them all out of that neighborhood that reeked of alcohol, rust, and violence.
Could… escape.
Steve swallowed hard. Opened his eyes too quickly, as if he had been caught dreaming out loud.
"It's a lie…" he whispered. "It has to be."
But the site was still there.
His hand slid across the screen to contacts. Stopped at a name.
Nesin.
He took a deep breath before starting the video call.
The ring lasted briefly. The image appeared with a slight delay, revealing Nesin's face from the other side of the world. Her room was bright, too organized to seem real. She smiled as soon as she saw him.
"Steve!"
"Hey…" he responded, still somewhat lost.
She tilted her head, analyzing his image with exaggerated attention. Her eyes widened.
"Wow… your skin is really chocolate."
Steve blinked, confused. Heat rose up his neck.
"Huh? What?"
"Here in China, it's rare. People like you stand out a lot. You'd be a celebrity," she said, laughing, without malice.
He looked away, scratching the back of his neck.
"That's… weird."
The silence that followed was short but heavy. Steve couldn't stand it.
"Nesin… that reward. One billion dollars. Is it real?"
She didn't laugh. Didn't seem surprised.
"Yes. It's a test event. A game funded by Tencent. Final testing phase."
She typed something quickly. A notification appeared on his phone seconds later. An email with the Tencent logo. Formal. Cold. Real.
Steve felt his body vibrate.
"No way…" His voice failed, then rose. "NO WAY!"
He sat up in a jump, laughing too loud, running his hand through his curly hair.
"That's insane! Do you know what that means?!"
Nesin smiled, but there was something serious in her gaze.
"Just don't forget. If it's real… today is probably the start."
Before he could respond, a sound crossed the house.
Crying.
High-pitched. Desperate.
The smile died on Steve's face.
He stood up at once, the cell phone almost slipping from his hand, and ran down the narrow hallway.
The scene in the living room seemed frozen at the worst possible moment.
His father staggered, his body heavy with alcohol, his hand raised. The smell was the first blow—strong, sour, suffocating. The younger sister was huddled near the wall, crying soundlessly, trying to protect herself.
Something snapped inside Steve.
He advanced without thinking.
The punch hit his father's face with a dry sound. The impact made the man stumble a step backward, surprised more by the audacity than the pain.
For a second, there was silence.
Then the counterattack came.
His father's fist hit Steve's face like a hammer. The world spun. He fell backward, tasting the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.
"Useless…" his father growled, spitting on the floor. "Weak as always."
He left staggering through the door, laughing alone.
The siblings ran to Steve. Small hands trying to help him up.
"I'm fine," he lied, forcing a crooked smile. "Everything's going to be okay."
But his sister's stomach growled too loud to ignore.
Steve closed his eyes for a second.
"I'll buy food."
He took what little money remained and left.
The world outside wasn't better.
At the market, a crowd surrounded a man on top of a car. His voice cut through the air like a blade, with his arms raised.
An old man was on top of a car, arms raised.
"The end is near!" he shouted. "The chosen ones have already been selected! Enjoy your miserable lives!"
Laughter. Insults.
People laughed.
"Crazy old man!"
"Go to work!"
"Shut up!"
"This world is doomed!" the old man continued.
Stones. Bottles. Objects flew.
The police tried to approach.
"Get down from there!" they shouted.
The man jumped from the car and ran off, the crowd chasing him.
Steve watched everything with an empty gaze.
"Normal…" he murmured, walking away.
---
On the way back, the feeling came.
Footsteps behind him.
One. Two.
Steve sped up.
The footsteps did too.
His heart began to beat too fast.
He ran.
Entered a narrow alley, the food bag hitting against his leg. The exit was right there—
A black car suddenly appeared in the way and blocked the exit.
The impact threw him to the ground.
Hands grabbed him by the arms, pushing him against the wall.
The car door opened.
The school principal got out.
Without saying a word, he hit Steve's stomach with brutal force. The air disappeared. He fell.
The foot crushed his face against the ground.
"Next time, it won't be a warning."
The car left.
Steve stayed there, breathing with difficulty, looking at the narrow sky of the alley.
The same world.
The same crack.
---
Steve took almost half an hour to be able to stand up properly.
Each step hurt as if his body was charging old interest. His swollen face pulsed, his stomach burned where the punch had hit. Still, he pressed the food bag against his chest as if it were something too fragile to fall.
When he got home, night had already swallowed the sky.
The siblings ran to him as soon as he opened the door. Frightened, relieved, hungry eyes. Steve forced a smile better than the previous one.
"Everything's okay," he repeated, like a mantra.
They ate in silence. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make the children's eyes shine. Steve watched every movement, every small laugh, every spoon scraping the plate, as if he was recording it in his memory.
Because, deep down, he was afraid.
Afraid of not being able to protect them.
Afraid of becoming the same kind of man he hated.
Afraid that the world was really ending, as that old man had shouted.
When the siblings finally fell asleep, Steve left without making noise.
The hospital was almost empty at that hour. The white lights made everything look unreal, as if the place existed outside of time. The smell of disinfectant always reminded him that nobody there was really alive—just waiting.
His mother slept.
Her chest rose and fell slowly, following the rhythm of the machines. Steve pulled a chair and sat beside her, holding her hand carefully, as if he could break it.
"Mom…" he whispered.
No response.
He rested his forehead on her hand. For a moment, he let fatigue win. The images of the day came back in disconnected flashes: the punch, the black car, the prophet old man, the absurd number on the site.
One billion.
Steve opened his eyes slowly.
Took his cell phone from his pocket. The screen lit up, reflecting in his tired eyes. The site was still open. Waiting.
He took a deep breath.
"If this is a lie…" he murmured. "Then it's the cruelest lie they've ever told me."
He started filling out the form.
Name. Age. Country. Physical conditions. Medical history.
Each question seemed too simple for something that promised so much. When he reached the last part, a sentence caught his attention:
"Are you willing to lose everything?"
His finger hesitated over the screen.
Lose what?
He thought about the house falling apart. About the drunk father. About the principal stepping on his face. About the world that seemed determined to crush him little by little.
Maybe he had already lost everything a long time ago.
Steve marked YES.
The screen blinked.
For a second, it went completely white. His heart accelerated, his entire body becoming tense, ready for the worst.
Then the site loaded again.
A new interface appeared.
Black. Minimalist. Cold.
In the center, large numbers began to appear.
GAME START IN:
01:00:00
Steve remained motionless.
One hour.
There were no fireworks, no music, no welcome message. Just that silent, relentless countdown, advancing second by second.
59:59
59:58
The world didn't end.
Nothing exploded.
Nobody appeared to stop him.
Steve let out a low, almost hysterical laugh.
"So this is it…" he whispered.
He slowly put away his cell phone and looked back at his mother. He squeezed her hand harder.
"If this works…" his voice failed. "I promise I'll get you out of here."
He stood up from the chair. His body hurt, but his mind was strangely clear. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel only fear.
He felt anticipation.
When he left the room, a nurse passed through the hallway, giving him a quick, tired look. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything remained the same.
Only he knew that time was running out.
Outside the hospital, the city continued alive. Cars passed. People laughed. Someone shouted on the phone. The world continued ignorant, as always.
Steve leaned against the wall, breathing deeply.
He took his cell phone once more.
The countdown continued.
00:59:21
He closed his eyes.
If this was real…
If that game really existed…
Then this would be Steve's last hour living that suffering and freeing himself from everything.
And, for the first time, the idea didn't scare him.
It made him smile.