For a short while after Spectre disappeared, the subway carriage remained strangely quiet. The glowing scenario window still floated in front of everyone's eyes while the timer continued counting down steadily.
19:47.
A man near the door suddenly grabbed the emergency lever beside the exit. He pulled it down with all his strength, his face pale with panic. The metal handle moved, but the subway doors didn't react at all.
He pulled it again, harder this time, but the result was exactly the same.
"What the hell is this?" he shouted while yanking the lever again.
Another passenger rushed forward to help him, still nothing happened. The doors remained completely still, as if the train itself had become a sealed box.
Meanwhile, several other passengers had already taken out their phones.
"I'm calling the police!"
"Try 911!"
"Someone contact the subway control center!"
The carriage quickly filled with anxious voices as people tried to reach anyone outside. Some paced nervously in the crowded train while holding their phones to their ears, while others refreshed news portals again and again as if waiting for the world to explain what was happening.
Beside me, Shia was also holding her phone tightly against her ear. After several seconds, she slowly lowered it, her expression growing more uneasy.
"It's not connecting. The call isn't even going through."
That didn't surprise me.
In my dreams, the same thing had happened every time the scenarios began. Communication with the outside world always disappeared almost immediately, as if the entire city had been cut off from reality itself.
"Arin, tell me this is some kind of nightmare."
I didn't answer. Instead, my eyes slowly moved across the subway carriage, taking in the frightened passengers and the dead bodies.
Everything looked exactly like the beginning of the world I had been watching through my dreams for the past ten years.
Before I could think further, a voice suddenly rose above the noise.
"Everyone, please calm down!"
A tall man wearing a dark security jacket with a handsome face had stepped forward near the center of the carriage.
His posture was straight and his voice steady enough to catch the attention of several people nearby.
"Panicking won't help anyone. Right now we need to stay calm and think clearly."
People quickly gathered around him, drawn by the simple confidence in his voice.
"Do you know what's happening?" a woman asked desperately.
"No," the man replied honestly. "But I work in the army. Situations like this require leadership."
His calm tone seemed to reassure a few passengers.
"We should organize ourselves and wait for the authorities," he continued. "This is probably some kind of large-scale attack. The government will respond soon."
I recognized him immediately. His name was Charles Flintoff.
Now even the characters from my dreams were starting to appear in reality.
I don't clearly remember when it started, but after seeing those dreams again and again, the information became too much for me to handle. It wasn't something a normal person could process. Faces, events, deaths… everything mixed together until it stopped feeling real.
So I changed the way I looked at it.
I began treating the people in my dreams as characters in a story. It was easier that way.
If it was just a story, then I wouldn't have to think too deeply about it.
The white-haired girl became the protagonist. The center of everything. The one the story moved around.
And the others naturally fell into place as well. Main characters, supporting characters, extras, love interests… everyone had a role.
And then there were the villains.
The man standing in front of me was one of them.
Charles Flintoff.
A con artist who could fool anyone with his acting. Someone who would smile while lying, and kill without hesitation if it benefited him.
In my dreams, he survived for a long time, leaving behind a trail of chaos and corpses. He was the kind of person who didn't just survive… he thrived in situations where others broke.
More importantly, he became a major obstacle for the protagonist.
A dangerous one.
"Look at the news!"
Amidst my cold thoughts, several passengers quickly opened their phones. Within seconds, a live broadcast appeared across multiple screens.
The network, which wasn't working a minute ago, started working.
The image showed a press conference room somewhere in Washington, filled with reporters and cameras. After a moment, the President stepped up to the podium and adjusted the microphone.
"To all citizens of the United States, unidentified criminal incidents are currently occurring in multiple places across the whole Washington D.C. Authorities are investigating the situation and asking everyone to remain calm while emergency forces are being deployed."
A wave of relief passed through the subway.
"See? The government is handling it!"
"This must be some kind of terrorist attack!"
"We just need to wait!"
"Exactly. The authorities will take control soon."
Even Charles nodded slightly, as if he agreed with the others and shared their thoughts.
He was trying to make them believe that.
But I knew better than anyone that it wasn't true.
Charles Flintoff was a fast thinker. He had already reached the conclusion long before the others could even process what was happening. By now, he had understood something that everyone else was still desperately ignoring.
There was no saving this situation. No stopping this nightmare.
So he chose the second-best option.
If he couldn't stop the apocalypse, then he would thrive in it. And the first step toward that was simple… make others lower their guard, then kill them before they could react.
No one had noticed it yet, but a faint hue had appeared around everyone's body ever since the scenario began. It was almost invisible unless you focused on it carefully, but it was there.
The hunters carried a slight red aura and the runners had a faint blue one.
And as time passed, those colors would only grow denser making them more visible.
But no one was paying attention right now.
Everyone was too busy panicking. When people are pushed into sudden danger, the human mind often fails to notice even the simplest things. It focuses only on survival in the most basic sense, ignoring everything else.
That was exactly what was happening here. Everyone was missing it.
Everyone except Charles.
He had already noticed the colour around him. He knew he was a hunter, and his goal was simple… kill others and survive.
And what was the best way to kill someone?
You strike when they suspect you the least.
Just then, while everyone was still focused on the broadcast, the screen suddenly froze.
The President stopped mid-sentence, his image locked in place as the video glitched violently. The screen flickered for several seconds before the image changed.
Instead of the press room, a familiar figure appeared.
A pig wearing a red suit.
Specter smiled pleasantly from inside the broadcast.
[Everyone, I believe I already explained this.}
{This is not terrorism.}
{This is not a prank.}
{And it certainly isn't something your governments can solve.}
Before anyone could react, the President's body suddenly jerked violently. A loud popping sound echoed through the phone speakers, and blood sprayed across the podium.
No one spoke. The body of the president of the strongest country in the world has blown up like a balloon on national television.
{You still don't seem to understand.}
The floating timer suddenly flashed and the numbers changed.
{Since you are all having trouble following the rules, I will shorten the time limit.}
18:12 → 10:00.
Panic spread instantly.
"What?!"
"You can't do that!"
{Of course I can.}
{Perhaps a demonstration will help.}
A massive screen suddenly appeared beside the host.
The image showed a classroom somewhere else in the city where several teenagers were sitting in their seats, staring at the same glowing scenario window floating in front of them.
The timer on their screen reached zero.
For a moment nothing happened. Then several popping sounds rang one after another.
POP! POP!
POP! POP!
One of the students suddenly collapsed. A small hole appeared in the center of his forehead, and blood splashed across the desk in front of him.
The classroom erupted into screams as another student dropped, then another, and within seconds the room was covered in blood. No one survived.
{You see?}
{The rules are quite simple.}
{Someone must die.}
With that the broadcast cut off. The mobile signal which appeared for a moment disappeared with it.
9:28.
No one spoke anymore. People slowly began stepping away from each other, their eyes filled with fear and suspicion.
A moment ago they had been strangers sharing the same train ride home. Now each person was silently wondering the same thing.
Who would become the first killer?
Beside me, Shia's fingers tightened around my sleeve as she whispered nervously, "Arin… what do we do?"