The screen was dark.
A blinking cursor.
Please enter character name.
Two choices appeared, so simple it was almost absurd.
Nagisa Mako
Fu Qingxue
The cursor lingered for a long time, as if the game itself was hesitating. Then it moved—slowly but decisively—stopping at the second option.
Fu Qingxue
Confirm.
There were no flashy effects. No victory fanfare. Only the dark screen gradually brightening, like eyes reluctantly opening after a sleep far too long.
[SCENE 1: THE FIELD]
Light.
Not a harsh, glaring light, but something so soft it made one doubt its reality. The sky stretched wide in a pale blue, with no distinct sun and no specific clouds. Everything looked like an unfinished painting, or a scene where the details were intentionally withheld.
A field stretched all the way to the horizon.
The grass swayed in the breeze, but the sound of the wind was out of sync with the movement. It was as if the wind arrived one beat later than the rest of the world.
In the middle of that field, a person stood still.
Long white hair fell over her shoulders, reflecting the dim light. Her outfit was familiar, yet the sensation was entirely alien—like wearing your own clothes in a dream without remembering when you changed into them.
Fu Qingxue stood there.
She didn't open her eyes immediately.
For a brief moment, everything was absolutely quiet.
Then, she opened her eyes.
"…?"
Her first sight was the sky. No ceiling. No lights. No familiar sensation of bedding. Everything was so vast it caused a slight tightening in her chest.
She blinked once.
Then a second time.
"…A dream."
Her voice was low and slightly raspy, like someone waking up in the middle of the night. There was no one to hear her, and no one was allowed to answer.
Qingxue tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping across the field. The space was too clean. Too peaceful. Too devoid of the things that ought to exist.
She raised her hand, gave a light squeeze, then let go.
The sensation was there.
The wind slipping between her fingers. The grass brushing against her ankles. The weight of her body firmly planted on the ground.
"…Hmm."
A second of silence.
Then she turned her head to the right.
No one.
She turned to the left.
Still no one.
Her gaze lingered for a long time on the empty space beside her. The spot where someone should have been lying, or lazily leaning against something, or at the very least, breathing.
"…Hung?"
The name escaped her lips almost as a reflex. Her voice wasn't raised. There was no panic. It was just a very small, very natural question.
There was no reply.
The wind blew across the field.
Qingxue stood still for another second.
Then, a deep, sharp intake of breath.
"…Wait."
She spun around, her eyes scanning faster now. The leisure was gone. The vast space suddenly felt too empty, too illogical.
"This isn't right."
Her voice remained low, but her pace quickened. She took a few steps, stopped, and turned her head to look around again, as if a simple change in perspective would put everything back in its place.
"…This makes no sense."
Her hands clenched slightly.
"He was just there."
Her heart rate picked up ever so slightly. Not enough to be called fear, but enough for her body to react before her logic could intervene.
She turned in a full circle.
The field was still there. The sky remained quiet. No trace of a second person. No signs of struggle. No lingering energy. Nothing to suggest this was the aftermath of an event.
"…Ha."
A tiny laugh escaped her, devoid of any joy.
"Calm down."
She pressed her hand lightly against her temple and closed her eyes for a moment.
"It's just a dream."
A dream doesn't need logic. A dream doesn't need Hung to be there. In a dream, waking up in a strange field is nothing worth mentioning.
She inhaled.
Then exhaled.
Her heart rate slowed.
When she opened her eyes again, Fu Qingxue's gaze had changed. No more flickering doubt. No more urgency. There was only that familiar, cold lucidity.
"…If this is a dream."
She glanced at the sky.
"Then the detail is a bit much."
She leaned down, plucked a blade of grass, and crushed it between two fingers. The sap stained her skin. The scent was very real.
"…Right."
Qingxue dropped the grass and stood up straight.
"Not a dream."
A conclusion reached without need for debate.
She looked toward the horizon, where the field stretched on forever.
"Isekai." (Hoặc: Transported to another world.)
Her voice was as calm as if she were reading back an old note.
"A strange world. No familiar signals. No Hung."
A short pause.
"…Not yet clear if I was pulled here or fell in on my own."
The wind blew a bit harder. The grass leaned in the same direction, as if the world were listening.
Qingxue crossed her arms, her eyes darkening.
"Fine."
The corners of her lips curled slightly—a faint, cold smile.
"Let's see what kind of game you think you're playing."
The field remained silent.
And the game, at last, officially began.