The ceiling had a crack that seemed to grow a little more 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 unmoving thing above him while the world below remained broken.

  The phone trembled lightly in his raised hands. Its screen lit his face with a pale glow, highlighting the deep dark circles and skin marked by sleepless nights. He blinked slowly, as if the text might change if he didn’t look at it directly.

  Limited registration.

  Steve frowned. He scrolled up. Then down.

  The website didn’t look fake — clean design, fast servers, no strange ads. That only made him more uneasy.

  Then he saw it.

  A golden banner, almost out of place against the page’s simplicity.

  Reward: 1,000,000,000 USD

  The air got stuck in his chest.

  Steve let out a short, humorless laugh, 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 phone felt heavier. He closed his eyes for a second, but the images came anyway.

  His mother lying in a hospital bed, connected to machines that beeped too quietly. Bills stacked inside an old drawer, some stamped with red warnings. His siblings sharing a plate that never seemed enough.

  One billion could erase all of that.

  It could buy medicine without asking for the price. Put food on the table every day. Get them all out of that neighborhood that smelled of alcohol, rust, and violence.

  It could… let him escape.

  Steve swallowed hard. He opened his eyes too quickly, as if caught dreaming too big.

  “It’s fake…” he whispered. “It has to be.”

  But the site was still there.

  His hand slid across the screen to his contacts and stopped on a name.

  Nesin.

  He took a deep breath before starting the video call.

  It rang only briefly. The image appeared with a slight delay, revealing Nesin’s face on the other side of the world. Her room was bright, far too organized to feel real. She smiled the moment she saw him.

  “Steve!”

  “Hey…” he replied, still a little lost.

  She tilted her head, studying his image with exaggerated attention. Her eyes widened.

  “Wow… your skin is really chocolate.”

  Steve blinked, confused. Heat crept 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.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The silence that followed was brief, but heavy. Steve couldn’t hold it in.

  “Nesin… that reward. One billion dollars. Is it real?”

  She didn’t laugh. She didn’t look surprised.

  “Yes. It’s a test event. A game funded by Tencent. Final testing phase.”

  She typed quickly. A notification appeared on his phone seconds later — an email with the Tencent logo. Formal. Cold. Real.

  Steve felt his whole body vibrate.

  “No way…” His voice cracked, then rose. “NO WAY!”

  He sat up in a jump, laughing too loudly, running a hand through his curly hair.

  “That’s insane! Do you know what that means?!”

  Nesin smiled, but there was something serious in her eyes.

  “Just don’t forget. If it’s real… today is probably the beginning.”

  Before he could reply, a sound tore through the house.

  Crying.

  High-pitched. Desperate.

  The smile vanished from Steve’s face.

  He jumped up, the phone nearly slipping from his hand, and ran down the narrow hallway.

  The scene in the living room looked frozen at the worst possible moment.

  His father staggered, body heavy with alcohol, one hand raised. The smell hit first — strong, sour, suffocating. His little sister was curled up near the wall, crying silently, trying to shield herself.

  Something snapped inside Steve.

  He moved without thinking.

  His punch landed on his father’s face with a dull crack. The impact made the man stumble back a step, more shocked by the audacity than the pain.

  For a second, there was silence.

  Then the counterattack came.

  His father’s fist struck Steve’s face like a hammer. The world spun. He fell onto his back, tasting metal in his mouth.

  “Useless…” his father growled, spitting on the floor. “Weak as always.”

  He staggered out the door, laughing to himself.

  The siblings rushed 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 loudly to ignore.

  Steve closed his eyes for a second.

  “I’m going to buy food.”

  He grabbed what little money was left and went out.

  The world outside wasn’t any better.

  At the market, a crowd surrounded a man standing on top of a car, arms raised. His voice cut through the air like a blade.

  “The end is near!” he shouted. “The chosen have already been selected! Enjoy your miserable lives!”

  Laughter. Insults.

  People laughed.

  “Crazy old man!”

  “Get a job!”

  “Shut up!”

  “This world is doomed!” the man continued.

  Stones. Bottles. Objects flew.

  The police tried to approach.

  “Get down from there!” they shouted.

  The man jumped off the car and ran, the crowd chasing after him.

  Steve watched it all with empty eyes.

  “Normal…” he murmured, walking away.

  On the way back, the feeling came.

  Footsteps behind him.

  One. Two.

  Steve sped up.

  So did the footsteps.

  His heart started pounding too fast.

  He ran.

  He turned into a narrow alley, the bag of food slapping against his leg. The exit was right there—

  A black car suddenly appeared and blocked the way.

  The impact sent him crashing to the ground.

  Hands grabbed his arms, slamming him against the wall.

  The car door opened.

  The school principal stepped out.

  Without a word, he drove a brutal punch into Steve’s stomach. The air vanished. Steve collapsed.

  A foot crushed his face against the ground.

  “Next time, there won’t be a warning.”

  The car drove away.

  Steve lay there, struggling to breathe, staring at the narrow strip of sky above the alley.

  The same world.

  The same crack.

  It took Steve almost half an hour to stand properly again.

  Every step hurt, as if his body were collecting old interest. His swollen face throbbed, his stomach burned where the punch had landed. Even so, he held the bag of food tight against his chest, as if it were too fragile to drop.

  When he got home, night had already swallowed the sky.

  His siblings ran to him the moment he opened the door. Scared eyes. Relieved. Hungry. Steve forced a better smile than before.

  “It’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 engraving it into memory.

  Because deep down, he was afraid.

  Afraid he wouldn’t be able to protect them.

  Afraid of becoming the kind of man he hated.

  Afraid the world really was ending, like that old man had shouted.

  When his siblings finally fell asleep, Steve slipped out quietly.

  The hospital was nearly empty at that hour. The white lights made everything look unreal, as if the place existed outside time. The smell of disinfectant always reminded him that no one there was truly alive — just waiting.

  His mother was asleep.

  Her chest rose and fell slowly, in rhythm with the machines. Steve pulled up a chair and sat beside her, holding her hand carefully, as if it might break.

  “Mom…” he whispered.

  No response.

  He rested his forehead against her hand. For a moment, he let exhaustion win. The day replayed in disconnected flashes: the punch, the black car, the old prophet, the absurd number on the site.

  One billion.

  Steve opened his eyes slowly.

  He took the 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 I’ve ever been told.”

  He began filling out the form.

  Name. Age. Country. Physical condition. Medical history.

  Each question felt far too simple for something promising 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 of the crumbling house. The drunk father. The principal’s foot on his face. A 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 flashed.

  For a second, it went completely white. His heart raced, his entire body tensing, ready for the worst.

  Then the site loaded again.

  A new interface appeared.

  Black. Minimalist. Cold.

  At the center, large numbers began to appear.

  GAME STARTS IN:

  01:00:00

  Steve stood still.

  One hour.

  There were no fireworks. No music. No welcome message. Just that silent, merciless countdown, advancing second by second.

  59:59

  59:58

  The world didn’t end.

  Nothing exploded.

  No one came to stop him.

  Steve let out a low, almost hysterical laugh.

  “So this is it…” he whispered.

  He slowly put the phone away and looked back at his mother. He squeezed her hand tighter.

  “If this works…” His voice broke. “I promise I’ll get you out of here.”

  He stood up. His body hurt, but his mind felt strangely clear. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel only fear.

  He felt anticipation.

  As he left the room, a nurse passed by in the hallway, giving him a quick, tired glance. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything went on as usual.

  Only he knew that time was running out.

  Outside the hospital, the city was still alive. Cars passed by. People laughed. Someone shouted into a phone. The world remained ignorant, as always.

  Steve leaned against the wall, breathing deeply.

  He took out his phone once more.

  The countdown continued.

  00:59:21

  He closed his eyes.

  If this was real…

  If that game truly existed…

  Then this would be the last hour of Steve living in that suffering — and freeing himself from it all.

  And for the first time, the thought didn’t scare him.

  It made him smile.