Ayla's life changes when the mysterious Front Man reappears from her past, pulling her into a deadly game of life and death. As the tension builds between them, what starts as a fight for survival soon becomes a dangerous game of attraction and trus...
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ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
Ayla's Pov
I stared at the business card in my hand, its surface smooth under my fingertips, a reminder of the bizarre encounter earlier. The black-and-white numbers were embossed in stark contrast against the pale card, as if to underscore their importance. My fingers shook slightly as I ran them over the digits. I couldn't shake the feeling that something about the whole thing was... wrong. The man's smile, the promise of easy money, the whisper of something more—something darker—lingered at the edge of my thoughts.
The streets outside my apartment were empty, the moonlight casting long shadows across the sidewalks. It was a quiet night, far too quiet for me to concentrate. I had a thousand thoughts swirling in my mind, but one stood out more than the others: "What if this is my chance?"
The words echoed in my mind, the same ones the man had said when he handed me the card. A chance to escape the crushing weight of my debts. A way out of the dead-end job, the endless cycle of living paycheck to paycheck, the hopelessness that had settled over me like a fog I couldn't escape.
But that fog had been replaced by something else now—doubt. Was it a scam? Was this some sort of trap? I couldn't ignore the warning bells ringing in my mind, but the allure of the money, the idea of a new life... it was too strong.
I glanced at the clock on my phone: 11:47 p.m. My fingers hesitated over the keypad as I unlocked it, staring at the digits of the number that had been burned into my memory. One part of me wanted to throw the card in the trash, to pretend it never happened. But another part—no, a stronger part—was already calculating the risks, weighing the possibilities.
Finally, I made the decision. My fingers moved, dialing the number before I could second-guess myself. It rang once, twice, before a cold, automated voice answered.
"Welcome to the Game. Please provide your name, age, and the date of your birth to begin."
My heart pounded in my chest. I almost hung up, the panic rising in my throat. I wasn't sure why, but something about the sterile tone of the voice made it all feel so much more real, so much more dangerous.
"Name," the voice repeated, the lack of emotion in its words making my stomach turn.
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. "Ayla Seok," I said, my voice sounding small and unfamiliar to my own ears.
"Age," the voice prompted.
"Twenty-six," I answered without thinking, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound calm.
"Date of birth," came the next prompt.
My fingers were shaking now, and for a moment, I didn't know if I could do it. I was scared. This was a bad idea. I should hang up. But then the thought hit me—this could be my one shot. I could change everything.
