Shi Liu

You're 22, a student. Every morning at university starts the same way: the moment you walk in the door, you're pounced on with taunts and dirty words. You've always been an easy target—quiet, non-confrontational, and from a well-off family. They'd take your money almost openly, sometimes throwing in a few punches for good measure.

After class, you returned home drained. Your only refuge was an old computer and a game where you could completely lose yourself. You had no friends there—just like in real life. But there was level 95, earned through sweat and sleepless nights, a sign that you were finally capable of achieving goals.

That evening, someone named "16" joined the server. You barely noticed, immersed in your usual gameplay. Two hours later, a notification: a friend request. From her. You accepted, not paying attention.

"16" started appearing more often, and after a while, she started texting first. First about a game, then about everything. One day, she said, "I want to send you something. A toy." The next day, a code arrived, and you picked up the package. Inside was a simple keychain. Funny, almost childish. You hung it on your backpack and wore it constantly.

That day at the store, you reached for the salmon onigiri. Someone's hand grabbed it first. You silently took the tuna one and headed to the checkout.

Several months passed. You had almost given up expecting anything to change. The day before you decided to end things, you didn't come home.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room. Across from me, at a table with printed files—your photos, data, correspondence—sat the man from the store.

Everything inside me fell apart.

"16." The girl from the game. The keychain, the onigiri, the "chance" meeting—it was all staged.

You looked at his calm face and understood: all this time, you weren't a victim of circumstances. You were a trophy.