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The first thing Y/n registered was the cold.

Not the gentle chill of a cracked window, but a deep, creeping cold that settled into the bones like recognition. The air tasted of old dust and rain, of wood long since soaked and dried and soaked again. Moonlight fell through a tall, narrow window, casting a pale, silvery square across the floorboards.

The ceiling above was cracked with age. Hairline fractures trailed from one corner of the room to the other, like veins in stone. The bed beneath was neatly made—crisp white sheets, a single gray blanket tucked in at the corners with military precision. An oak desk stood against the far wall, bare except for a folded uniform and a single sheet of paper. A wardrobe loomed in the corner, dark wood, heavy, its doors closed.

Everything was still. Everything was waiting.

Y/n sat up abruptly, breath catching in their throat. Heart pounding. This wasn't their bedroom. The last thing they remembered was falling asleep. Now they were here—somewhere else entirely.

The uniform on the desk was embroidered with a silver crest. Blackthorn Academy.

A soft chime echoed through the room.

Y/n flinched. A translucent blue screen flickered to life before them, floating in the air like a projection. Its text was crisp, clinical, utterly unbothered by the impossible circumstances.

WELCOME, PLAYER.

Location: Blackthorn Academy.

Difficulty: Nightmare.

Current Survival Rate: 1.2%.

Main Objective: Survive 30 days.

Failure: Permanent Death.

Y/n stared. Their breathing hitched. "...A game?" The words came out as a whisper, barely audible in the silence.

The screen flickered. The message disappeared. Another took its place.

Rule #1: Do not leave your dorm after midnight.

A knock echoed from the hallway.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Y/n froze.

A voice drifted through the door. Calm. Measured. Almost gentle.

Another notification shimmered into view.

New Character Unlocked.

Professor Lucien Ashcroft.

Status: Literature Professor.

Danger Level: Unknown.

Footsteps faded down the hallway. Slow. Deliberate. Then silence.

Y/n let out the breath they'd been holding.

Then—

Knock.

Louder this time. Slower. Harder.

The blue screen flashed crimson.

Warning.

The one outside your door is no longer Professor Ashcroft.