This morning, when I woke up and turned on the faucet, I discovered that what flowed out was blood.

  At the same time, a mechanical voice chimed in my ear: "Welcome to Nirvana Game. You have one minute to decide whether to begin."

  What game?

  I looked up in confusion, only to see my reflection in the mirror—bleeding from every orifice, my eyes hollowed out into dark, gaping holes.

  Rotting chunks of flesh peeled away, plopping onto the sink.

  I stumbled back, heart pounding, and ran a trembling hand over my face. Then, hesitantly, I looked down—

  My hands were clean. No blood. No decay.

  Maybe I was just hallucinating from too many sleepless nights.

  I glanced at the mirror again. Everything was normal. My face was flawless—sharp suit, perfect features, the kind of man who, with glasses on, could pass as a gentlemanly villain.

  I let out a breath, wiped my face and cold sweat with a towel, then turned around.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Suddenly, my heel pressed down on something cold and slimy. A sharp crunch echoed—it sounded like brittle bone.

  A chill crawled up my spine. Slowly, I lowered my gaze—to a corpse on the floor.

  A corpse, already beginning to rot.

  A corpse, bleeding from every orifice, its eyes gouged out.

  A corpse... my corpse.

  "Beep." The mechanical voice chimed again. "You have 30 seconds left to decide whether to start Nirvana Game."

  Who am I?! Why am I here?

  My mind went blank.

  Because I realized—I had completely forgotten who I was. Even my name was gone.

  "Beep. Ten seconds remaining."

  Why did I die?

  "Nine, eight, seven..."

  What is this game?

  "Six, five, four..."

  Nirvana?

  "Three, two..."

  Can it bring me back to life?

  "One..."

  "Start." I gasped, shouting at the last second, "Confirm! I confirm!"

  "Player identity confirmed: Sylas Turing."

  I could've sworn I heard the mechanical voice chuckle darkly.

  "Stage One begins."