The button sticker was expertly crafted—virtually indistinguishable from a real button.
The antidote I'd swallowed seemed to contain a sedative alongside the cure.
My vision blurred. Through the haze, I caught a glimpse of blood flowing from the corner of Quinn's mouth.
As I slumped sideways, Quinn gripped the cage bars with both hands, tendons straining.
He kept vomiting blood, yet his bloodshot eyes stayed fixed on me.
"Alex," he pleaded, his voice thin and desperate. "You have to survive. You have to get out."
I tried to answer—I will. I'll carry out your dying wish.
But the drug was too powerful. I couldn't form the words.
My eyes rolled back and everything went black.
In my last fragment of consciousness, I saw Quinn succumb to the poison. His grip on the bars weakened.
His eyes closed. He slid downward. The black water closed over his head.
3
I don't know how long passed.
When I next woke, I was lying on an operating table.
A high-pitched whine filled my ears. My mind was blank for a suspended moment.
Then Quinn's voice seemed to echo through my skull: "Alex, you have to survive. You have to get out."
I jolted upright, gasping.
The operating room was empty. No one but me.
The overhead lights blazed, stark and white.
I looked down—my clothes were unchanged, the button sticker still on my shirt.
Relieved, I surveyed my surroundings.
This had to be the prep phase Quinn had told me about—the five-minute window before the procedure.
I had to move fast.
I swung my legs off the table and scanned the room for the storage closet.
I'd just found the door when the operating room's main entrance groaned open behind me.
I spun around, alert.
The person standing there was someone I thought was dead.
"Seth?!"
Seth was peering inside furtively. When he saw me, his face lit up.
"Thank god! You haven't been modified yet. Come on—hurry, we have to go. There's no time."
Seth waved me over excitedly.
I strode toward him. "You're not dead?"
Seth said, "Save it for later—they could be back any second."
He had a point. I followed him out.
As we ran, he told me what had happened.
"You told me to find a hammer and pry open the partition, right? Well, I found one, and I figured—why not just smash the door lock instead? So I tried, and it actually worked! I was going to come back for you, but the fire was too intense. I couldn't get back in, so I had to give up."
He shot me a glance. "You're not mad at me, are you?"
I shook my head. "You came back for me now. Why would I be mad? But how did you find this place?"
Seth exhaled. "Good. After I got out of that room, I tried to run, but I ran into the body-collection crew. I had no choice—I pretended to be dead next to the cabin."
Then he frowned. "But those workers were weird. They didn't even check my pulse or breathing—they just loaded me onto a truck and brought me here. I slipped away when they weren't looking, and I happened to see them wheel you into the operating room. I've been waiting outside, figuring I'd come get you once they left, but..."
We rounded a corner, and Seth's voice died.
Ahead of us stood rows upon rows of rabbit-masked staff.
At their head sat a frail, aristocratic old woman.
Seth murmured, "We're screwed. They caught us."
The old woman regarded us without expression. "Trying to escape?"
Seth swallowed hard. "Alex... we're dead."
I said nothing. I stood frozen.
The old woman's voice was low and commanding. "You've just had surgery. Don't go running around."
Seth blinked. "Surgery? Who are you talking about?"
He turned to me. "Alex, you had surgery?"
I gave a wry smile. "Now, now—don't spoil the surprise."
Seth was utterly lost. "What are you talking about?"
I stepped forward and took Seth's hands in mine. I was beaming.
"You're incredible. You're the luckiest person I've ever met. Why don't you stay here with me?"
Seth sensed something terribly wrong.
But he couldn't let it go. "Alex, what are you talking about?"
My smile broadened. "I'm the mastermind behind the Button Game. All these rabbit-masked people? My staff. And this elderly woman before you? She used to be me. A long time ago, I got cancer. To survive, I developed a brain chip that can store all my memories. If I find a new body and transplant the chip, I can be reborn."
Seth stared at the old woman.
I explained: "This body is old and wearing out. I've already converted her into a robot. That '3' tattooed on her neck? It represents my third body. I like to keep all my used bodies—otherwise, I forget what I used to look like."
Worried he wouldn't understand, I added: "You've heard of lobotomies, right? In the West, they used to lobotomize mentally ill patients—turn them into mindless shells. My method is the exact opposite."
I flashed a proud smile. "Impressive, isn't it? Look at me—I've succeeded. Swapped bodies multiple times. Still kicking. You really are lucky. I don't want to turn you into a mindless robot—that's no fun. Why don't you stay and live with me?"
4
Seth's eyes reddened. He still refused to believe it. "Alex, they operated on you. They modified you—right? If you're really the mastermind, why would you enter your own game?"
I pointed to the camera overhead. "Because people love watching. We record every round and sell it through a limited channel to paying viewers. It's always been contestants—they're bored of the same format. So this time, I announced that the Button Game's owner would enter in disguise. Let the audience bet on which contestant was really me... And it worked. Viewership peaked. The company made a fortune."
I went on, warming to my topic: "And they can pick their favorites from the footage. Dead contestants get turned into robots and auctioned at premium prices. Their organs go where organs are needed. There's more, but I can't explain everything right now. Stay with me, and I'll tell you everything."
Seth listened in stunned silence. "All those rabbit instructors—they were the leftovers? The ones nobody bought, so you turned them into robots... The hundred-million prize, the Rebirth Project—everything was a lie?"
I laughed out loud. "It's obviously a lie! Who'd fall for that? And yet, every year, so many people do. It's hilarious."
Seth's voice was barely a whisper. "What about what you told me before—that you entered this game for your childhood friend. Was that a lie too?"
At that, I sighed. "This body isn't mine. How would I know about some childhood friend? But the blind man getting hit by a car and leaving behind a sick daughter—that part was true. Except the person driving the car was me. I killed him."
Seth's expression shifted to pure, unblinking hatred.
"You lunatic!" he spat. "You deserve to rot in hell! If I get out of here alive, I'm reporting you to the police!"
His words gave me an idea.
I peeled the button sticker off my shirt and waved at the rabbit-masked crowd.
"Harrison. Come here."
A man in a black uniform, spine ramrod straight, stepped forward—his rabbit mask stained with dried blood.
He saluted precisely. "Master, your orders."
I handed him the sticker. "I'm told this contains a pinhole camera. Go check it. If it does, destroy it."
"Yes, Master."
Harrison took the sticker and departed.
Seth had completely broken down.
He shouted after Harrison, "Class monitor! Monitor! It's me—don't you recognize me?"
I tugged my ear. "Stop shouting. He's not your class monitor. He's been a robot from the start. I planted him in the game with pre-programmed directives to protect me."