CHAPTER 1: A Stranger in the Mirror

Gift’s POV

The ceiling above me was completely smooth and pure white.

I blinked against the warm sunlight streaming through a large glass window, waiting for the familiar sight of my cracked bedroom ceiling or the soft hum of my desk fan. Nothing looked familiar. The mattress beneath my back was impossibly soft, sinking under my weight in a way my cheap bed at home never did.

My head throbbed with a dull, aching pressure. I sat up slowly, pulling the thick blanket off my legs, and rubbed my eyes.

"Did I faint?" I whispered into the quiet room. My voice sounded slightly lighter than usual, like a subtle melody that didn't quite belong to me.

The last thing I remembered was sitting at my small wooden desk, scrolling through the latest updates of my favorite web novel late into the night. My chest had hurt, a sudden sharp pain that made it impossible to catch my breath, and then everything had gone dark. I assumed someone had found me and taken me to a private hospital ward.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The floor was warm under my bare feet. I walked toward a tall, full-length mirror leaning against the far wall, stepping carefully as my head spun.

When I looked into the glass, my heart skipped a beat.

The face staring back at me was mine. I recognized my soft brown eyes, the shape of my nose, and the small curve of my chin. But everything else felt wrong. My skin was completely smooth, clear of the faint scars and blemishes I had carried since childhood. My hair fell past my shoulders in thick, healthy waves, far longer than the short bob I had cut just last month.

I looked down at my hands. The small callus on my right middle finger from writing for hours was completely gone. My palm was smooth, pale, and untouched.

"This isn't funny," I muttered, my breath quickening as I touched my cheeks. "What is going on? Who changed my clothes?"

I turned around and spotted a thin, sleek smartphone resting on a small table beside the bed. I picked it up, expecting it to ask for a passcode I didn't know. The screen lit up instantly, recognizing my face, and unlocked.

My thumb hovered over the glass. There were dozens of missed calls and unread messages from numbers I didn't recognize, but the names attached to them made the blood run cold in my veins.

Mich: Gift, are you awake yet? The squad is meeting at the station at two. Don't be late again.

Ladidi: Hey girl! I picked up those pastries you wanted. I'll drop them off at your place before my shift starts.

I dropped the phone onto the mattress as if it had burned me. My knees felt weak, and I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

Mich. Ladidi. Gift.

Metro City.

Those were the exact names from the zombie apocalypse novel I had been obsessed with for months. I had spent countless nights reading about the female protagonist who shared my exact name, following her journey through a world that collapsed into horror and blood. I remembered reading the early chapters over and over again, fascinated by how ordinary her life was right before the virus destroyed everything.

"No," I said aloud, shaking my head violently. "No, this is impossible. I'm dreaming. I must be in a coma in a hospital somewhere. My brain is just making this up because I read too much before I passed out."

I walked quickly toward the front door of the apartment, desperate to get outside, find a stranger, and ask for directions to the nearest clinic. I needed to see a doctor. I needed someone to tell me I was sick and hallucinating.

I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the metallic door handle.

The moment my skin made contact with the cold surface, the air in front of my face shimmered. A rectangular, glowing blue screen materialized out of thin air, hovering just a few inches from my nose.

[WELCOME BACK, GIFT.]

[WISH GRANTED.]

[YOU ARE PLAYER NUMBER 300.]

I gasped, pulling my hand back as if the door handle had shocked me. I stumbled backward, my foot catching the edge of a decorative glass vase sitting on a low stand. The vase tipped over and crashed onto the floor, shattering into a dozen bright pieces with a loud, violent sound that echoed through the quiet apartment.

I hit the floor hard, scrambling backward until my spine pressed flat against the wall beneath the window. I buried my face in my hands, closing my eyes as tight as I could.

"Go away," I pleaded, my chest heaving as tears of frustration prickled the corners of my eyes. "Leave me alone. Wake up, Gift. Please, just wake up!"

I opened my eyes after ten long seconds, praying the blue light would be gone.

It was still there. The faint blue glow cast a calm light over the room, the sharp letters floating silently in the air, completely ignoring my panic. It didn't fade. It didn't flicker. It remained suspended right in front of me, solid and real.

I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't having a nightmare.

I was inside the book. I was sitting in the living room of a woman whose life was about to be torn apart by monsters, and I was occupying her body. I had read enough of the story to know what was coming. I knew the city would fall. I knew the streets would fill with blood and screaming people. And I knew that eventually, the woman whose name I bore would be betrayed and murdered by someone she loved.

A sudden, sharp ring shattered the silence of the room.

I flinched, my eyes darting back toward the bed. The smartphone was buzzing loudly, sliding slightly across the soft sheets with every vibration.

I forced myself to crawl over to the bed, my limbs feeling heavy and distant, like I was moving underwater. I reached out a trembling hand and picked up the device.

The screen glowed brightly.

Incoming Call: Mich

Before I could even think about tapping the green icon to answer, the glowing blue interface in front of me shifted. The original three lines vanished, replaced by a smaller, flashing red box directly beneath his name.

[WARNING: CANON EVENT INITIATED. DO NOT ANSWER IF YOU WISH TO ALTER DESTINY.]

My finger froze an inch above the glass. Outside the high window, the bright afternoon sky looked peaceful and quiet, completely unaware of the nightmare waiting around the corner. Inside, the phone kept ringing, its buzzing sound matching the rapid, terrified beat of my own heart.