Chapter 1

One blazing midsummer day, 49 of my colleagues and I are suddenly added to an unfamiliar gaming group chat. A notification window popped up with a message.

"Attention, players. This is a survival game set in an apocalyptic world. Players who succeed in surviving for a week will get a share of the 100 million dollar prize pool."

The system then dropped a ten-million-dollar gift that anyone could claim, as if it were afraid that we wouldn't believe it.

My colleagues, who at first believed that we had somehow gotten ourselves involved in a scam, immediately changed their tune when they got their hands on the money.

"Oh, my God! So, all I have to do is survive for a week to earn so much money? Who even cares about working anymore?"

"Hurry and tell us more! Stop dawdling!"

The assistant manager, Frank Gideon, calmly chimes in, "What happens if we don't survive? Or if someone quits halfway through the game?"

"The game will be reset if all players perish. If there is a winner, the game will end. The players who quit halfway will have to return all the money that they claimed from the gift earlier."

The group chat fell silent for two minutes before those who failed to claim the money earlier cried out that they had lost out. Meanwhile, some insisted that they wanted to leave the group chat.

However, all 50 players remained in the group. The temptation of the 100 million dollar prize pool was too strong, so they ended up staying even if they weren't sure if the system was being truthful or lying to them.

Since nobody left, the system listed out the first set of choices for us to select.

"Please choose your safehouse:

"1. An apartment built of plastic in the biggest desert in the world with no water or electricity

"2. A military armory

"3. A luxury RV with a full tank

"4. An air raid shelter in the city with airtight doors

"5. A campsite with ample supplies on Seafoam Island."

"You should pick the campsite, Ms. Johnson! You're usually so good at keeping track of things. Our minds would be at ease with you taking stock of our resources!"

"He's right, Ms. Johnson! We can even form a team later!"

In the end, I was the only one who chose the plastic apartment in the desert.

The manager, Riley Johnson, sent a string of exclamation marks before asking, "Have you lost your mind, Molly Hampton? The game is named 'War of the Plants'. You're going to burn to a crisp within three days if you stay in a plastic apartment in the middle of the desert with no water or electricity."

"Did Molly just pick the first option she saw because she wanted to be cool and different?"

"She's just a junior manager too. Her choice makes no sense at all. What a fool."

Riley was a social butterfly and was the darling of the company. The moment the words left her lips, several male colleagues began mocking me as well. Those who were considering picking the plastic apartment in the desert also immediately changed their selection.

We were locked into our selections once the five-minute timer was up.

The system then sent us a reminder. "All players have temporary administrative rights. The players who selected the same safehouses are free to form teams with each other. Team members will be sent to the same location."

Riley tagged everyone in the group chat and said, "Did anyone choose the campsite on Seafoam Island? Let's form a team and have a party there!"

Dozens of male colleagues immediately sent Riley requests to team up with her.

Feeling incredibly smug, she tagged me and said, "Oh, I didn't expect so many people to want to team up with me. Why don't some of you join Molly? It's so sad that nobody picked her."

Riley wasn't wrong. Despite there being 50 players, I was the only one who was alone.

Frank finally spoke up to smooth the situation over after the rest of the players relentlessly mocked me. "Let's not fight among ourselves. When does the next step begin, System?"