Non Game No Life Novels & Stories

You have no right to interfere in my life. I walked out of the diner. The autumn wind blew over me, a little cold. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Lucas. The shoot location changed tomorrow. I've had someone send you the new address. Rest early. I glanced at it and did not reply. The comments said: [The male lead is panicking.] [Classic move, trying to smear the romantic rival.] [Wait, is it true that Lucas's ex-wife said he was controlling?] [No idea, but the villainess really can't see clearly right now.]

Is one quiet night really too much to ask? I clasped my hands on my ears as the sounds of moans and groans from the other room was piercing through the walls of my bedroom. This is what I get for agreeing to living in the same house with one of the biggest players in campus, just so I could pay cheap rent. I laid down in bed, defeated. I couldn't even get through one sentence with all of the commotion from the other room. What the heck is he even doing to these women to make them scream all night? Is he really that good in bed?

After a few minutes, Amelia sighed and left. ***** HARRISON HIGH~ PRIVATE GAME ROOM. "Dude, what the fuçk was that?" Noah glared at Kyle. "What?" Kyle chuckled, his eyes fixed on the TV screen as he held tightly to his PlayStation controller. "You're cheating, fuçker," Noah snarled as he lost another game. "Step up your game. I'm not," Kyle said calmly. "Fuçk! I'm done with this," Noah threw his controller away and grabbed the bottle of wine in front of him.

But the air in the room tightened like a noose. He stepped around the table with deliberate slowness, the silver clasp of his holster glinting under the low light. “I’m not a god,” he said evenly. “I’m the man who decides if you live long enough to finish your sentence.” Lamberto bared his teeth, equally rising to his feet. “You don’t scare me, boy.” The click of Montez’s pistol chambering a round was louder than any shout. One second Lamberto was sneering but in the next, the shot rang out—sharp, deafening in the enclosed space.

The kind of look one would give a stranger on the street—no love, no hate, nothing at all. At last, he understood. He had lost me forever. Months later, I read in the news that Joe's university was embroiled in an academic scandal. Ivy's family was implicated too, and their empire crumbled into bankruptcy. Sasha called, gossiping that Joe could not withstand the blow and had gone mad. Meanwhile, my Rebirth series won the International Art Gold Award of the year. When I heard the news, Nathan came out of the studio, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and rested his chin lightly on my shoulder.

“What the hell is this place?” Before he could answer, we were interrupted by a loud static from an overhead speaker. “Welcome to THE Survival Game!” a distorted voice announced. “Congratulations, you are all dead! But because hell is currently in recycle mode due to the greenhouse effect, you’re being sent to dead worlds as entertainment!” I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” The voice kept going: “Please provide the fanciest death you can. Or fanciest kills if you have what it takes to be a predator. The audience loves those.”

The group fell silent, the weight of his words unsettling. “The Reflection Game,” Ardan continued, “was not created by mortals. It was forged by the Seven Immortals during the Age of Chaos. They designed it as a tool to test humanity, to separate the weak from the strong. Every century, the game manifests, seeking out individuals who embody courage, wisdom, and determination. But there’s a catch—it thrives on sacrifice and conflict. The more you resist, the harder it fights back.” Mia’s voice trembled as she asked, “So... what happens if we fail?”

She said, “Five minutes for each. After that check who got more dolls.” Dong Jun accepted for her words. Dong Jun and that girl started to play the claw machine game. They both started to play. The girl is trying to pick the doll but she couldn’t get anything. Dong Jun got more dolls again and again. The five minutes over. Dong Jun said, “I won. Let me know your name.” She said, “I am Yoo Na.” She gives him her number. She said, “Don’t share my phone number with others. I need my own privacy.”

“Oh, right. I guess you can’t force it on him.” I shake my head. My parents have tried many times and it hasn’t worked. Life isn’t like a book or a movie. Not everyone gets a happily ever after or even an epic exit scene. Some people coexist with the rest of the world, functioning on a level of minimum survival, living for themselves and not caring what the fuck they do to other people. That’s Bobby. “Do you have to write a formal letter or anything to let the fellowship people know you’ve accepted?” Quinn asks as she picks off her nail polish.

] [May all your plans work out perfectly. [Live long and stay healthy!] [May everything work out perfectly for you!] … They were the notes William and I had left behind, one by one, in different corners of the city. And then, internet sleuths uncovered another account. The username was 'GimmeThatResurrectionScroll'. It contained only one post—a short video with text and audio. [You made it. If we never meet again in this life, then I hope today is kind to you. Tomorrow too. And every day after—always.]