He stood there in shock—his whole body frozen from fear and his vision all blurry. His eyes were wide open, his breath audible from a distance... And before him stood his phone. All he could see at that moment... Was his phone.

"Ziel, I'm scared... Help m—"

"wake up!"

He gasped as he woke up, his palms drenched in sweat and his forehead burning hot. In front of him stood a beautiful young girl with long white hair and captivating blue eyes. Her pale skin contrasted with her vibrant demeanor, which now held a look of genuine worry as she reached out towards him with a concerned expression.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Ziel blinked, his mind struggling to shake the lingering haze of his nightmare. He squinted at her—confusion tugging at his words. "Who... Who are you?"

"Semi," she said simply, her voice steady though her eyes flickered with curiosity. You suddenly collapsed, and I... Well, I couldn't just leave you there."

As Ziel replayed the scene in his mind, he could feel it all over again—the dizziness, the sudden heaviness in his limbs, the way the world tilted as if the building swallowed him whole. One step and then... Nothing.

"Sorry, I didn't get any sleep last night and must've collapsed from exhaustion. Thanks for looking after me," Ziel replied, knowing full well that it wasn't from exhaustion.

"You don't need to thank me; I didn't really do anything. Just don't push yourself too hard—I might not be here the next time you faint," Semi said as she walked away with a waving gesture.

And with that, she was gone, leaving Ziel sitting there, still trying to catch his breath—and make sense of the strange, vivid dream.

"I'm missing something... But what is it? "

Ziel rose to his feet, surveying his surroundings. He found himself in an expansive hall, where a rich red carpet stretched beneath him. Though the room was largely vacant, it was filled with a sea of over a thousand people. Gracefully shaped round pillars soared to support the high ceiling, and at the far end of the room, a grand platform loomed, commanding attention amidst the gathering.

Then, without warning, the cacophony of sound abruptly ceased, plunging the room into an unnerving silence. An icy dread spread through the crowd as faint echoes of distant footsteps grew closer.

Out of the shadows, he emerged onto the platform, a sinister grin stretching across his face as though relishing the fear he inspired. No one knew his name, but everyone instinctively understood the gravity of his presence. He was a figure clad entirely in red—coat, pants, hat, and skin, as though he had been drenched in blood. His mask, a grotesque, fixed smile, concealed his true face, while a crimson pole in his hand only added to the chilling spectacle.

His eyes gleamed with a cold, calculated intensity as he raised his arms in a dramatic sweep. "Welcome, humans... to the Tower of Wishes. I am Rutil, the tower's keeper." He chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down their spines. "Time is a precious thing, and I have so little to waste on you, so let’s cut to the chase, shall we?" Rutil’s voice grew more menacing as he took a step closer, his expression darkening. "As you may know, this tower is no ordinary structure. It can grant a single wish to anyone who conquers it. But that’s where your foolishness lies." He smirked, a cruel edge to his smile. "Beyond these doors, only despair awaits—despair so profound it will haunt your every breath. I will shatter your pride, grind it to dust, and carve hopelessness into the very core of your being! YOU SHALL NOT LEAVE THIS PLACE, ALIVE!" He added with a calm voice. "And with that, let the slaughter begin."

A heavy silence fell over the room, thick with the weight of Rutil’s words. The crowd stood frozen, shock rendering them mute. The stillness was shattered by a man who suddenly bolted toward the entry door, desperation in his eyes.

"SCREW THIS, I HAVE A FAMILY TO GET TO!"

He pounded on the door, his fists bruising, his shoulders heaving as he pulled and scratched at it with futile desperation. The door remained unmoved, unyielding to his frantic efforts. Defeated, the man fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he grappled with the crushing reality of his helplessness.

The room, once filled with hopeful anticipation, was now a tableau of terror. Faces were pale, eyes wide with fear, but no one dared to make a move. Everyone had come here knowing the risks, but the stark reality of Rutil’s threat was too much to bear. Even those who had steeled themselves felt their bodies tremble uncontrollably.

The figure of Rutil, clad in ominous red, seemed to embody death itself, a living nightmare manifest.

Amidst the rising panic, one person stood apart from the trembling crowd. Ziel, his face a mask of cold fury, showed no sign of fear. His eyes were locked on Rutil with a burning intensity, the only emotion clear on his face was a fierce, unrelenting anger.

Rutil scanned the frightened crowd, his gaze piercing through their unease. "I think it’s time I explain how this tower works," he began, his voice chilling in its certainty. "On each floor, you will face a game. Each game has its own rules. Fail to follow them, and you die on the spot. You're being watched at all times, so don't bother trying anything clever."

He gestured to a heavy, sealed door beside him. "Your first game waits behind this door. Some of you might have tried to open it already, but it won't budge until I give the signal. Before you enter, I need to explain the rules… but first, let me tell you a little story."

Rutil’s tone shifted, growing darker, more deliberate. "There once was a boy who could hear the ticking of death approaching. Every second, every heartbeat, a countdown to his end. Tick… tick… tick... He could hear it, like a clock in his ear. One day, the ticking stopped—and so did the boy’s heart. You might think he was different from the rest of us. But he wasn’t. He was a normal boy, healthy and full of life. So why did he hear those sounds?"

Rutil paused, letting the tension settle. "The truth is, we all do. We're just too ignorant to listen. Deep down, we all know an inevitable death is coming, creeping closer with each passing second. And the best part?" His smile twisted. "There's nothing you can do to stop it."

With a theatrical sweep of his arm, Rutil threw open the door. The sight was grotesque—a mass of corpses piled on the floor, their faces frozen in terror. The walls were hidden behind countless clocks, all ticking away in eerie.

"Can you hear it?" Rutil’s voice rang out. "The sound of your own death, approaching… Tick… tick… tick… Oh, the pressure! Can you feel the adrenaline rushing in, the weight of inevitability bearing down on you?"

The crowd hesitated, but eventually, a man stepped forward, stumbling into the room. His eyes went wide at the sight of the bodies, and he doubled over, vomiting onto the floor. As his retching subsided, his ears tuned in to the sound. Tick… tick… tick…

His face drained of color. "I hear it... I can hear it..."

One by one, as the rest of the group stepped into the room, they began to hear the ticking, too. The noise gnawed at their minds, relentless and unforgiving.

Rutil’s grin widened. "Will you be able to stop the ticking and leave this floor? We’ll find out soon enough."

A voice broke through the growing tension. "So we just have to break the clocks, right? It’s that simple! Everyone, help me smash them!"

People rushed to follow the suggestion, grabbing whatever they could find to shatter the clocks. Wood splintered, glass shattered, gears spun uselessly across the floor. But Ziel didn’t move. His brow furrowed as he watched the chaos around him, suspicion growing in his mind.

"Could it really be this simple?" He thought back to Rutil’s ominous words. "He promised despair, not an easy task. Why did we all start hearing the ticking at different times? And why do I only hear one clock, when there are so many?"

Ziel stepped closer to a large clock on the wall. The hands were moving, but something felt off. "The hands aren’t synchronized," he muttered under his breath.

He took a few steps through the room. No change. "The sound doesn’t get louder or softer. It’s constant, like it’s not coming from the clocks at all."

Before he could explore his thoughts further, someone shoved him. "Why aren’t you helping?" The man’s eyes were wild, desperate. "We need to break them all!"

Ziel shook his head. "It's no use. The sounds aren’t coming from the clocks."

"What? Then what else could it be?" the man demanded.

"I don’t know… not yet."

"You’re overthinking it!" The man threw his hands up in frustration and rejoined the frantic smashing, his fear turning into fury.

Ziel took a deep breath and scanned the room, feeling the pressure build. "I don’t have much time left…"

Finally, a cheer went up as the last clock was destroyed. "We did it! We’re free!"

But their celebration quickly fell into stunned silence. The ticking didn’t stop.

"No… no! We broke the clocks! Why isn’t it stopping?" The crowd looked around for Rutil, but he was nowhere to be found.

A woman screamed, clutching her head. "The ticking! It’s getting louder! Am I going to die here?!"

Ziel’s eyes darted around the room. There were fewer people than before. "Did they figure it out? Have they stopped the sound and left without anyone noticing?"

His gaze landed on the door. "What if it’s open? What if I just walk through? Rutil never gave specific rules about how to win this game. And he never said the ticking was real. What if it’s all in my head?"

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. "It's not real... It's not real!"

Ziel sprinted toward the door. As he reached it, he looked back at the others, now lost in their own spiraling panic, clawing at their ears, trying in vain to silence the ticking.

"EVERYONE, LISTEN TO ME!" Ziel shouted, his voice desperate. "The sound isn’t real! It’s all in your head! We just need to leave! There was no game to begin with!"

But his words fell on deaf ears. The survivors were too far gone, too consumed by fear to hear reason. One man bit his lip so hard it bled, his eyes wide with madness. And then, his body went limp, collapsing to the ground, dead from sheer terror.

Ziel clenched his fists, helpless. He had no choice but to leave them behind. He took one last glance at the broken clocks, at the people who had already lost their sanity, and then stepped through the door, his heart pounding with fury.

As the door closed behind him, the ticking lingered in his mind. Had it really stopped? Or was it still there, somewhere, just quieter now… waiting?