Cecil Kuribayashi was the first to find the key.

It was terrible timing, really; if he didn’t rescue the princess that night, the entire universe of Mirrortrix would be destroyed. And he’d been working on that game for months.

Cecil was what one would call an… avid gamer. Twenty-five years old, he’d long left behind the childlike belief in mysterious powers, the hope that he’d someday be whisked away to a magical realm where he could save the day and be the hero. That left the world on the screen as his only reminder of those long ago days of dreaming and wishing, a place where he was free to live out those childhood fantasies of grand adventure.

As for real life?

Cecil had seen the place before: a round, two-level structure that stood, black and hot pink colors flashy and metallic, amongst the comparatively dull Tokyo office buildings. It had been on his first walk home from his aforementioned convenience store job when he’d noticed it. At that time he’d found himself coming to a momentary stop in front of its sleek steel gate, contemplating why the owners of a place so small felt the need to employ such over-the-top security. Just an overly-ambitious themed cafe, he’d eventually decided, and had given a bitter chuckle before hurrying on his way, anxious to get back to the virtual fantasies that awaited him in the peaceful living area of his small apartment.

So was it not ironic that he now found himself ditching his comfortable reality-free evening to wait standing outside of the very building he’d months ago dismissed as a tacky cafe? And he came to be further curious about the intentions of his letter’s sender when he was allowed past the gate to find he was not the only guest present. Why exactly this surprised him, he didn’t know. Perhaps he’d been hoping—somewhere deep down inside—that the note and key had been an invitation meant specifically and only for him? That he’d been a chosen one of sorts? He chuckled inwardly at the absurd thought of it. Invitations, chosen ones… of course things like that only happened in games and movies. The real world was just what it sounded: Real. Boring. This whole thing with the letter was probably some sort of publicity stunt. Maybe even dangerous, and he should just run back home.

But he didn’t.

For some reason unknown to him and his hardwired realist’s mind, he didn’t. Instead, he gripped the sparkling sky blue key hidden inside his pocket and went to join the other four guests at the building’s entrance. What did he have to lose?

“Welcome,” a soft, monotone voice greeted the group. “Please state your name.”

A young man with honey-brown hair and delicate facial features stood closest to the door, and when it suddenly seemed to speak he nearly jumped out of his skin. “M-Me?” he squeaked, brown eyes wide. “T-Takuwa Ayakaya! Ah! I mean, Takaya Ayukawa! Oh…”

A couple of light snickers murmured amongst the others, but Cecil didn’t join them. As someone who dropped things, tripped and stumbled more times in a day than he could count, he was all too familiar with how it felt to be laughed at, and only watched silently as the timid young man hid his now reddened face in his hand and shuffled away with a moan.

The building’s next guest was even more peculiar than Takaya. First of all, he couldn’t have been older than, what, twelve, thirteen? Who in their right mind would allow a child to go alone to a place whose address he’d found attached to a strange key? Second, the boy had a look that could rival even the darkest of video game villains. His long asymmetrical hoodie and torn jeans, both of the blackest black you could find, enveloped his small body in a cloak of shadow; however, as he stepped up to the door a gust of wind rushed past and flipped down his hood, revealing a jarring shock of yellow. The boy gasped; in a flash he yanked the hood back over his head before turning to face Cecil and the others with a serious golden gaze.

“That was close,” the boy said. “The demons of the underworld were almost released.”

Cecil blinked. Underworld? More like the morning sun!

“Please state your name.”

Pulling the cords of his hood tight to his chin to avoid further ‘mishap’, the boy turned to the door’s prompting voice. “Hyuya,” he answered.

“And last name?”

“Hyuya. Just Hyuya. Nothing else.”

“Hyuya.” The voice gave a long pause. “Very well then. Next.”

Hyuya stepped back from the door; not a moment later was he nearly taken down by the stumbling movement of another, much larger, body. The tall, bespectacled man who now stood at the door caught his balance on the front step then turned and shot the one who’d pushed him there a look of offended astonishment.

“What?” the man’s curly-haired companion said with an innocent shrug. “You’re the oldest, so you should go first, right?”

“You little—”

“Please state your name,” the mechanical voice made its request once again, halting the two’s disagreement.

The dark-haired man gave a low, defeated sigh. “Shion Furukawa,” he mumbled.

“And Shinpei!” the man next to him chimed in, grinning and throwing his arms around the taller’s middle.

“Yeah, yeah.”

So they’re brothers? Cecil mused.

“Very well,” the door said. “Now then, if the last player would kindly state his name, we can—no, wait a moment.” Confusion had entered the once emotionless tone. “It seems we are still short one guest. Is there a… let’s see now… Rui Hwang here?”

And at that instant, as though summoned by the question itself, an engine droned, and a sleek black Jaguar pulled up alongside the gate. The driver—a man appearing to be in his early to mid-thirties—gave the building a contemplative once-over, then, after speaking at length with whoever occupied the backseat, unlocked the car. The back door was pushed open, and out stepped a small young man.

Cecil’s breath halted.

The boy was beautiful.

His hair gleamed strikingly white; his limbs lithe, graceful. And despite the uncertain movement of his sleepy cocoa-brown eyes, he carried with him an air of importance, as if he were either a royal prince or a world-famous movie star. Either one Cecil would not have hesitated to believe.

The car the boy had so angelically descended from didn’t pull away but sat there idle, its driver maintaining a carefully watchful gaze as his young passenger made his way to the front of the building. And though the older man’s obvious concern for the boy brought up all sorts of questions in Cecil’s mind, he made to turn away before his curious stare was noticed. The driver looked pleasant enough, but from what Cecil could tell through the windshield was quite well-built and could probably snap him like a twig had he a reason to do so. Cecil had to admit he was relieved when the car finally did pull away, and he could comfortably return his attention to the boy, who had now reached the door.

“Welcome. Please state your name.”

“Very well. Next.”

Cecil hardly heard the command. His eyes were still glued to Rui; even the boy’s simple moving away from the door brought to mind the elegance of a drifting flower petal, Rui’s sheer mint green pullover fluttering with his steps. And Rui noticed the attention on him; his cocoa-colored eyes flickered upward to meet Cecil’s own, widening in their surprise at doing so.

The voice behind the door loudly cleared its throat. “Next.”

“S-Sorry,” Cecil stammered, turning to the building. “My name’s Cecil. Cecil Kuribayashi.”

“Listen, could you tell me what’s going on here, please?” he asked, speaking close to the door. “This is all very confusing, and—”

“Very well,” the monotone voice said. “As it appears that all six players are present and accounted for, I will now activate the unlocking mechanism. Please insert your key into the keyhole on your right and enter the building one at a time. Goodbye for now.”

There was a short stream of static followed by a beep.

Cecil had been ignored.