Player 0: Foundation of a Fallen World
Chapter 2 — Six Hours and Seventeen Minutes
The heart monitor beeped at a steady rhythm.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Bow had hated that sound from the moment she entered the room.
It sounded like someone constantly reminding her that her little brother was still here—but still refusing to open his eyes.
Phod lay motionless on the bed, a white bandage wrapped around his head. His face was paler than usual, and an IV line ran down from one arm.
Mom had been holding his hand since the afternoon, until her own palm grew damp.
Dad sat on the other side without saying a word, his arms folded tightly and his eyes fixed almost constantly on his son's face.
Bow stood with her back against the window.
“What did the doctor say again?”
Mom turned to her. “His condition is stable now.”
“I asked about waking up.”
The room fell silent.
Mom pressed her lips together before answering softly. “We have to wait and see.”
The words wait and see irritated Bow even more than I don't know would have.
When they arrived at the hospital, the doctor said Phod's heart had stopped for a while during the incident, but the staff had managed to bring him back. The initial examination hadn't found anything requiring emergency surgery.
Everything sounded like good news.
Except for the fact that the person himself still lay there as if he had nothing to do with any of it.
Bow walked over and stopped beside the bed.
“Hey, Phod.”
Mom shot her a look. “Call your brother properly.”
“If calling him properly would wake him up, I'd call him Mr. Phod.”
There was no argument in response.
Bow stared at his face for a moment, then lightly flicked the edge of his blanket.
“You really are good at finding trouble, huh? You went to school for one day and ended up with a private room to lie around in.”
Dad spoke without looking at her.
“Enough, Bow.”
“I’m just talking to him.”
“He can't hear you yet.”
Bow went quiet for a moment.
“Then let him hear me.”
The end of the sentence came out softer than usual.
Mom slowly stroked the back of Phod's hand.
On the table beside the bed sat a plastic bag containing his school uniform. The white shirt was wrinkled, with a dark brown stain around the collar.
Bow tried not to look at it for too long.
“What did the school say?”
Dad's jaw shifted.
“His homeroom teacher called. She said they're questioning the students who were in the classroom.”
“Questioning?” Bow gave a short laugh. “Three people ganged up on my little brother and slammed his head into the floor, and the school is ‘questioning’ them?”
“Bow.”
“What, Mom? Where am I wrong?”
Dad sighed. “I’m not letting this slide.”
The short sentence made her stop.
Dad wasn't a man of many words. So when he spoke in that tone, no one in the family needed to ask him to repeat himself.
Bow dragged a chair over and sat down.
“If he wakes up first, I’m slapping him once.”
Mom whipped around. “Bow!”
“I mean Phod.” She pointed at the person on the bed. “His mouth is filthy, but he’s built like a toothpick, and he still went out of his way to provoke them.”
Mom looked ready to scold her, but in the end, she burst out laughing through her tears.
Dad shook his head.
The tension in the room eased for only a few seconds.
Then the heart monitor continued beeping.
Beep... Beep...
There was no sound from Phod.
In the darkness no one could see, another set of white letters moved silently across the void.
[Player Number: 0]
[Foundation System connection... 18%]
[Stabilizing vital signs]
[Time remaining before the Selection: 03:42:16]
Phod was unaware of it.
He didn't even know he was still alive.
The afternoon slowly slipped into evening.
The hospital continued operating as it did every day. Wheelchairs passed in front of the room. Nurses called out for patients' relatives. A small child cried at the far end of the hallway. The smell of rice from the cafeteria downstairs mingled with the scent of disinfectant.
The wall-mounted television reported traffic in Bangkok, rain in some areas, and political news Dad wasn't paying attention to.
The world still had its own problems.
No one knew it had less than four hours left in its current state.
Around five in the evening, Bow went downstairs to buy coffee.
An old man sat in a wheelchair in front of the elevator while his granddaughter crouched to tie his shoelaces.
“We’re going home now, Grandpa. The doctor said you need to get plenty of rest.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You nag even more than your mother.”
Bow smiled faintly.
A few yards away, a middle-aged woman in a patient gown stood talking on the phone.
“The results still aren’t out... Don’t come. I’ll call you myself.”
She tried to sound firm, but her fingertips were trembling.
Bow walked past.
At that moment, the old man still didn't know that in a few hours, he'd be given another chance to gamble with his life.
The sick woman didn't know either.
And no one knew that some kinds of hope would cost more than death.
Bow came back with three cups of coffee and a bottle of soy milk.
She set the bottle beside Phod's bed.
“Drink it when you wake up. If you don't wake up, I'll drink it myself.”
Mom shook her head. “He can't drink yet.”
“I know.”
“Then why'd you buy it?”
Bow hesitated.
“He likes it.”
That was all.
Dad turned to look out the window instead.
A long while passed.
A little after six, the evening light over Khon Kaen began to dim with unnatural speed.
At first, no one paid attention.
Then the birds began to cry out.
It wasn't their usual call.
An enormous flock of birds shot past the hospital windows all at once, as though something were driving them from the west.
People in the hallway began to stop and stare.
“What are those? There are so many.”
“Maybe it's going to rain.”
“There isn't a cloud in the sky.”
Bow set down her phone.
The lights in the room flickered once.
Beep—
Phod's heart monitor stuttered for a moment before returning to normal.
Mom shot to her feet. “Nurse!”
“Mom, wait—it’s back to normal.”
Then everyone's phones in the room vibrated at the same time.
It wasn't an incoming call.
There was no message.
The screens simply went dark for one second, then lit up on their own.
The digital clock was frozen at
18:17:42
Bow frowned.
“What the hell is this...?”
Beside Phod's bed, in a world no one could see—
[Foundation System connection... 100%]
[Player 0 confirmed]
[The Selection of humanity is beginning]
Then a voice rang out from the hallway.
“Hey... Look at the sky!”
Everyone turned at once.
Dad reached the window first.
Mom followed slowly.
Bow stood beside Phod's bed, not knowing why the hair all over her arms had suddenly risen.
In the sky above Khon Kaen, an impossibly thin white line stretched from one edge to the other.
There was no sound.
No thunder.
No clouds.
The line slowly split apart.
Like a slash across an enormous pane of glass.
And then—
The sky began to crack.