"Shit, shit, shit! Why always me? Why now?" I muttered to myself in disbelief.

I had already entered the Alpha and chosen my character, a girl. But before you jump to any perverted thoughts, let me clarify: the accident had robbed me of my sexual instincts too, so there was no room for such desires.

I changed my mind and I desperately tried to exit the game, but my attempts were futile. That's when the unease started creeping in. Instead of finding myself in a typical girl's room, I was trapped in a bedroom that felt entirely alien. Frantically, I searched for the Death Note, but it was nowhere to be found.

The clock on the wall displayed 6:30 in the morning. At first, I thought I was in a private residence, but when I opened the door, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks—I was inside a school dormitory.

On the desk, I noticed a school ID card featuring my character's name, Karen Lasagna. Flipping it over, I found a map of the school, highlighting the location of my classroom.

Several notes adorned the wall above the desk, almost mocking me:

- "You must go to school."

- "Stay strong and don't fall behind."

- "Don't overthink it—just go."

From these cryptic messages, it was evident that attending school held significant importance. Perhaps there, I might finally discover the elusive Death Note.

However, a dilemma soon emerged—I refused to wear the standard short skirt uniform. My eyes caught sight of my school attire hanging before me. After rummaging through the closet, I found a sports uniform that seemed like a viable alternative. Donning it reluctantly, I prepared to leave.

As I ventured through the corridors, not encountering a soul, I became the first to arrive in the classroom.

Gradually, students trickled in, their curious gazes fixated on me—the oddity in unconventional attire.

The last to enter the classroom was a tall, menacing young man, seemingly the epitome of delinquency. Accompanying him were three girls who approached me directly.

Damn it! Must every high school game involve bullying?

But the torment I endured that day surpassed anything I could have anticipated. It ignited a spark of suspicion within me—a glitch in the game, perhaps?

The girls took the lead in this twisted spectacle.

"What are you wearing, my Lasagna? Do you think it'll prevent us from having a taste?" one of them sneered, a cruel grin etched on her face.

My initial plan involved confronting the man, intimidating him into submission. It seemed foolproof—I possessed unwavering confidence in my fighting skills. However, as I prepared to strike, an inexplicable force paralyzed me, rendering me helpless and trembling uncontrollably. It wasn't fear of them; it was fear of the game itself, an eerie and forbidden occurrence. Had I fallen victim to a scam? But how? It couldn't be possible.

Advancing towards me, the girl wasted no time. Without a word, she forcefully removed my sports pants. Yes, you read that right—I stood there, stripped down to my underwear, a victim of their sadistic game. The subsequent events solidified my suspicions of something gravely amiss.

"Come and have a taste before it gets cold," she taunted, her gaze directed at the young man.

Rage boiled within me, yet my limbs remained paralyzed. I yearned to explode, to eradicate them from existence. Helplessness consumed me, intensified by the realization that I was unable to resist. I was trapped in this virtual

 world, confined as a girl, paralyzed, and subjected to relentless molestation. Whoever orchestrated this would pay—I vowed to exact revenge upon them all.

The young man proceeded to shower me with unwelcome kisses, each touch repulsing me until I vomited in disgust, breaking free from the invisible restraints. I seized a chair, prepared to strike, but my attempts were in vain.

"If she hadn't vomited, I would have impregnated her," the young man proclaimed callously.

What in the world was this sick game?

Recovering my composure, I hastily dressed, the stench of vomit clinging to me. I fled the building, tears streaming down my face, seeking refuge in the nearby residence.

Oh, how I longed for the power to end them all.

On my frantic escape, something fell upon my head—a Death Note.

***

"You can't use it against them; they haven't taken any lives," the Shinigami spoke, its voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh! FUCK!"

"Your first mission is to exact revenge solely through the use of the Death Note, and I will provide the answers you seek."