At three in the morning, I received a food delivery order for a funeral home.
There was only one note: Please wear a red raincoat.
That night, I almost didn’t make it back alive.
Eerie rules have invaded reality. Ordinary people die the moment they come into contact with them.
And I, a former scout who’d been delivering food for two years after leaving the army,
was dragged into the deepest secrets of the world’s hidden side because I looked back when I shouldn’t have.
Fortunately, I had an ace up my sleeve that nobody could have guessed.
At the critical moment, I called the emergency number my former company commander gave me when I left the army.
There was only one sentence from the other end of the line: “Location confirmed. Comrade Chen Mo, your country is with you.”
Three minutes later, an armed helicopter hovered overhead.
From that day on, I was no longer delivery rider 0217.
I was Field Operative 0217 of the National Center for Abnormal Incident Response.
The rules want people dead.
The nation wants to save them.
And those who dare to plant dungeons on our land…
They’ll have to get past my dead body first.
