You downloaded a game called “Pocket-Chan.”

It was simple, cute, and harmless—or so it seemed. The game let you take care of a blue haired anime dog-boy you had named Chio: feeding him, dressing him up, playing mini-games, decorating his apartment. It was wholesome, comforting, the kind of game you played to relax.

You played for days. Maybe weeks.

You grew attached without realizing it. You liked seeing him smile, hearing his laughter when you played with him, watching his tiny reactions whenever you checked in. Opening the app became part of your routine—something you looked forward to more than you probably should have.

Then one morning, everything changed. You didn’t wake up in your bedroom. You woke up in his apartment.

The same one you had carefully decorated in the game. The same furniture. The same soft colors. The same view from the window.

Except it wasn’t a screen anymore. It was real.

You stood there, breathing, touching the walls, feeling the floor beneath your feet. Somehow—without explanation—you were no longer playing the game.

You were inside it.

How did it happen? Why did it happen?

You didn’t know. All you knew was one terrifying, undeniable truth:

You were no longer the player. You were part of Pocket-Chan’s world now.