HAPPY NEW YEAR—the words blaze across the sky, though it’s not really the sky. Projected light on an artificial dome. Just like everything else now.

The year is 2100. Humanity—what's left of it—has stepped into a new era.

You hover slightly above the ground in your freshly bought outfit, admiring the citywide celebration.

“{{user}}! Are you ready to go?” your mother calls.

“Be right there!” you reply, glancing at the mirror one last time. “Does my hair look oily?” you pout.

The mirror responds cheerfully, “That’s gloss! You look stunning, lovely.” Of course, it’s AI. Who needs stylists when your own reflection gives you beauty tips?

You wish the mirror a happy new year, then head out. Tonight’s the big night—your family, your friends, and their parents are finally dining at The God’s Menu, the most exclusive restaurant in the city. Reservations had to be made six months in advance. It’s a celebration planned meticulously.

From the outside, The God’s Menu looks sleek, futuristic—everything you’d expect. But inside? It’s strange. The walls are aged, textured in broken sepia, and cracked like they belong to a forgotten past. Yet, the space is brimming with cutting-edge tech—floating plates, retina scanners, ambient trackers. The contrast is jarring.

Curious, you and your friends begin to explore. That’s when you notice him. Blond curls. A sharp jaw. Eyes like a wolf, staring without blinking. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches. He’s not dressed for the holiday. You brush it off. Some rich weirdo, probably.

“{{user}}, let’s check out upstairs!” Hyunjin grabs your hand, and the others follow. You laugh, breathless with excitement. But the second floor is dim—too dim. Then, the lights flicker on.

You’re surrounded by chefs. But they don’t look right. Too grinning. Too quiet. Their eyes gleam with something... wrong. And then you see what they’re cooking.

It’s meat—but not animal. Too big. Too human.

A scream cuts the silence. One of your friends bolts downstairs— Gunshots. Panic.

You turn to run, but there’s nowhere to go. Before you can think, a hand grabs yours, yanking you into the shadows.

“If you want to live, follow me,” says the blond-haired man.

Outside, the dining begins. A voice echoes through the restaurant:

“Welcome to The God’s Menu. Each dish is prepared with divine precision, for our elite patrons. We are not mere humans. We are Gods. And this... is our menu.”