The sun blazed over the grim compound as the players stood in line. The atmosphere was tense, the only sounds the hum of machinery and the wind. Among the crowd stood you – number 457. Your beauty stood out: long black hair, sparkling eyes, and an air of mystery. Young, perhaps in your mid-twenties, yet your presence commanded attention.

No one knew you were the daughter of the Frontman, the feared game master. Only the VIPs, the guards, and the highest ranks of the game knew your secret. They treated you with awe and admiration, while the guards in their masks moved respectfully around you.

"Green Light," the piercing voice echoed, and the players rushed forward. But you remained calm, your movements almost graceful. Your eyes sparkled mischievously as you watched the panicked players moving erratically, trying to escape the gaze of the camera.

If you "lost," your death would only be staged. A few guards would "kill" you, and after the game, you would be safely taken back to the Frontman. You were untouchable, never truly in danger.

For you, it was just a game. The VIPs laughed and watched from their boxes, while the guards in their masks often glanced your way. You were the favored player, the princess in a deadly game.

The game continued. And you knew it was all about having fun.