A few days ago, I received a call from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
My father had gone missing.
And so—
I was on my way to Egypt.
My father was an archaeologist.
He had joined a massive international research project—an unprecedented excavation of the Great Pyramid of Khufu.
It had already been a week.
Communication with the site had been completely lost.
Not a single member of the research team had returned.
The Egyptian government was in an uproar.
So was the rest of the world.
News outlets across the globe were covering the incident.
When I arrived—
I was met by a wall of cameras.
Reporters surrounded me, asking questions about my father.
Flashes of light burned into my eyes.
I was just an average college student.
Standing there—
in front of the world's media—
felt unreal.
With the help of Egyptian officials, I exited through a restricted route.
The sunlight was brutal.
Dry heat—different from Japan.
It clung to my skin in a way I wasn't used to.
I boarded a bus arranged for the families.
Inside were others like me—
relatives of missing archaeologists.
People from all over the world.
After a while—
they came into view.
The pyramids.
The three great pyramids of Egypt rose before us.
Though only 137 meters tall, their presence was overwhelming.
Two million three hundred thousand stones.
A structure that crushed the human spirit with its sheer existence.
The bus stopped in the desert.
Temporary trailers had been set up nearby.
I was guided into one of the tents.
"Welcome to Egypt."
A large man greeted me.
His face made it clear he was Egyptian.
His Japanese was fluent.
He gripped my hand with surprising strength.
He would be my porter—
and interpreter.
"There will be a briefing soon. Please leave your luggage and come outside."
I followed his instructions.
The sun struck me again as I moved toward another tent.
Inside—
families and translators had gathered.
Egyptian officials began explaining the situation.
Through translation—
I learned what had happened.
The focus of the excavation had been a new discovery within the King's Chamber.
Located near the center of the pyramid.
Something significant had been found.
That was why experts from across the world had been assembled.
Then—
one week ago—
the entire team vanished.
Equipment remained.
But the people—
were gone.
The government searched everywhere.
Inside the pyramid.
Outside.
Across the country.
Airports.
Borders.
Nothing.
They had simply—
disappeared.
The search continued.
But the government had begun to give up.
This meeting—
was to return the belongings of the missing.
Some families cried.
Others demanded further investigation.
The tent descended into chaos.
But I—
remained calm.
My relationship with my father had never been good.
After my mother died five years ago—
we barely spoke.
He sent money.
That was all.
I left the tent.
Guided by the porter—
I entered my father's trailer.
His presence lingered.
More than I expected.
His desk was a mess.
Documents scattered everywhere.
Most of them were in English.
Too difficult for me to fully understand.
His belongings were minimal.
Clothes.
A notebook.
A phone.
Inside the notebook—
I found a photograph.
A family trip to Hokkaido.
From when my mother was still alive.
It felt… unexpected.
Then—
I found something else.
A page filled with rough handwriting.
Unlike his usual careful script.
A memo.
"King's Chamber.Throne.Shape.Numbers."
That was all.
The writing stopped there.
The rest of the notebook was blank.
I checked his phone.
It was locked.
Old model.
Nothing unusual.
The mystery deepened.
That night—
I lay in the tent, messaging my girlfriend back in Tokyo.
We had been together for three years.
She had a goal.
She was studying to become a childcare worker.
I had nothing.
No direction.
No purpose.
Talking about the future only made it worse.
I felt like I was sinking.
Then—
a phone rang.
My father's phone.
An unknown number.
I answered.
Static.
Distorted noise.
Then—
a voice.
Faint.
Broken.
"…King's Chamber……the throne…"
My father.
"Dad! Where are you?!"
The call ended.
I couldn't trace it.
The phone was still locked.
I grabbed everything—
his phone,
my phone,
the notebook—
and ran.
Toward the pyramid.
I entered through the tourist entrance.
Lights from the investigation still illuminated the interior.
Through narrow stone passages.
Up the shafts.
Into the Grand Gallery.
And finally—
the King's Chamber.
No one was there.
Only equipment.
And silence.
What now?
Then I remembered.
"Throne. Shape. Numbers."
I approached the stone sarcophagus.
Nothing.
Just stone.
I took out my father's phone.
The passcode screen appeared.
I tried his birthday.
Wrong.
My mother's birthday.
Wrong.
Then—
mine.
Unlocked.
I called the unknown number.
No response.
Then I noticed it.
An unfamiliar app.
A map-like interface.
When I opened it—
a radar appeared.
It showed the layout of the chamber.
And—
a red point.
Behind the wall.
I followed it.
Dead end.
But the app insisted.
I touched the wall.
One stone—
slightly discolored.
Square-shaped.
"Shape…"
I traced it.
And—
the world changed.
I stood in a different corridor.
Something approached from the darkness.
A figure.
No—
a monster.
A massive body.
A dog-like face.
A sword in its hand.
It charged.
I ran.
Faster than ever before.
Dead end.
Then—
a slot in the wall.
Without thinking—
I shoved my phone into it.
It fit perfectly.
The wall opened.
I ran—
and fell.
Into darkness.
Then—
impact.
I was sitting.
A throne.
Before me—
a golden chamber of impossible scale.
And then—
knowledge flooded my mind.
Like water draining away.
I understood.
The King's Chamber.
The throne.
Shape.
Numbers.
Why Khufu built the pyramid.
Everything.
I stood.
Walked to the golden wall.
And wrote a number.
The number on my shirt tag.
The gold turned silver.
The wall opened.
Beyond it—
a golden passage.
My father was there.
The others too.
The throne had shown me.
Everything has meaning.
Every shape.
Every number.
And beyond this point—
only those who understand them
may proceed.
The King's Intent — End