Christopher walked in quietly and sat on the couch, still wearing that soft, concerned smile that didn't belong to the man I knew. Lucy handed him a glass of water and started chatting about the lasagna bowl like everything was perfectly normal. Abel and Oliver stood awkwardly near the doorway, their eyes darting around the room as if every object might suddenly transform into something else.
Before the headache could split my skull open, I forced myself to speak.
"Chris, Abel and Oliver need a ride," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I'll drop them and come back."
Lucy nodded without a single question, without a hint of noticing that my soul was slowly tearing itself apart. "Okay love, don't take long," she said, already turning toward the kitchen again. Christopher stood up, thanked Lucy for the water, and walked toward the door. He didn't sense anything strange, anything wrong, anything out of place. That scared me more than anything else.
The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the air felt different lighter, cooler, unfamiliar. Abel let out a long breath like he'd been holding it since the kid called me Daddy. Oliver slapped his own forehead and whispered, "Bro, this place is gonna fry my brain." We hurried down the hallway, and even the walls felt wrong. The colour was slightly different, the lights brighter, the smell cleaner, like we were walking through a polished copy of my building. Every step made my headache pulse harder.
When we reached the parking area, the sense of wrongness intensified. The entire basement looked upgraded fresh paint, newer signboards, cleaner floors. Cars I had never seen before were lined up neatly in spots where beat-up scooters used to be.
And then I saw it.
A navy blue Rolls Royce Ghost with steel-grey accents sat parked in my spot, shining under the dim yellow lights like it didn't belong in any version of my life. My hand loosened, the key almost slipping from my fingers. Abel stared like he was witnessing a miracle he didn't want. "Bro… this car looks like it costs more than my building," he whispered. Oliver shook his head slowly. "You're telling me you bought this? You don't even like luxury cars."
I didn't answer. I pressed the unlock button and the Rolls Royce blinked its lights softly, almost politely, as if welcoming the wrong version of me. The three of us climbed inside, and the silence of the cabin swallowed us instantly. The leather smelled new. The ceiling shimmered faintly with tiny LED stars. The interior felt too expensive, too polished, too foreign.
Abel leaned forward, rubbing the dashboard with the tips of his fingers. "This is your car in this world," he said quietly.
Oliver muttered, "This world is going to destroy us."
For a few moments we just sat there three people inside a millionaire's car, surrounded by a version of reality that didn't belong to us. My head throbbed again, sharp and quick. Oliver said, "What do we do now? We can't go back upstairs. We're gonna slip up and mess everything." Abel nodded. "We don't even know what this world is. Who's alive. Who's dead. What's changed. We're blind."
I closed my eyes, letting the pain settle for a moment, and then the answer rose up through the chaos like it had been waiting the whole time.
Everything started in that basement. Everything began under RedTie. The file. The mask. The nine stars. The golden door. The light. That place wasn't just a room — it was a doorway. A trigger. Whatever happened, whatever world we were standing in now… it started there.
"We go back," I said finally, opening my eyes. "To RedTie. To the basement. To the door. If we want answers… that's the only place we'll find them."
Both of them went silent. They knew I was right.
I started the engine, the purr of the Rolls Royce humming gently through the steering wheel, and for the first time since the golden flash swallowed us, the three of us were headed somewhere with purpose.
As we pulled up in front of RedTie, everything inside me twisted. The building looked the same from a distance same glass walls, same tall structure but something about it felt refreshed. Like someone had scrubbed it, renovated it, fed it money and power it never had in my real world. The logo above the entrance gleamed brighter, almost polished, and even the security gate looked newer.
We stepped out of the Rolls Royce, trying to look normal. My pulse was hammering but I kept my face calm. Abel and Oliver stayed close, their eyes circling every detail. We walked through the main doors as if nothing had happened and instantly everything felt wrong.
Employees were everywhere. Moving, talking, walking, typing, carrying files, tapping on tablets. The place was busier than usual. But the strangest part? Every single person looked at me. Some smiled politely, some nodded respectfully, and others straight-up greeted me.
"Good morning, sir." "Good morning, Denny!" "Morning!" "Morning, sir!"
I kept walking, but my chest tightened with every greeting. Usually two or three people greeted me only the ones who actually knew me. But now literally everyone acknowledged me. Interns. Security. Tech analysts. Finance guys. Even HR staff who always pretended not to see me suddenly smiled like I was their favorite person.
Oliver leaned in slightly. "Bro… why is everyone greeting you like you're their boss?"
Abel muttered, "In our world they barely greet the CEO this much."
I ignored the panic climbing my throat and headed to my cabin. The moment I pushed the door open… everything inside me froze.
My cabin — my actual cabin was a small room with one desk, one chair, a small window and barely enough space for three people to stand in. But this cabin wasn't mine. It wasn't even close.
This room was huge. Twice the width. A giant glass wall overlooking the city. A sleek black desk with chrome edges. A leather executive chair. Two extra couches. A private coffee station. A digital screen on the wall displaying analytics. It looked more like a boardroom than a workspace.
My legs felt weak. I stepped inside slowly, touching the table, the armrests, the smooth surface of the desk.
And that's when something caught my eye. A nameboard. Sleek, shiny, placed right at the center of the desk like it belonged there.
DENNISON R. CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER
My breath stopped. My vision blurred. CEO?
I grabbed the nameboard with trembling fingers. This had to be a mistake. A glitch. A joke. But right behind my desk, near the shelf, a tiny light blinked on the digital record rack. As if something inside was waiting for me. I reached for it, slid open the panel, and a folder popped out — smooth, metallic, labeled in neat handwriting.
REDTIE ACQUISITION — YEAR 4 AGO Owner: Dennison R.
My stomach dropped so hard I felt dizzy. Abel grabbed a file from the shelf and flipped it open, his eyes bulging. "Denny… it says here you bought this entire company four years ago." Oliver pulled another record. "BRO. This world thinks you're the CEO. This world thinks you OWN RedTie."
I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe.
In my world, I was just an employee. In this world… I was the man at the top.
And suddenly it all made sense — the greetings, the respect, the upgraded car, the upgraded cabin, the luxury, the flawless version of my life in this reality.
Abel whispered, "Denny… what if the chamber didn't send us to a random world? What if it sent us to a world built around your choices? Your regrets? Your possibilities?"
I stared at the CEO badge in my hand, my reflection warped in its chrome.