Late at night, I stumbled upon a live stream titled "Murder Time." The streamer said, "Let me give you a preview of tonight's victim: 31 years old, lives in a suburban villa, last name Sun." My blood ran cold. Those details matched me perfectly. At that exact moment, a voice echoed from downstairs: "Face ID failed." 1 At 2 AM, I was wired from too much coffee earlier in the day. I was doom-scrolling on my phone when a weird live stream caught my eye. The streamer's ID was "ChickenLittle_WhoDiesToday." When I clicked in, there were already fifty or sixty thousand people watching. [Chicken is finally live again! I've been waiting forever. My life is so boring without your streams!] [Gifts for Lord Chicken! I wonder which unlucky bastard he's targeted today!] [Got my snacks, lying in bed, ready for the show!] I knew this guy. He was a serial killer who had recently gone viral. It was the apocalypse; with no new movies or TV shows, live streams had become the main form of entertainment. But people were bored with the usual content. So, a wave of streams featuring murder, looting, and gang fights emerged. And this "Chicken Little" was the most successful of them all. He managed to evade the police every time, and no one could even trace his IP. As usual, Chicken appeared on camera wearing a mask. "First, a preview of today's victim: female, 31 years old, located in the suburban villa district. If you fit this description, you'd better hide. If I find you..." A high-pitched, maniacal laugh pierced through my speakers. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin. Just as I was about to turn off my phone and sleep, I received a text message. [You saw it, didn't you? You're today's victim. In thirty minutes, you'll be a ghost under Chicken's knife. If you don't want to die, listen to me.] My drowsiness vanished instantly. Chicken had played this game before—telling the victim he was coming for them, enjoying the cat-and-mouse chase. I hurriedly clicked back into the live stream to check. Chicken had already arrived at the entrance of a residential area. The words "Morning Glory Estates" appeared on the screen. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. That wasn't my neighborhood; I was still a thirty-minute drive away. [Are you crazy? Don't play such boring jokes!] I angrily typed out a reply. Thanks to this prank, I was wide awake, so I decided to keep watching the stream. But just as I lay back down, a familiar electronic voice drifted up from downstairs. "Face ID failed." 2 My feet turned to ice. I sprinted to the security door at the top of the stairs and locked it. Theft was rampant these days, so I had installed a separate security door for the second floor just to be safe. The person downstairs was still trying. "Face ID failed." I tried to calm myself. That lock would automatically freeze after three failed attempts. No one could open it. But the next second... "Unlock successful." How?! Did he know my passcode?! I gripped my phone, terrified to make a sound. It buzzed again. [Now do you believe me?] But... in the live stream, Chicken was still at the gate of Morning Glory Estates. Other viewers were asking the same question. [Chicken's stream looks like a recording!] [I get it! He's tricking the victim into thinking he's at Morning Glory, but he's actually somewhere else!] [I live in Morning Glory, I almost jumped out the window just now.] [So exciting! When will Chicken show us the victim?] Faint footsteps echoed from downstairs. It really was me. Today's unlucky bastard was me. The second-floor security door could buy me some time. I had sealed the windows ages ago, so jumping wasn't an option. I lived in the suburbs; even if the police came, it would take over an hour. I had to survive this hour on my own. I called the police first, then rushed to my bedroom and put on my Bluetooth headset. I didn't know when Chicken would start streaming from inside my house, but hearing it was better than being in the dark. After doing all this, I texted the mysterious person back. [Believe what? Stop spouting nonsense!] For all I knew, this person could be Chicken himself, toying with me. I couldn't trust him. Soon, another message came through. I froze in terror. It was a screenshot of a news article dated June 5, 2025. Today was only June 2. The headline read: [Viral Serial Killer "Chicken Little" Finally Arrested: Confessed to 7 Murders, Caught Alive at Final Crime Scene] The photo was of my living room. And there was another photo—of me, lying in a pool of blood. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Should I trust him? 3 Chicken's voice came through my headset. "I'm inside the victim's house. Let me give you a tour." The camera angle shifted, focusing on my family portrait. It really was my house! "Look at how luxurious her life is." He panned the camera to my kitchen fridge and pantry. [What the hell! She has fresh pork! Kill her, Chicken!] [Is that Vitamin Water?! Chicken, I want that!] [Look at all those meds! Do it, Chicken! I need those! I'll pay high prices!] Part of Chicken's popularity came from his Robin Hood persona—he claimed to rob the rich to help the poor. He auctioned off the victims' belongings to his viewers, earning money from both donations and sales. "Don't rush, everyone. Maybe the victim is watching my stream right now." He looked up toward the second floor and shouted. "My little sweetie, I'll give you ten minutes to hide. After ten minutes, I'm coming for you." He wore a black hoodie and a mask, his eyes staring straight at me through the screen. Seeing his determined look, I thought about the news article again. Why was I killed? And how was Chicken caught? Why was he caught after I died? Another text message. [Calm down and listen. Chicken has the key to your second floor, so that door won't stop him. You have ten minutes to hide. [The master bedroom only has a wardrobe and a vanity, and the bed frame is solid. There's nowhere to hide, so I don't recommend it. [I remember the bed in the guest room is hollow. You should hide inside the bed base.] [Who are you?] I asked, fighting back fear. He knew I would be killed, and he knew the layout of my house perfectly. I switched back to Chicken's stream. He was leisurely pouring himself a glass of red wine in the kitchen. My expensive wine! I hadn't even opened it yet, and he was wasting it. [I'm your boyfriend.] Boyfriend? I almost laughed. I've been single for 30 years. 4 [Don't misunderstand. I'm your boyfriend in a parallel universe. Our timeline is a week ahead of yours. My girlfriend—you—was killed by Chicken. I contacted you by accident. I just want you to live, for her sake.] Parallel universe? That sounded ridiculous. [By the way, I'm a cop, so I know all the details of the case. You must be wondering why you died but Chicken got caught. [In my timeline, you didn't hide. You fought Chicken head-on. You injured him severely, but he killed you. Because of his injuries, he couldn't escape.] That sounded like something I would do. In this dog-eat-dog world, a single woman like me couldn't survive without being tough. "Five minutes left. You better be hiding well." Even though I didn't fully trust this guy, he was right about the layout. My master bedroom had zero hiding spots. The guest room not only had a hollow bed base, but I had also hidden a knife in there. "Two minutes left. I wonder if my little sweetie is ready." Chicken finished the wine and spoke again. [Chicken looked so cool drinking that wine! But why does he keep calling her 'little sweetie'?] [Yeah! Maybe he likes her looks, that's why he's giving her a chance to hide.] [OMG, is Chicken going to livestream... you know... spicy stuff? So exciting.] I cursed under my breath. These netizens were just here for the show. They didn't care about human life at all! I retrieved the knife from the guest room and carefully lifted the mattress. After hiding, I dimmed my phone screen to the lowest setting. [Are you hidden?] the stranger asked again. [Yes.] After typing that, I scrutinized the news screenshot again. The photo... something felt off. Footsteps were getting closer. Strangely, he didn't go to the master bedroom first. He walked straight toward the guest room. Wouldn't a normal person check the master bedroom first?! Unless... I clamped my hand over my mouth, terrified to make a sound. Creak. The guest room door opened. Black boots appeared in my line of sight through the crack in the bed base. I was sweating profusely. "Let's see what today's little sweetie looks like." He squatted down and slowly reached for the mattress.
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