时晴wokeuptothesoundofherphonebuzzingonhernightstand.Sheslowlyopenedhereyes,groggilytakinginhersurroundings.Shewaslyinginacomfortable-lookingbed,withsoft,whitesheetsandaplushduvetcoveringher.Theroomwasdecoratedinasleek,modernstyle,withlargewindowsthatletinplentyofnaturallight.
Asshesatupandlookedaround,shenoticedasmalltablebesidethebed,withalaptopopenonit.Amessageonthescreencaughthereye:“Welcomeback,timetraveler.Youhavebeenbroughthereforareason.“
Timetraveler?Whatdidthatevenmean?Sherubbedhertemples,tryingtorememberhowshehadgottenhere.Thelastthingsherememberedwasreadingaromancenovelinbed,andthen...this.
Shelookedaroundtheroomagain,takingintheunfamiliarsurroundings.Everythingseemedso...modern.Wherewasshe,exactly?
Suddenly,thelaptopscreenflickeredbacktolife,displayingamessage:“Youarecurrentlyinaworldwherethemainplotrevolvesaround‘runningwiththeball‘.Youwillneedtonavigatethroughkeyeventsthatcannotbeavoided.“
“Uh-huh,“shemutteredtoherself,tryingtomakesenseofitall.Whatdidthatevenmean?Shehadnoideawhat‘runningwiththeball‘referredto.
Justthen,therewasaknockatthedoo