Deadheading — it's the process of cutting off a dying flower's head.
Not to kill it. But to push it further.
So it grows back stronger. Prettier. More… efficient.
But I've always wondered — what happens if you apply the same logic to a person?
Not literally.
I mean, crushing their spirit. An ego death.
Severing comfort. Stripping away stability.
Forcing someone to confront everything they've buried under distractions and routine—
their fears, their regrets, their trauma.
What would bloom from that kind of pressure?
Would they break?
Or would something stronger, something truer, grow in their place?
…Perhaps only a few ever do.
You cut off a flower's head so a new one can bloom.
And you must destroy an ego before a new one can be born.
Most people would say "destroy" sounds too harsh — and it is.
But if it's not completely broken, it doesn't grow back. It just regenerates into the same shape. The same flaws.
And that's what I've come to realize.
This place…
This is a garden.
And we're the flowers.
***
I woke up to an assortment of voices—some panicked, others muttering in unfamiliar languages.
My body felt like it had just run a marathon, every muscle heavy and reluctant to move. My vision was blurry at first, but as it sharpened, I realized everyone around me looked just as disoriented.
Bright lights stung my eyes. We were in what looked like a giant underground bunker. Concrete floors. Concrete ceiling. Concrete walls. The only thing that stood out were four black lines on the ground, dividing the space into quadrants. Maybe a hundred people, grouped by those lines—four sectors.
I stood, noticing I wasn't wearing the same clothes I fell asleep in. Now, I wore a uniform: a charcoal-grey blazer over a white dress shirt, black pants, and black dress shoes. A dark maroon tie hung neatly from my collar, and on the left chest, a Velcro patch—blank.
The girls wore the same blazer, but with skirts and bows instead of ties.
Some people were crying. Others paced or whispered, trying to piece together how they ended up here. I moved toward the line dividing my section from the next, instinctively curious… but my body hesitated. Not out of fear—more like something primal told me not to.
I note that the people around me seem to be around the same age as me, 15.
I reached into my pocket. For a second, I thought I'd found my phone, but it wasn't mine. It wouldn't even turn on.
On my wrist, hidden beneath my sleeve, was a watch—digital. It lit up and displayed the date and time when I tapped it
5:00 AM, JAN 1ST, Friday, 2016
but didn't seem to do anything else.
Before I could process it all, a loud mechanical sound echoed from the far end of the room. A concrete platform rose from the floor.
A microphone slid into place.
And then… a woman.
"Good morning, everyone!" she said in a sing-song voice. "Hope you're not too scared! Hehe… wait, what was I supposed to say? Oh! Right. Welcome!"
Her tone was light, almost cartoonish. Too light.
"You've all been hand-selected for Project True Bloom! Let's skip the boring chit-chat and get right to it. You've each been placed in one of four groups. With your group, you'll participate in super fun, light-hearted games!"
Murmurs spread. Some people looked somewhat relieved. Others tensed.
The way she speaks it's as if she's done it before, she's makes the tense situation seem like something that happens everyday her mood slightly lightens everyone else's.
"These games are sponsored by your governments to help us gather data, oh and don't worry your parents have all agreed" she added with a wink. "Whichever group wins gets one wish. That's right—one wish per person, almost anything you want! Entry into any college in the world? Sure! A lifetime of wealth? Absolutely! Just don't wish for, like… immortality. We're still working out the bugs on that one." She stuck out her tongue
She grinned. Didn't blink.
"Now, don't worry. You can opt out. If you don't want to participate, raise your hand and we'll escort you out. Your group will be penalized of course, but hey—that's their problem, right?"
I scanned the room. No one moved at first. But slowly, a few hesitant hands rose—maybe five. I expected more. But maybe, like me, no one trusted her.
"You've got twenty minutes to convince your teammates to stay," she chirped. "Tick-tock!"
The room stirred. People broke off to talk. I stayed put.
I studied the woman on stage. Something about her felt off. She hadn't blinked once. Her movements were too big, too cheerful, like a kid pretending to be an adult.
She wore a blue blouse, a black tie, and a straight, black skirt. Her smile never faltered, even as her eyes scanned us like insects under glass.
I looked away.
After twenty minutes, she clapped her hands together.
"Alright! Hands up if you still want to leave."
Just one hand remained.
A boy, trembling.
Two tall men in black suits appeared from the wall—literally. A section of it slid open as they escorted him through it. No one said a word.
"Sooo… now that we've handled that…" she smiled wide. "Let's begin!"
She clapped again.
The concrete wall beside us began to glow, then turned transparent.
Gasps echoed through the room.
On the other side of the glass was a city—clean, compact, gleaming under a sky too blue to be real.
"Ahhh. Natural light," the woman said, shielding her eyes with a dramatic pose.
"It's time for your first game!"
My pocket vibrated violently. I pulled out the fake phone. A message lit up the screen:
[Tier 0, Sunflower: The Coin Toss]
"First, let's go over the rules of The Coin Toss," the woman began, her tone shifting to something slightly more serious.
"Coins have been transferred to some of your accounts. You'll be able to see your coin balance using your watch," she continued, brushing her skirt as if it had any dust on it.
"Some of you were given one coin, some two, some three… and some of you got zero," she said, counting off with her fingers. "You are not allowed to show another player your coin balance in any way — whether that's on purpose, by accident, or through force. That goes both ways, of course."
"You can, however, transfer coins to other players using your watch. But be careful… they might be lying to you~" she added in a smug tone, clearly enjoying the tension she was creating.
"But of course, you don't have to share. You can keep your coins to yourself. Just remember…" she leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into a mock whisper, "what will your classmates think of you? And if you started with zero coins, what if you can't afford to eat later on? That would be… tragic~"
She clapped her hands together. "Mmm, that sounds a bit unfair, doesn't it? In favor of the ones who got coins. So! To balance things out, we'll be introducing an additional rule: The Liar System."
"If you ask someone how many coins they have and think they're lying, you can call them out. If you're right, you get all of their coins. If you're wrong, well… you'll lose money equal to the number of coins they actually had. Painful, right?"
She smiled.
"Each of these coins can be exchanged for 1,000 Clades, which is equivalent to 1,000 U.S. dollars. So if you have, say, three coins — that's 3,000 Clades, baby!" she said with dramatic flair.
"That's right! Real money. Real power. You can use it right away in the city — shopping, dining, or whatever your little hearts desire."
Then her tone snapped back into cheerful absurdity. "Aaaand because we're so very generous here at Project Bloom, each of you will be assigned your very own private apartment! Isn't that cute? You can decorate it, cry in it, hide your snacks — whatever you like!" She seemed genuinely excited about this part.
"The game begins in five minutes. Take that time to go over the rules."
As if on cue, a notification popped up on our phones.
[The Coin Toss]
I tapped on it, and it led to a full list of rules. Everyone else around me seemed to be doing the same.
[GAME OVERSEER: MS. CHACHA
COIN DISTRIBUTION:
– Each participant has been randomly given between 0 and 3 gold coins
– A total of 30 coins have been distributed
– Your coin balance can be viewed privately on your watch (Watches have built-in screen privacy protection)
COIN PRIVACY:
– You may NOT show your coin balance to another participant
This includes:
– Forcing someone to show their watch
– Displaying your own watch, even accidentally
– Trying to sneak a look at someone else's screen
COIN TRANSFER:
– You may transfer coins to another participant using your watch
– Transfers are instant and cannot be undone– Once a coin is sent, it cannot be reclaimed
THE LIAR SYSTEM:
– If you believe someone is lying about their coin count:
– Say "LIAR" out loud (your watch will pick it up)
– Tap your watch to theirs
– If they lied: you receive all their coins
– If they told the truth: you lose Clades equal to their coin count (up to 3,000 Clades)
– If you have no money, you will go into debt
– You may only accuse ONE person per game
FORBIDDEN ACTIONS:
– No violence
– Do not leave your assigned section
– Do not tamper with or attempt to hack your watch
Violations may result in Clade penalties, loss of division merits, or removal from Project Bloom
GAME LENGTH:
– 45 minutes total– No extensions– Finishing early may increase rewards
END CONDITION & REWARDS
– CLASSIFIED –Details will be revealed once the game ends]
After reviewing the rules the lady on the stage—Ms. Chacha, clicked a button on her own watch and a buzzer sounded.
"Starrrttt!" she said enthusiastically
My watch buzzed.
I tapped the screen, revealing a new app labeled Coin Bag, the icon a golden coin. When I opened it, a simple screen popped up:
[Balance: 2]
Below that, an option: [Transfer]
As soon as the game began, everyone froze—tense, uncertain, as if waiting for someone else to make the first move. I thought about speaking, but stopped when a girl stepped forward.
She walked confidently to the center of our section. Her movements were calm, composed—like she'd already made up her mind. People turned to her instinctively. She looked like she had something to say.
She had long black hair pulled into a clean low bun, with curtain bangs framing her face. Tidy. Efficient. Her voice, when she spoke, was as composed as her appearance—measured, even, and clear.
"The game is designed to turn us against each other early on. The best way to avoid that is to transfer the coins equally. We need to build trust if we want to work together going forward."
That was the first time I saw her clearly:
Mixed American and Japanese, if I had to guess.
About 5'5"—average height, average build, maybe slightly curvy. Her whole presence screamed discipline. Strategic. Cold but not unkind.
Another girl raised a hand to speak.
"That doesn't eliminate the risk of betrayal. Wouldn't it be safer to leave the coins as they are? That way, there's no reason to suspect anyone."
She had a point.
This whole setup was a double-edged sword.
The liar system was useful… but only in a few cases. Either you caught someone in a group deduction, or you had enough insight to tell when someone was lying to your face.
A boy chimed in from the back.
"That's easy for someone with coins to say. Didn't Ms. Chacha warn us that we'd need them just to eat?"
The original speaker held her ground.
"If we can't trust each other with something this small, then how will we ever trust each other later? Even if there's risk… we should take it."
She paused for breath.
"This is the first game. It's simple now—but it won't stay that way. If we're going to win this whole thing, we need to start acting fast and thinking smart. And for that, we need a leader."
She looked around.
"My name is Meadow Lockwood. I nominate myself to lead—at least for now. I'll prove I'm worthy with this game. If anyone objects, I'm all ears."
Whispers rippled through the group.
No one stepped forward.
If you spoke out, it'd be the same as saying you had a better idea or that you wanted to be leader.
And if you didn't speak now… it meant you accepted her.
She continued.
"We'll distribute the coins evenly—one per person. There are thirty of us, and thirty coins. When the trading period ends, if someone still has zero, we'll use process of elimination to find out who didn't participate. Simple. No one has to reveal their coin count. Just do your part."
A solid plan. Especially with so little time to prepare.
Still, it wasn't perfect.
The flaw was obvious:
We can't verify how many coins someone started with.
If someone got three coins, gave away one, and claimed they were only given two… what then?
Worse, if two people lied and backed each other up, any trail would vanish.
Sure, maybe we'd figure it out eventually… but would we have the time? Or the mental bandwidth? Probably not. Especially not when everyone's trying to stay innocent.
That said—this early in the game, I doubted anyone would betray. There's no strong motive yet. It'd be reckless, self-sabotaging. And it's unlikely someone already built enough trust to collaborate in secret.
So, all things considered…
Meadow's plan was the best we had.
I could tell a few people were still hesitant about giving up their coins. But they'd follow along—her logic was sound, and she said it like someone used to being right.
She gave the signal to begin.
Since I had two coins, I needed to find someone with none.
As I scanned the group, I saw a girl standing alone. She kept tugging at her sleeve—nervous. Hesitant. I guessed she didn't have a coin. Asking for one must feel harder than giving one away.
She had shoulder-length black hair, slightly flipped at the ends, with curtain bangs. Average height—at least, for someone of Japanese descent.
"Excuse me," I said.
She flinched. She hadn't noticed me walk up.
"Hello…" Her voice was quiet, unsure.
"How many coins do you have?" I asked.
"I… I don't have any," she admitted, like it was her fault.
"Perfect. I've got two."
I tapped my watch. Selected Transfer. Used the slider to send one coin. Then lightly tapped her watch with mine to confirm.
She peeked at her screen.
"Th-thank you!" Her voice was a little louder now. Still soft.
"No problem."
"I'm Amari. What's your name?"
"I'm M—no, I'm Kana Mori."
She almost introduced herself with her last name first. Probably habit.
In Asia, surnames usually come first—but we're all speaking English now, so she stopped herself.
Kana Mori, then.
Or just Kana?
I wasn't sure what to call her—
And honestly, I didn't care enough to ask.
Since I'd done my part, I had nothing to do but wait. Might as well watch the other groups.
Kana trailed behind me. I guess she didn't know what else to do.
The group to the right was a mess. I remembered they were the ones who'd lost a player earlier. It looked like they'd tried to split the coins but got into an argument over who got the extra. Typical.
The group diagonal from us had a cleaner system—someone was clearly leading, and they'd formed two single-file lines. I could probably figure out the logic with a bit of effort… but I didn't feel like it.
The group directly above us seemed similar to ours—relying on trust, moving fast. They looked close to finishing.
Meadow called us back.
As we gathered, I noticed the group vertical to us had already wrapped up.
"Raise your hand if you have zero coins," she said.
One hand went up.
I looked at Meadow.
Others did, too.
But I doubt they saw what I did.
Her eyebrow twitched—just for a split second.
A small, involuntary movement the body makes under sudden stress.
Looking at her, I could tell:
She had a very bad feeling in her gut.