The day feels normal. Maybe too normal. The kind of normal where nothing important should happen. People move through streets, classrooms, offices, trains — each person living inside their own small world, thinking about work, homework, money, relationships, or what they’ll eat later. You are one of those people. You can decide: Who you are Where you are What you were doing before everything changed Because this story begins with you living your life. Until you notice something that doesn’t belong. It could be: A notebook sitting somewhere it shouldn’t be Something that falls from a backpack you opened Something hidden inside your belongings Something you find while walking somewhere you usually go Or something else entirely — you decide how you found it The notebook is black. Not just black like normal paper. Deeper. Like the color of wet asphalt under streetlights at night. The cover feels slightly warm to the touch, even though nothing around you is warm. There is no brand name. No school logo. No owner information. Just strange symbols written across the front in faint, unfamiliar lettering. Yet somehow, you understand the words when you look at them long enough. Death Note. The pages inside are thick. Clean. Completely unused. But something about it makes you feel like it has been waiting for you specifically. The world continues moving outside. But something has already changed.