"Mmphh.."
Karina blinks a few times, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness. The room is quiet except for the steady hum of the fan.
She sits up and glances around, noticing that this room contains only grand walls and a single doorway. She tries to speak, but her voice is raspy and her throat is parched.
She rubs her temples, trying to ease the throbbing in her head. The fan whirs steadily, its rhythmic sound echoing through the empty space. She tries to stand, but her legs are still weak.
Something's not right—why am I here alone? Where are my friends?
Despite the silence, a strange tension fills the air.
Thoughts race through her mind, and the unanswered questions strikes at her. She knows this game won't be easy. Her head is starting to spin, so she lies back down, waiting for her dizziness to pass.
11:05 PM. So much time has passed... and if I keep lying here, I'll only feel worse.
She takes a deep breath and pushes herself up again, ignoring the way the room tilts around her. Her weak, trembling legs carry her to the door, and her fingers wrap around the doorknob.
It doesn't turn.
She tugs, then shoves—nothing. The lock doesn't open.
I'm trapped.
"Hello?"
Her voice bounces off the walls, unanswered.
She pounds on the door. "Hey! Is anyone there? Let me out!"
Silence.
She presses her ear against the door, listening, but the only sound she could hear is the relentless whir of the fan.
"Damn it."
Frustration tightens her chest.
She steps back, scanning the room.
There has to be a way out.
But the room offers nothing useful.
Just a chair, a table, and that infuriating fan. She kicks the edge of the bed, jolting up her leg.
Ouch!
....
...
At least the anger feels better than fear...
With a slow, deep breath, she forces herself to focus, running her hands over the furniture, searching for seams, hidden compartments, anything. Anything.
"Nothing out of ordinary..."
Just as she is about to give up, her gaze catches on a small, unremarkable brown envelope wedged between two books on the table.
"How did I miss that?" She lets out a frustrated sigh.
Her fingers peel it open, revealing a single card inside.
A silver card? What's this for?
It's elegant, expensive-looking, with a shimmering border and intricate designs.
Frustrated but intrigued, she sits up on the chair and examines the card more thoroughly.
"Garden of Lair and... Bonus Card?" She murmurs, flipping it over. The back is blank, no clues, no instructions.
"Nothing?"
Her grip tightens.
So it's just a literal silver card?
A bitter laugh escapes her.
Who the hell would believe that?
Fueled by dwindling adrenaline, she searches the room again—fingertips brushing walls, flipping the mattress, even checking beneath the furniture. Still nothing. No hidden mechanisms, no cryptic symbols. Just the same oppressive emptiness.
With a grunt, she throw the card onto the bedsheets and lay down, her gaze is fix on the spinning blades of the ceiling fan. The words burn in her mind:
Garden of Lair and... Bonus Card?
"If you're meant to unlock something..."
....
...
A shadow?
Then—a flicker.
Her focus snaps to the ceiling fan. Between the rotating blades, something winks back at her—a fleeting shimmer visible only when the light hits just right.
Curiosity takes over.
She launches off the bed, turns off the fan, and drags the chair beneath it. Standing on trembling legs, she plucks the object free, her nails scraping against old tape. She sits on the table and open the object. A slender, paper-wrapped box, not longer than a pencil case.
Her throat tightens.
Should I open it?
The silence screams yes.
Hands shaking, she peels back the wrapping, revealing a dark wooden box. Its surface etched with swirling patterns.
She presses the box against her ear and listens carefully. Hearing only silence, she gives it a shake just to be safe. There is no rattle.
Not a bomb. Probably?
She pries it open—a sleek black pen—lightweight, coldly smooth.
She lifts it, rotating it slowly. At first glance, utterly ordinary—just a silver pen, a subtle switch on the side, and a tiny bulb at the tip.
Wait.
Her pulse spikes.
Have I seen this before?
Then—recognition. A grin curls her lips.
She turns off the main light, plunging the room into darkness.
Clicking the pen's switch, a light hums to life, casting an eerie violet glow. She sweeps it over the card's front first—nothing. Then the back.
A slow pass... and letters ignite to life, glowing toxic green-blue like bioluminescent venom.
Bullseye!
"Act fast, or be left behind. Gather the eight fractured halos before their light blinds. Beware the hollow, whose smiles crack, those poor souls that stained black. Outlast the dark, hold your mind, the refuge you find is not kind."
Her hands tremble so hard the card slips.
"Oh god." Her whisper fractures in the dark.
This isn't some simple escape room or puzzle quest—it's survival of the fittest.
The consequences of this game are certainly unexpected. It's different from what they have tried before. With every wrong move, there's a threat of death. Every decision matters, and every step could be the last.
As Karina processes the information she has learned, a voice brings her back to reality.
"Good evening, players~. Please gather at the reception hall. There will be people waiting to escort and guide you. Once again, good evening, and may you enjoy the game~."
The voice is high-pitched and childlike, dripping with faux cheer.
After the announcement, a knock echoes at her door.
She quickly grabs the silver card and the pen, shoving them into her zippered pocket.
When she opens the door, a tall man stands there, his presence unsettling—far colder than the men who herded them from the parking lot earlier.
He's dressed sharply in a black fitted suit, an Akubra hat shadowing his face.
"Is this another one of those men in black?" Karina wonders and says in a low voice. "Except instead of sunglasses, he's hiding behind a hat?"
His expression is blank, a mask of professionalism that only deepens her suspicion.
What awaits us on the reception hall?
No words are exchanged. The man scans her from head to toe, his gaze scrutinizing, almost judging. When his eyes meet hers, his lips twist into a frown—disgust, or something darker.
What's that look for? Do I look disgusting? Girl, the audacity.
Without a word, the man turns and strides down the hallway.
Karina lingers in the doorway, staring at the man's retreating back.
Abruptly, he whirls around, his frown deepening.
"Follow me."
Then he pivots and marches ahead, leaving Karina dumbfounded.
"Wow, what a kind person" she murmurs sarcastically.
Karina didn't protest and just follows the man quietly. As they walk, she can't help but admire the opulent design of the place.
The walls are gilded in golden-yellow accents, the floors gleam with polished marble, and crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls. It reeks of extravagance—a stark reminder of how vast the gap is between the wealthy and poor people.
"I bet many clueless people have joined here," She thinks. "Just how rich is the person who created this game? It must've cost a fortune. Well, not my money, not my problem." She shrugs off the thought and continues scanning the hallway.
Lost in observation, she didn't realize that they've already reach the hallway's end until her guide stops. The man pauses, his expression unreadable.
"Am I supposed to go there?" Karina asks, pointing toward the crowded reception area.
He meets her gaze, his silence is heavy before turning away without a word.
"Wow. Nice attitude." She mutters under her breath.
Karina ventures deeper into the hall, her eyes darting from face to face, desperate to see a familiar face. The air hums with tension—whispers of fear, forced laughter, and the quiet calculations of strangers weighing each other up.
Come on, be here. Please be here....
The room buzzes with fragmented conversations. Some players wear confusion like a mask. Others lean against walls, boasting loudly as if this is some high-society ball rather than a game.
Then—a break in the crowd. Near the window, a lanky figure with tousled brown hair stands adrift, scanning the room like a lost traveler. Karina recognizes that slouch anywhere. A laugh escapes her.
She pushes through the throng, her pulse racing. "Benjamin!"
He turns, and the relief in his eyes mirrors hers.
Benjamin skids to a stop in front of Karina, arms flung wide like a stage actor mid-soliloquy. "Girl, where have you been?!" His voice booms, ricocheting off the walls.
Karina opens her mouth—but before she can speak, his expression twists. A slow, unnerving grin spreads across his face. "This is the thrill I've been looking for!" he whispers, voice dripping with something between delight and delirium.
She blinks. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Without thinking, her hand flies out, smacking the back of her friends head.
"OW! Rude!" Benjamin clutches his head, but the light spark in his eyes doesn't fade. He leans in, his voice threatening. "Hit me again. I dare you."
Karina rolls her shoulders back. "Gladly. Let's see who walks away."
A shrill, staticky voice crackles through the air, cutting them off—like a deranged game-show host trapped in the walls.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Place your bets! Will it be the hothead with the lethal right hook—or the queen of comebacks, who fights dirty? Ding ding ding!"
Benjamin elbows Karina, stage-whispering, "Pretty sure she's on my side."
"Only because your punches feel like confetti," Karina fires back.
He gasps, clutching his chest—but Karina's already darting past him, slinging an arm around Brittany's neck in a playful headlock. Brittany wheezes, tapping Karina's forearm in surrender, but Karina just laughs, tightening her grip.
Then—a flicker of movement.
Karina's head looks to her side. Jeremiah stands in the shadows, arms crossed, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. For a split second, his eyes lock onto hers.
"You should've seen your face," he grins, mischief glinting in his gaze. He walks towards them and Brittany leans in, whispering something that sends him into another fit of laughter.
Karina raises an eyebrow.
Hmm... suspicious.
Before she can retort, Jeremiah claps his hands. "Alright, let's find Sybiel. We're almost complete."
Benjamin bounces over, eyes sparkling like a kid who just discovered sugar. "Let's make a bet on where we'll find her!"
Karina doesn't miss a second. "Food station!" She grins, already feeling victorious.
Benjamin's face crumples in mock betrayal. "You stole my guess!"
Brittany and Jeremiah burst out laughing. "You should always bet on the food station when it comes to her!" Brittany wheezes.
Jeremiah shakes his head. "Sybiel's a creature of habit. Too predictable."
Karina smirks. Game over.
And, of course, she's right. They find Sybiel exactly where they predicted—planted at the food station, blissfully devouring a plate piled high with food and snacks, her expression's pure euphoria.
Brittany and Jeremiah exchange glances. "Looks like someone's in heaven," They say in unison, grinning.
Jeremiah creeps up behind Sybiel, then grabs her shoulder without warning.
"WHA—?!" She flinch, nearly choking on a bite, before whirling around. Her glare melts into recognition. "Oh. It's just you guys."
"Pay up, Ben. 500 pesos, I am right." Karina holds out her hand, eyebrow raised in triumph.
Benjamin scowls. "Tsk, after the game. I don't carry cash like some old-school gambler." He turns to Sybiel, who's still devouring chocolate-drenched marshmallows. "Why are you here? You were supposed to be by the window—or the corridor—or literally anywhere but not the food station! I lost because of you!"
Sybiel licks the melted chocolate off her fingers. "What was the bet this time?"
"If we found you at the food station, I win. If not, Ben wins." Karina grins. "Shocking twist, you were exactly where we thought"
The group erupts in laughter—even Benjamin cracks, shaking his head at his own dramatics. Then—A scream slices through the noise.
"Stop! Please! Someone help me!"
The laughter dies instantly. Karina's head whips toward the sound.
"How pitiful," Sybiel murmurs.
Pitiful?
A hulking man looms over a cowering woman, his big hand locked around her wrist. The crowd murmurs, eyes darting away like scared birds—more interested in gossip than helping.
The man smirks. "No one here cares, sweetheart." He yanks her toward a darkened hallway. "Let me help you instead—"
Karina didn't hesitate. Her foot crushes the back of the man's knee—bone grinds against tendon—and he stumbles. The woman escape the grip.
Warm satisfaction floods Karina's veins.
"T-thank you..." The woman whimpers.
Before Karina can respond, Jeremiah is already there—shoulders squared, voice a blade. "Touch her again, and you'll lose a hand."
Benjamin and Brittany flank him, forming a human barricade between the woman and her attacker. The crowd finally stirs—gasps slicing through the murmurs like knives.
The man snarls, clutching his leg—but his eyes lock onto Karina's.
Not fear.
Madness.
A grin splits his face, too wide, too eager.
Karina's muscles twitch.
She immediately wraps her arms around the man's neck as he kneels. With a grunt, she yanks his legs upward, bending him backward in a brutal camel clutch. He groans, his face turning into purple as he struggles to breath and break free from her grip.
"Didn't you know the word LET GO?" She spits the words into his ear. "Or did she need to beg louder for you to understand?"
Benjamin steps forward, wrinkling his nose. "Ew. Your skin's like a crocodile's ass..." He crouches and peers into the man's flushed face with a look of disgust, "...ever heard of soap?"
The big guy, now clearly furious, tries to push himself up, but Karina maintain her grip firmly.
The man thrashes, veins bulging. "YOU LITTLE BITCH! I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!"
The crowd surges closer, whispers exploding into shouts.
Karina tightens her grip.
"I've got that woman first! You're just teenagers who likes to act as heroes! But all you can do are bark, no bite!.....You don't know what you've got into.... and if you let me go... I'll think about protecting all of you." The man smiles wickedly.
"You? A protector?" She scoffs. "Please. The only people who'd touch you are paid to pretend."
"YOU BITC—"
CRACK.
Sybiel's boots hit his jaw. Teeth clack. Blood sprays.
Before he can scream, her second kick silences him—a vicious arc to his temple. His eyes roll back, his body drops like a sack of bricks.
The crowd erupts. Some cheer. Others recoil.
Sybiel stares down—bored, as if the man sprawled on the ground is nothing more than a nuisance —an insect.
Karina freezes. This isn't the Sybiel she knows. Her friend—the one who lived for snacks and dumb jokes—just broke a man's face without blinking.
Benjamin lets out a low whistle. "That's one way to shut someone up."
---