Time was slipping away quickly, as if it were racing my trembling breaths. Every second seemed to fall through my fingers like grains of sand in a storm, impossible to grasp or retrieve. The three minutes the doll had granted us were nearly over. Perhaps only a sliver remained.
I stood in the darkness, feeling my mind unraveling slowly. Every idea that crossed my thoughts was instantly dismissed—either because it was impossible, or because it carried a risk too heavy to bear. There was no time for logic, no space to gamble on luck.
I had no other option but the game Cairo had suggested... The game of silence.
It seemed simple, but I knew deep down that simplicity could be deceiving—especially when dealing with a doll that could change the rules however it pleased.
I wanted to scream, to shout "No!" out loud, but a faint voice of reason whispered within me:
(And what's the alternative?)
There wasn't one.
I whispered to Cairo, my hesitation obvious, but with a tone that at least tried to sound determined:
"O-Okay... I don't think we have any other choice... Let's choose the game of silence... Do you agree?"
He took a while to respond.
His silence wasn't just a moment of thought... it was weight. As if time had paused, suspended on a single word.
Finally, his voice came out weakly, as if it had been pulled from his chest with great effort:
"Y-Yes... I agree."
A fleeting sense of relief washed over me... but it didn't last.
Suddenly, a strange sound pierced the darkness—sharp and jarring, like a broken bell ringing in a graveyard:
"Ting... ting..."
I froze.
The doll.
Its voice was like a broken music box, its tune distorted but stubbornly playing on. It sounded cheerful, childlike, falsely innocent—like a little girl playing hide-and-seek, but with a dagger in her hand.
"Time is up... hahaha! I hope you picked a fun game!"
She laughed.
An innocent laugh... from a mouth that knew no innocence, from a mind that fed on fear.
I swallowed hard, feeling a coldness creeping from my spine to my feet.
Then her voice came again, this time clearer, as if she had moved closer to us... though we still couldn't see her:
"So... what game did you choose?"
Everything paused for a moment.
Even the air felt heavy.
I looked toward Cairo's direction. I didn't know if he was looking back—the darkness was merciless—but I could feel his breath, his trembling.
We were on the edge now... whether toward survival or a pit with no end.
---
I swallowed slowly, the words catching in my throat as if afraid to come out. My heart pounded violently, crashing against my ribs. Despite trying to hold myself together, my voice came out shaky, carrying the tremor of fear I had failed to hide:
"W-We decided to choose the game of silence."
A short silence followed, then the doll's voice returned, brimming with strange childlike excitement, but also a hint of unexpected curiosity:
"The game of silence? Hmm...And what is that about?"
Her reaction surprised me. She wasn't angry. She wasn't rejecting the idea... she seemed curious, as though hearing of the game for the first time, or perhaps waiting to hear more with hidden intent.
I hesitated briefly, then took a deep breath, trying to sound more confident—though my heart was fluttering in my chest like a terrified bird:
"T-The game is about... the three of us... staying completely silent for five whole minutes. No talking, no moving, no whispering, no making any sound. Whoever breaks the rules... loses."
I fell silent, waiting for her reaction, as if I had tossed a stone into a dark well and was waiting to hear the splash.
Then her voice came again, this time full of excitement, like a child discovering a new toy:
"Wow! That sounds fun!"
A bit of relief trickled into my chest. Maybe she liked it... maybe we had a chance to survive...
But that hope quickly began to fade when I heard her continue, more softly now, and with something hidden in her tone... something uneasy:
"But...do not you think it is a bit boring?"
My breath stopped.
She went on, her voice tinged with mischief:
"We are just...going to be quiet and not move...and only for five minutes?"
Sweat began to pour from my forehead like hot rain from inside me. Did she dislike the game?! Was she insulted we chose something so simple?! Or was it the simplicity itself that angered her?
Ughh...I couldn't help the thought. It felt like the ground was shaking beneath me, like every small decision could become a disaster.
But she didn't let me drown in my fear for long. Her voice cut through my thoughts:
"Hmm... do you mind if I tweak the game a little?"
Tweak the game?!
What did that mean?! What kind of change?! Would she make it harder? Add a secret rule we didn't know about? Lay a hidden trap waiting for us to fall?
I froze. The words stumbled in my chest, but I still answered, as if my tongue was working against my will:
"Y-Yes, o-of c-course... do as you like."
My voice faltered, my words collided, the syllables crumbled as I tried to sound natural—but failed utterly.
I realized too late that I had shown my fear clearly... there was no need for her to guess.
She laughed.
Her laugh pierced the darkness like an arrow—loud, strange, broken, a mix of exaggerated childish giggles and a madness that thrived on weakness:
"Hahaha! Heeheeheehee!"
She laughed for a long time... then said, in a tone that left no room for doubt:
"Ah...good choice."
She paused for a moment, then added in a soft, breezy voice that carried a knife in its folds:
"If you had refused...the game would have been boring..."
Then her voice dropped to a whisper—but it was still clear, as if it was being spoken right in front of my face:
"And if the game was boring... I would have punished you both...heeheehee..."
I froze again.
I thought about her "if you had refused" and considered the other possibility... that with a single word, I might have opened a door to a danger that could never be closed.
I looked into the darkness ahead and saw nothing but black... but I felt her gaze pierce through me, an invisible stare tracking every expression, every shiver, every move—even the ones I hadn't made yet.
Every part of my being was saying one thing:
We had already entered the game... and there was no turning back.
...
The doll laughed her usual laugh—a sound unlike any human's. It was like a twisted blend of a broken machine and an evil child loosed from nightmare stories. Her voice seemed to rise from all directions, making me imagine she was circling us in unseen loops.
Then, amidst the charged silence, her voice returned—cheerful on the surface, but with something dark lurking beneath:
"So... now that I am going to tweak the game a little..."
Time seemed to freeze in my ears, as if my mind was refusing what it had just heard.
She continued, dragging her words slowly, like someone savoring the act of tearing delicate paper:
"I have to... make it fun, right?"
I swallowed hard, my legs trembling on their own. "Fun"? That word, in our world, means comfort and laughter... but when a doll says it... what can I say... it means the opposite.
"First..."
She said, with a tone of anticipation in her voice:
"It will not last... five minutes."
She paused briefly, then added brightly:
"It will last a full hour."
It felt like the ground was pulled from beneath my feet.
An hour?!
The duration would be an hour?!
I couldn't help it—a confused whisper escaped me, like an unfinished thought:
"The game will last an hour... W-Wait, what?!"
But she didn't stop. It was as if she had read my shock and decided to crush any remaining hope:
"And the game of silence... would not be fun if we just stayed quiet. That would be boring, and I hate boredom."
She paused for a moment, then continued in a tone that was terrifying in its gentleness:
"So... after every ten minutes of silence, one person will be allowed to move... for one minute only."
I held my breath. My heart pounded in my head, and my arms felt like stone.
She continued:
"And during that minute...the person must try to make the other two laugh."
My head shot up, as if I had been slapped unexpectedly.
What?!
Make them laugh?!
And she continued mercilessly:
"If the person did not try to make them laugh...the person will lose."
The word "lose" in her voice wasn't innocent. It wasn't about losing a game. It sounded like a direct threat of an end... or a punishment... or something I dared not imagine.
My mind started spinning from all the new rules. I was trying to piece together the sentences, but every thought crashed into another and shattered:
Every ten minutes... one minute of movement...
And in that minute... I have to make them laugh?
And if I don't... I lose?
But... how will I know when the minute is up?
What if I mess up the timing? What if I move for a second too long? Laugh at the wrong time? Or fail to make them laugh?
How can I even make someone laugh... when I'm on the verge of collapsing from fear?
My mind was crowded with questions, like a storm of doubt:
Who would be the first to move?
Would it be random? Would the doll choose? Or... would she make us choose?
And if we did... would that be another trap?
And what if someone tried to make the others laugh and failed? Would that count as an "attempt"? Or would the doll decide... based on her mood?
I looked into the darkness, trying to see her features or any clue that might help me understand, but... nothing.
Only blackness... heavy breathing... and the fading echo of her last laugh, as if she was hiding again in the shadows, waiting for the real fun to begin.
Then silence returned... once more.
But this time, it wasn't ordinary silence.
It was a silence waiting for a decision.
A silence where the rules of the game crept in behind deceptive smiles.