The doll spoke in her usual voice—one that blended feigned innocence with an unsettling playfulness:
"Since I laughed... that means you have won this round."
Then she continued, in the same tone, though this time with a sharp undertone:
"And now... after five seconds, round two will begin."
A moment of silence passed… then as if Cairo's heart had jolted back to life, I heard him move quickly and sit on the ground immediately—before she even started counting.
Perhaps he understood that any delay, no matter how small, could be seen as breaking the rules.
And so… round two began.
The room returned to what it was before: total stillness, a heavy silence, and suffocating darkness that allowed no light to seep through. It felt as if the room had been cut off from time.
I sat without moving. No whisper, no extra breath, not even a blink.
Seconds passed… then minutes—or at least it felt like minutes, for time here was no longer measured by logic, but by anxiety.
Each minute felt like an hour, and each hour a new torment.
Fatigue slowly began gnawing at me. My back ached from sitting still, my knees trembled, and my eyes burned from relentless focus… but I endured.
There was no room for mistakes now.
I could hear Cairo's breathing beside me—slow, but clearly strained. From the rhythm of his inhale and exhale, I knew he was going through the same pain I was.
Which was expected. Sitting like this, in complete darkness, without moving, speaking, or even breathing too loudly—it would exhaust anyone.
Add to that the presence of the doll… her chilling stillness, her strict rules that could turn on us at any moment. Everything about her made us feel like we were walking a tightrope over an abyss.
As for her… I heard nothing. No breath, not even a rustle.
Maybe because she wasn't human. Expecting her to breathe like a living being was a delusion.
She was like a living statue. Her mere presence frightened me more than any spoken threat.
And as time dragged on, I began to feel my body going numb, and I feared I might collapse if this continued much longer.
Suddenly—within the heart of this stillness—came the sound:
"Tring... tring..."
It was the doll's voice.
That same metallic ring used at the start of round one… but this time, it sounded closer—sharper.
She fell silent for a brief moment, as if giving us a last second to catch our breath.
Then she spoke again, in her sharp, commanding tone:
"It is time for the second player... the one the bug landed on."
---
I took a slow breath, trying to keep myself steady, and began to think quickly:
Who was the second player the bug landed on?
I closed my eyes for a moment, replaying the past minutes in my mind.
I hadn't felt anything.
No sting, no shiver, not even the brush of a feather across my skin.
I was absolutely certain… no bug had touched me.
So…
Could it be Cairo again?!
The chances were slim, but in this doll's world, nothing could be ruled out.
Maybe another bug had landed on him… I didn't know.
My mind was drowning in questions while my body didn't dare move.
Then, amid the suffocating tension… her voice came again.
At first, calm, laced with mockery:
"How silly of me..."
My heart skipped a beat as I listened to her continue in a monotonous tone, like she was talking to herself:
"… why am l even asking, when I was the one the bug landed on?"
Another silence followed—but this one wasn't ordinary.
It was as if time froze, and reality flipped upside down.
What?!
The doll?!
The doll was the one the bug landed on?!
At first, I didn't know whether to be shocked… or laugh bitterly.
But then, my eyes widened despite the darkness around me.
This could only mean one thing…
The doll was now the one who had to make us laugh.
I couldn't believe it.
Was it really possible that this doll—this strange being who imposed terrifying rules on us—was now forced to try to make us laugh?
It was as if the wheel of the game had turned against its own maker.
A tiny spark of hope glimmered in my mind.
This… was a chance.
If neither of us—neither I nor Cairo—laughed, then the doll would be considered the loser of this round.
And if she lost… that would mean we'd win another round.
One more step toward survival.
Even better…
Even if we did laugh, it wouldn't be considered breaking the rules, because the doll hadn't placed any penalty on herself when she laughed in the first round.
She had simply ignored that detail—as if the rules didn't apply to her.
So, she had opened a small door for us… without realizing it might turn against her.
But even so… one point still worried me.
She was the only one allowed to speak during these moments—since she was the one announcing the time.
So now, if she spoke, we wouldn't know whether she was trying to make us laugh… or just giving instructions.
And that… was the danger.
Laughter might go unpunished.
But speech? Movement?
No. That was a red line.
Perhaps laughter was the only thing we were allowed to do without fearing for our lives.
I had to remain still—no gestures, no sounds—no matter what the doll did.
But my heart… it was pounding.
Would she really manage to make us laugh?
Would this round be a victory for us… or just another trap in this maze of madness?
I had no choice but to brace myself.
The doll, it seemed… was about to begin her performance.
---
She spoke in that sharp, strange voice of hers, tinged with mockery:
"I just need one of you to laugh... and I will win this round."
Then a short silence followed before she added:
"And since the first player won the first round, you have now gained one point."
She said it like she was doing us a favor, even though the point we'd earned had cost us pain, fear, and unbearable tension.
She paused again, as if giving us a moment to absorb her words, then continued in a voice brimming with mischief—like she was savoring the unraveling of our nerves:
"So now, it is my turn for revenge, is not it? Hehehehehe."
Something inside me shivered at the sound of her laugh.
There was something in her voice… like a broken machine, or the rasping of a worn-out doll that had lost its childhood and been left only with madness.
I felt a dark weight spread through the air around us—as if the very oxygen had turned toxic, heavy, unbearable.
Then she went on, speaking loudly to herself—or so it seemed. But every word was aimed directly at us, each one a needle pricking into our already fraying minds:
"So... what kind of laugh do you two have?"
Then she added:
"Do you laugh like: Hahaha? Or: Hehehehe? Or maybe: hohohoh?"
What…?
Had she completely lost her mind?
I froze in place.
What kind of question was that?
What kind of logic could be applied to a being like this?
I asked myself in stunned disbelief:
Is she serious?
Does she actually want us to laugh just so we can describe the type of laugh we have?
Do we laugh to amuse her—or laugh because we're scared of her wrath?
It felt like I had entered a new level of the nightmare—one where nothing she did could be predicted.
And who would be foolish enough to fall into this trap and laugh just to answer her question?
Me?
Cairo?
No. Impossible… or so I thought.
Everything remained still. Time itself felt like it had stopped.
Even my breathing became faint, barely noticeable.
Then suddenly, with no warning, her voice came again—but this time, it was different.
It was terrifying, dry, low… as if she were speaking from the bottom of a dark well.
She said in a voice soaked with fury:
"If you do not laugh now... and tell me your laugh types... I will punish you!"
The words trembled inside me.
Punish us?
For what?
For not laughing?
For following the very rules she herself had set?!
This… was cheating.
This was injustice.
Didn't she say she would respect the rules?
Didn't she say this was just a "game"?
But no… nothing about this game was normal.
No one in this place was safe.
I froze in place, my blood turning to ice.
I felt my body shrink inward, as if I wanted to disappear from existence.
My eyes were open, but I could see nothing… except the dark idea:
If I don't laugh… I'll die.
Was that the real choice she had left us?
Laugh… or die.
I stayed trapped in that hesitation, my heart pounding, my breaths shallow, my body shaking from the tension.
Then… the laugh came out.
I wasn't ready for it. I didn't mean to. But it escaped… like a choked cry, a desperate camouflage to survive.
I laughed.
"Haahaahahaha… haha…"
It was a strained laugh, strange, like someone laughing while drowning.
And seconds later, I heard another voice join me—familiar and shaky… Cairo.
He couldn't hold it in either.
He said, in a trembling voice, his laugh bouncing between fear and forced humor:
"Hoho… hohoho!"
Something strange stirred in my chest.
We laughed… but neither of us felt joy.
We laughed… but neither of us had survived just yet.
We laughed out of fear, not delight.
We laughed because we were at the mercy of a strange being—one that might not even know what mercy is… or perhaps was nothing more than a nightmare wearing a doll's face.
We laughed… because we had no other choice.
And for a moment, I wondered:
Is this the kind of laughter that keeps people alive?
Laughter filled with dread… and eyes wide open, staring at death?
The doll didn't move. She didn't say anything afterward.
But I could feel her watching… observing… smiling in the dark from where we couldn't see her.
Maybe she had won the round.
Or maybe… she was just playing.
But I was sure of one thing:
Laughter in this game… does not mean happiness.
It means something far, far worse.