The fifth round began — the decisive one, the hardest of all the rounds I had endured.
Time passed with excruciating slowness, as though the hands of the clock had frozen, and every second stretched into an endless eternity.
The pain in my back intensified, as if heavy weights kept piling upon my shoulders, pressing harder with each passing moment. Sweat trickled from my forehead, falling slowly onto my face and soaking into my shirt — each drop a cruel reminder of how merciless these moments were.
My hands, which had remained stiff and motionless all this time, longed to move, to be freed from the invisible restraints binding them. But I resisted, clinging tightly to my silence and stillness, fighting every temptation to break.
My heart pounded violently in my chest, as though it wished to burst, and my breaths grew sharper and faster. Beside me, Cairo was struggling as well, his own ragged breathing echoing mine. It felt as if we were sharing the same unbearable burden — this merciless battle.
The doll, however, showed no sign of weakness. She stood firm, like an unyielding rock, untouched by my suffering or by the cruel passage of time.
I desperately wished the ten minutes would pass quickly, for I could no longer bear the pain, nor the strict watch over every single movement of my body.
And then, breaking through that heavy silence, came the familiar sound:
"Trnn... trnn..."
It rang out like a bell announcing the beginning of a new chapter in this merciless ordeal — a chapter that might bring either more torment… or release.
I froze in place, a shiver running through me, my eyes fixed on the suffocating darkness, bracing for what was to come.
---
While I groaned under the weight of exhaustion and pain, her familiar voice rang out again — that childlike yet sinister tone that always stirred unease within me:
"Who is the one the insect has fallen upon?"
Silence.
The world seemed to stop. The only sounds were our heavy breathing and the racing of our hearts within the suffocating dark. It was as though a thick veil of silence separated us from the answer — the answer that could decide our fate.
And then, suddenly, the silence was broken by a trembling but clear voice:
"I… it's me."
It was Cairo's voice.
Torn between fear and pain, carrying within it a fragile mixture of worry and hope. The weight of that moment fell heavily upon me, leaving me speechless.
The fifth round, the final round, now stood before us.
Our last chance in this suffocating nightmare — the round that would determine everything: whether we would survive and escape… or remain forever trapped in this cruel game.
I closed my eyes. Not out of fear, but because fatigue consumed me — a deep exhaustion born of endless pain, fear, and suffering. I closed them to find a fragment of stillness amidst the torment, to gather what little strength remained.
And in that inner silence, one wish repeated in my mind:
I hope, truly, that Cairo succeeds. That he can make the doll laugh, shatter this wall of cold madness. He is my last hope — the one thread keeping me tied to survival.
My breathing slowed slightly, though my heart still thundered in my chest. Every cell in my body waited for the moment that would decide our fate.
Would he succeed? Or would this final round cast us into a bottomless pit?
This was the moment — everything stood at the edge of the abyss. All I could do was wait, clinging to a fragile hope… yet strong enough to keep me alive.
---
In the suffocating stillness, Cairo's hesitant voice finally broke the silence:
"T-there's… sick tea… do you know why?"
His voice shook, as if summoning courage, then he paused, as though expecting some response from the void.
Then he continued, in a softer tone:
"Because… it has sugar."
Silence returned, heavy and crushing. Time itself seemed to slow again.
My heart pounded violently against my ribs, my clenched hands twitching with the strain of waiting.
Inside, I screamed silently:
'What are you doing, Cairo?! What kind of silly joke is this?! Do you really think this will make her laugh?!'
But I remained frozen, unable to speak, unable even to whisper.
Then his voice came again, this time with more insistence despite the tension:
"Th-there are fries and a burger running… do you know why?"
He forced a smile into his words, finishing:
"Because they're fast food."
I knew it was mildly funny, yes. But I also knew it wasn't enough to shift the tide of this cruel game.
Silently, I wished for Cairo to push harder, to find something better, something that might truly break the doll's facade.
Time pressed on — the minute was drawing to its end.
Then his voice rose once more, this time steadier, more confident:
"There's a bald man… he had an idea, but it didn't last. Do you know why?"
A faint smile could be heard in his words:
"Because it slipped off his head."
I nearly smiled myself — nearly laughed even — but I bit it back, remembering that any sound, any slip, could cost us everything.
My body remained frozen, but my heart cracked open with a spark of hope.
'Come on, doll… laugh,' I whispered inwardly.
And then, through the thick silence, it came — a faint giggle:
"Hehehehehehe..."
The doll laughed.
It was soft, but real. Carrying within it a reluctant acknowledgement of Cairo's effort.
Then, in that eerie, playful voice, she added:
"Ahhh, your attempts to meke me laugh... were truly funny."
Hope burst within me — like a star lighting the dark sky.
That was the moment I realized it.
We had won.
H… had we really won?
Had the doll actually laughed?
That meant we had three points, and she had only two.
Which meant… we had triumphed.