The soft weight of six breads and a heavy, weathered canteen pressed into Lira's arms as she finally rejoined Ryn and Joren near the shattered fountain.
The dim light of the evening lanterns flickered weakly above, casting trembling shadows that danced across their tired faces.
Joren's pale eyes flickered briefly, a fragile relief sparking as he saw his sister safe and sound.
The corners of his mouth twitched toward a faint smile — the kind that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.
Ryn's narrowed gaze cut straight to Lira's face, concerned with sharpening her gentle features. "Are you okay?" Her voice was rough but steady, a grounding anchor in the lingering tension.
Lira gave a slow, deliberate nod, steadying her breath as the weight inside her threatened to pull her under. "I'm fine."
She shifted the bundle of bread carefully into Ryn's awaiting hands. "Here. Have some."
Her violet eyes lifted to meet Ryn's with a warm softness. " You know... Sometimes you make me feel older than I am." A smile teased the edges of her lips, "Even if I'm two years older."
Ryn's lips twitched in reluctant acknowledgment, the moment of lightness fragile but genuine.
The timer blinking in the distance marked the moment like a silent drumbeat — steady at first, then halting abruptly after reaching 0:00, the mechanical pulse dissolved into a pervasive hush that wrapped the village square in suspended time.
"That cabin," Ryn murmured, voice barely breaking the stillness around them, "the village head's It was locked tight before. After allI I tried to open it."
Then, the heavy wooden door creaked on ancient hinges, groaning a reluctant invitation.
"Should we go in...?" Joren hesitantly murmur to her sister, Lira.
"Yeah... I think we should," Ryn replies without a hitch, "since aren't we too, curious what's really happening right now?"
Lira just nodded in respond, and carefully wheeled Joren forward in his makeshift wheelchair.
Ryn followed,stepping softly as her eyes adjusted to the warm flicker of lantern light revealing the modest space — a 5 by 5 meter room built of rough-hewn boards. The faint aroma of aged wood and earth hung in the air.
A sturdy wooden table and chair, their surfaces worn smooth by years of use, stood near a small desk cluttered with scattered booklets edges frayed and pages yellowed. An oil lantern swung gently from a low hook; with its warm, flickering glow casting shadows with the space around it.
In the corner a tiny kitchen cabinet sat its painted chipped walk and a simple bamboo-framed bed beside it.
The atmosphere was quiet anchored in familiarity and the humble rhythms of rustic life.
However without warning the air thickened, as if the cabin itself inhaled deeply.
The wood grain beneath their fingers seemed to pulse softly, lines blurring and warping as the boundaries of the room wavered like heat rising over a bonfire.
A sudden dissonance twined tight inside Lira's stomach. The once-solid walls twisted and time and space unraveling into something strange and surreal.
The texture of the wood softened, melting into wax, quite literary.
Colors shifted, fading from warm earth tones to sterile whites that gleamed with an unnatural purity. The humble cabin dissolved, replaced by a vast, ethereal chamber bathed in soft, diffused light that seemed too perfect, too clean — a place both mesmerizing and alien.
Chrome furniture with sleek, polished surfaces gleamed sharply beside her: a small side table reflecting the ambient glow, lush green potted plants breathing life into the otherwise clinical air.
The spacious room, neat and elegantly sparse, felt more like a dream or a memory of a future rather than a refuge.
A growing unease spread through their bodies. Joren's breath hitched violently before his body convulsed uncontrollably. He doubled over, vomiting with harsh, ragged gulps onto the floor, each spasm wracking his frame with a raw intensity that echoed in this silent space.
Ryn staggered to his side, pallid and trembling. Her face drained of color, her lips trembling as she fought back nausea, the wave cresting dangerously close to overwhelming her own throat. Her hand trembled as it reached out for Joren's shaking shoulder.
Lira's throat tightened fiercely, bile clawing upward with a sharp insistence, burning her esophagus even as she clenched her jaw to resist. Sweeping panic rose in her chest, quick and cold, as if a shroud were tightening around her lungs. Her heartbeat thundered, clashing wildly against a suffocating weight of dizziness creeping at the edges of her vision.
The room seemed to expand and contract with unnatural breath, disorienting and surreal. Boundaries shifted again — walls fading into impossible light, space folding inwards then blossoming outward.
Literally, the cabin itself lived and breathed beyond human comprehension.
Slowly, as mysteriously as it had swept in, the violent sickness began to recede.
Joren's spasms eased; his breathing found a ragged rhythm. Ryn leaned heavily against the wall, eyelids fluttering, muscles relaxing just as the threat inside her had been lifted.
Lira's pulse slowed, once jagged and frantic, settling into a dull thrum beneath her skin. The sour edge in her throat dulled to a faint ache.
The clinical whiteness of the room softened into a gentle calm.
A quiet clarity that washed over her like a tide, soothing yet uncanny.
But beneath the surface of the quiet lay a simmering unease: the residue of disorientation, the sharp undercurrent of fear that the familiar world had just been pulled from beneath them, and that unraveling was far from complete.
Unnoticed by the three, two silhouettes lingered, shadowed and inscrutable, etched against the left wall.
Ryn steadied Joren with gentle determination, helping him find balance as his body still trembled from the sudden events.
Then she turned toward Lira, concern deep in her eyes that seemed to pierce through the surreal whiteness surrounding them.
She reached out a steady hand and spoke softly, yet with quiet resolve, "You both okay?"
Lira grasped her hand with a faint tremor, steadying herself against the dizziness that still lurked at the edges of her vision.
Her violet eyes flickered with confusion and a colder thread beneath a genuine hint of fear she allowed herself ince again.
"Where… where are we" Her voice cracked and uncertain.
Joren's pale face mirrored her bewilderment. "I don't know. This place. It's like nothing I've ever seen before." He looked between them, voice small but earnest.
Ryn's jaw tightened as she scanned the cold, white space surrounding them. "How did we get here? What is this place?"
A heavy, oppressive silence sank over them, the air thick like a fog that smothered breath and thought alike.
Every second stretched taut, waiting.
Suddenly, the silence shattered. A harsh male voice cut through the quiet with a sharp edge: "Dgovk rurjkv fhivwieyn."
The bulky man's lips moved, but his first words were strange — an incoherent stream of guttural sounds and odd intonations that vibrated in the stale air like a broken radio humming across static.
The trio exchanged confused glances, brows furrowed as harsh syllables tumbled out, alien and thick as if from some forgotten tongue.
"Grh'thak vry shaalr-ek mal'kor vasc'n!"
the man said, voice low and rough with an eerie cadence that made the hairs on Lira's neck stand up.
Ryn blinked sharply, shaking her head. "What… what is he saying? It sounds like nonsense."
Joren frowned. "Is that even a language?"
The bulky man's ice - blue eyes flickered with an unsettling glint as a hollow, strange laugh escaped him — half growl, half chuckle.
Then, the strange sounds began to shift, the cadence smoothing, words becoming faintly nearer to something they could almost understand.
But abruptly, the man's mouth twisted into a snarl and he snapped in a harsher tone — still strange but now unmistakably commanding.
"Enough. Just shut up, you three."
From the shadows, a bulky man stepped forward, dominating the space like a gathering storm.
His massive frame strained against a tight black bodybuilder's shirt marked with a snarling tiger sprawled across his broad chest.
His short-cropped dark hair and faint scar along a strong jawline gave him the look of someone hardened by countless fights.
Piercing ice-blue eyes locked onto the trio with cold menace, calculating and unforgiving. However, accompanied his blonde hair make him look like handsome, gentle merchant — in contrast to his aura.
Moreover, his modern, faded jeans felt out of place in contrast to their ragged attire, embodying an unwelcome intrusion into their 'ancient' world.
Beside him, a petite woman shifted, slight but quiet in a sleek black jacket zipped up crisply. Her dark hair pulled into a firm ponytail revealed sharp, features and deep almond-shaped eyes. Her voice was low and clipped, muttering something undecipherable.
"You—shut up too."
The three exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the strangers' presence confusing their thoughts even more.
Ryn squared her shoulders, voice rising with authority and suspicion. "Who are you? What do you want from us?"
The bulky man's lips curled into a sardonic smirk. "Aren't you given instructions already?"
Lira frowned, eyes narrowing. "What instructions? And who the hell are you?"
The man chuckled, a harsh, gravelly sound that echoed off the sterile walls. "Don't tell me you wandered in here without a clue about what's happening. Or you those people—"
Noticing the atmosphere of the three girls infront of him, he paused.
" Anyways, just know one thing: you just entered hell; whether you like it or not. That's all. "
The petite woman's gaze swept coldly over the trio, her voice biting. "There's no opting out. You move when the game says, or you don't move at all."
Joren's lips trembled as he found courage to ask, "What game? Why us?"
The bulky man let out a deep, rumbling chuckle — a sound that resonated like distant thunder vibrating through the room; his eyes glints with dark amusement as he crossed his powerful arms.
But, before anyone could respond,a large bioluminescent screen shimmered to life against the wall, pulsing softly with eerie blue light. Words formed in soft bluish light, suspended like runes written in the air
The words appeared, suspended midair like fragments of a prophecy:
THE GAME WILL NOW START!
THE GAME WILL BE CALLED "SAFE OR NOT SAFE"
IT WILL BE DIVEDED INTO TWO COMPONENTS WHERE PLAYERS CAN DECIDE WHERE TO PLAY: SMART OR DUMB.
INSTRUCTIONS:
PLAYERS MUST SOLVE 50 QUESTIONS TO ADVANCE TO THE NEXT ROOM.
'SMART PLAYERS' WILL RECEIVE NO ASSISTANCE AND MUST SOLVE PUZZLES ALONE.
'DUMB PLAYERS' WILL BE GIVEN CHOICE TO PLAY MINI-GAMES TO RECEIVE HINTS UPON SUCCESSION.
NOTE: PLAYERS WHO FAIL TO ENTER THE GAME SITE OR FAIL THE GAME WILL BE IMMEDIATELY SUBJECTED TO JUDGEMENT.
THE GAME ENDS FIVE HOURS AFTER IT BEGINS.
MAY THE GOD OF HARMONY BE WITH YOU.
GOOD LUCK. ☺️
The glowing script dissolved like bubbles bursting, leaving a cold hush settling back into the transformed chamber.
Two stark white tables materialized almost instantly near the vanished screen, each bearing a large bucket: one brimmed with blue sticks, the other filled with red.
The deep blue glow from one bucket and the fiery blush of the other seemed to pulse softly into the air, calling the players at present.
The bulky man, gravelly voice broke the silence as he read the text in front of him, "Choose well. Your stick decides your fate."
He glanced pointedly at the buckets.
Lira's fingers instinctively reached toward the blue sticks but hesitated, pulling back as her heart thudded uncertainly.
Ryn and Joren exchanged wary looks, their hands hovering but not yet committing to a choice.
The petite girl, surprised them all by stepping calmly to the blue bucket, her fingers curling around a stick without hesitation.
She held it up a blank face as the blue glow casting eerie reflections on her void eyes. "Smart players huh?" she said simply, voice cool and unreadable.
That man shot a glance at her, then back at the trio. "Your move."
But the three remained still, uncertainty build thick in the air. No one reached for a stick.
Joren's voice broke the silence, barely audible. "What if we don't choose? What happens if we wait?"
The bulky man intervend, eyes narrowed, lips twitched into a delight grin. "Then you die. Its not like the game will wait for your indecisiveness. Although the game might as well choose for you if it likes you." His tone was equal parts warning and amusement.
Ryn's gaze hardened. "We're not children to be rushed by threats."
She took a breath, steadying herself as the weight of their situation settled deeper. "We need to understand what we're truly facing before making a choice."
Lira nodded slowly, feeling the strange cold thrill of the unknown twist tight in her belly.
The girl folded her arms, watching them with curiosity.
The tension stretched and lingered as the group stood in suspended silence, the futuristic chamber humming faintly around them.
However, just as the trio begins to act the walls shifted once more. The rough textures and irregularities of the old world dissolved into a pristine modern room bathed in soft white light.
Modern chairs gleamed beside spotless tables, vibrant green potted plants breathed quiet life into the calming air, and elegant vases sat on low shelves like delicate masterpiece.
Against one wall, five small rooms lined up neatly, each containing a single miniature table and chair.
Lira's heart pounded with a mix of dread and determination as she looked at the strange space.
Joren whispered absent mindedly, "Looks like we stepped into a different world once again."
Ryn's eyes flicked between the rooms, then back to their hesitant siblings. "Whatever 'Safe or Not Safe' is... it's only just beginning."