"Congratulations, Player Number Eight."
The Master's voice came from the speakers with the same deadly calm the players had grown accustomed to.
"You have won ten points.Your total is now… eleven. Honestly, you're clever."
Mouse's breath hitched for a moment, then he said coldly:
"Was there any other choice?"
The Master let out a short laugh, but it sounded mocking:
"You're right.There is no other choice. Now… follow the corridor to Room Number 11. It is your room. And remember… you need a thousand points to reach freedom."
Mouse didn't comment, he just moved. His footsteps on the metal floor were steady, silent.
The corridor was narrow, its walls grey like a prison, interspersed with faint red lights that pulsed like the arteries of a giant heart. Mouse reached a metal door marked (11). He opened it slowly, revealing the interior:
A narrow room with beds arranged in tiers, stacked on top of each other like cages, resembling a miniature version of the world they had just left… but with even harsher layers.
He raised his one eye — the other covered by a rough black cloth — and took a quick glance at the occupants. There were seven others:
A hulking man who barely fit his bed.
A young man with long black hair tied back,talking incessantly as if he were the natural leader among them.
A blind old man,silent, holding his cane and just listening.
Twins who looked identical except for their hair color:one purple, the other red.
Two girls,one loud and fidgety, the other quiet and shy, barely raising her head.
Mouse didn't dwell on the details. He went straight to the top bunk, lying on his back, staring at the cold metal ceiling.
Inside, a question echoed:
"Is playing solo really the better choice…or just a faster path to death?"
New Rules
Next to his bed, he noticed a paper poster fixed to the wall. He read it carefully:
· Wait for the call.
· Fighting inside the room is forbidden, otherwise points will be deducted.
· You can form a team (up to 10 members).
· If you choose a team of three, you will face teams of three in the upcoming games.
· You can change your allegiance at any time… The decision is yours.
He finished reading and closed his good eye, analyzing the possibilities.
The sound of approaching footsteps. Mouse opened his eye and saw the young man with the long hair climbing towards him, a confident smile on his face. He extended his hand, saying:
"Hello…I'm Yuji. I assume you're too smart to stay alone. What do you think about joining us? We are the Climbers team."
Mouse stared at his hand, then looked up at him coldly:
"No,thank you. I prefer to work alone."
Yuji didn't seem bothered. He smiled as he withdrew his hand:
"No problem…If you change your mind, you'll find us waiting."
Mouse turned on his side, leaning on his arm:
"Then keep waiting."
A sudden knock on the door cut through the silence, followed by the sound of the door opening automatically. The hulking man got up and opened it cautiously, finding something unfamiliar behind it: a metallic automaton carrying a food tray. Without a word, it entered and distributed the food with mechanical precision, then left as it had come.
An eerie silence fell. None of them had seen anything like it before… a mixture of machine and soldier.
Everyone ate in silence, some with fear, others with indifference. Mouse ate his food slowly, his eyes tracking the automaton until it left, as if observing an old ghost.
And silence settled again as the players began eating. The girl with restless hands devoured her portion quickly, while the quiet, shy one only picked at hers, lowering her eyes every time someone looked her way.
Mouse ate slowly, his movements precise, almost mechanical. He wasn't used to sharing spaces—or feelings—with others. Yet, he felt a light touch of hesitation near him.
The shy girl, cheeks faintly flushed, held out her tray. On it lay a small piece of bread she hadn't touched.
Her voice was barely audible:
"Y-you can have this… if you want."
Mouse turned his single eye toward her. For a moment, he didn't understand. Kindness wasn't something he expected in this place. He stared at the bread, then at her trembling hands.
"Why?" he asked flatly, his tone colder than he intended.
She lowered her gaze, whispering, "You… looked hungry."
Something inside him stirred—an old echo of the boy he once was. He almost wanted to refuse, to keep the distance between them intact. But instead, he reached out, his scarred hand brushing against hers for a second as he took the bread.
Warmth.
It was faint, fleeting, but real.
Mouse muttered, "…Thank you."
Her lips curved in the slightest, shy smile. She turned away quickly, hugging her knees, as if afraid of being seen.
Mouse sat still, chewing slowly, his thoughts heavier than the metal ceiling above him. He had chosen solitude, but in that single moment, he wondered if solitude was truly possible—when even silence could carry a heartbeat not his own.
Five hours passed. Some slept, others kept watching. Suddenly, a strange sound reverberated: heavy drums and primitive horns shaking the room's walls.
Above the door, a small screen lit up, displaying a sentence moving from right to left:
"Come out… The next game awaits you."
This was followed by the same metallic sound of the door, opening slowly.
Everyone stood up. Tension filled their eyes. Some clung to each other, others stepped forward fearfully.
And they walked out…
Seven of them together,with Mouse among them, his steps steady.