Wen's first awareness was the sound of water shifting above him—soft at first, like a quiet ripple, and then louder as bubbles rushed upward in frantic streams. He tried to breathe, but the moment he opened his mouth, cold water pushed its way in, flooding the space meant for air. His chest tightened. His instincts screamed for oxygen, yet his body obeyed the rules of the trap he had been thrown into: breathe, and the water would claim the space.
A hand—strong, steady, merciless—grabbed his hair from above. The grip pulled sharply, pressing against his scalp as if trying to anchor him to pain rather than fear. Wen felt himself lifted, his face breaking through the surface with a burst of cool air rushing around his skin. Water ran down in streams, rejoining the drum below in rhythmic droplets.
He gasped hard, taking in as much air as he could. He knew exactly what was coming next. This brief breath wasn't mercy; it was just a pause. A reminder that he still needed air… and that someone else now controlled how much of it he would receive.
Wen tried to blink away water from his eyes. He barely managed to register the blurred shapes around him before the same hand forced him back down. The drum swallowed him whole with a loud splash. His eyes were open, but the sting from the water made everything blur. Red lines spread across his vision like thin cracks. His face felt hot from the pressure, and his body felt heavier with each second.
He fought the urge to shut his eyes, but the weight of exhaustion tugged on him. The world dimmed, closing in like a narrowing tunnel. Just as his eyes began to fall shut, the hand returned again—dragging him out and letting him fall onto his feet.
Wen staggered slightly, his legs trembling. He shook his head to clear the dripping water from his face, but when he tried to lift his hands, he realized something was wrong. His wrists wouldn't move freely. Instead, they stopped abruptly with a metallic pull. He looked down and saw chains—thick ones—wrapped firmly around both wrists, connecting down to his ankles, limiting every movement.
Before he could even process it, smack!
A sharp slap—not violent enough to injure, but strong enough to snap him fully awake—landed on the side of his face. The sound echoed inside the metal walls around them. Wen's vision sharpened. The figures standing in front of him became clearer.
There were three of them—tall, silent, each wearing a mask that hid their faces completely. Their hair was visible, falling loosely over their shoulders or tied behind them, showing that these weren't statues or machines. They were people. Real people. Yet the masks made them look more like shadows.
He looked around. The place felt too cramped to be a room. The walls clanged softly with every shift of weight, every breath, every movement. Metal… everywhere.
Why is a basement made of iron?
The thought was strange, confusing—until it clicked.
He wasn't in a basement.
He wasn't in a room.
He was in a container. A massive iron container.
A trailer container.
And it was moving.
His heart thumped once, hard.
Before he could question anything, one of the masked men dangled something in front of him. A key. It swung slowly, catching the dim light as it danced left and right. Wen's eyes followed it, partly out of instinct and partly because the man clearly wanted him to.
After a few seconds of teasing, the man gripped the key firmly and used it to unlock the chains on Wen's wrists. The moment the chains loosened and fell, Wen's heart lifted with relief—only for it to drop again the very next moment.
Because the man simply picked the chain back up…
…and fastened it onto Wen again.
This time, on purpose.
Wen's eyes widened.
What kind of game is this?
The same man then walked toward a massive drum on the floor. It was transparent—not completely, but enough to see inside it. Enough to see the water. Enough to see the shapes at the bottom… dozens of keys. Maybe more.
The man used the key in his hand to unlock the padlock on the drum.
He turned to Wen again, lifting the key between two fingers.
Twisting it in the air.
Letting it catch Wen's attention once more.
Wen watched carefully. The man wanted him to see this.
He wanted him to remember this key.
He let it dangle for a few more seconds… then dropped it into the drum.
The surface rippled. Bubbles popped. The key sank slowly—like a leaf falling in slow motion. Right to the bottom. Joining the others, disappearing into the maze of look-alikes.
Wen's stomach twisted.
He understood what this was now.
This was a test. A puzzle. A cruel one.
Before he could move or react, the men grabbed him again—one holding his shoulders, the other lifting his legs. Together, they tossed him into the drum.
He hit the water hard, cold sliding up his skin like a shock wave. The drum was tall, narrow, and there was barely enough room for him to stretch his limbs. Even if he wasn't chained, swimming properly would be almost impossible.
He pushed upward, but the chains tugged him downward again. He looked up just in time to see one of the masked men closing the lid. Slowly.
Deliberately.
A small hole—barely wide enough for one hand—was left at the top of the lid. Wen stared at it as the cover lowered, staring until it sealed shut with a heavy slam.
Darkness wrapped around him.
It hit him then—
The exhaustion.
The weakness.
The cold pressure of water.
And the realization of what this test truly meant.
They had weakened him on purpose.
Then chained his limbs.
Then locked him inside a drum full of keys.
Only one of which could free him.
And they had dropped him into it.
This wasn't punishment.
It was a challenge.
A cruel, twisted challenge.
From inside the drum, Wen could still see a little through the transparent wall. He watched as the masked men climbed onto a set of motorcycles positioned at the far end of the container. One of them pushed open the back doors of the trailer. Bright sunlight spilled in, revealing the moving road beneath them.
The motorcycles growled to life one by one.
The masked men mounted them, looked back at Wen…
…and waved.
Then they rode out of the moving trailer, accelerating onto the road behind the truck, leaving him alone.
Wen felt the container doors swing shut again. Darkness returned. The trailer bumped once, hard enough to send a splash of water toward his face. He coughed underwater, pushing himself upward as far as the chains allowed.
He looked down.
The keys at the bottom glimmered faintly.
One key.
One chance.
Among dozens.
He dove down as far as he could and grabbed one. He tried it on the padlock binding his wrists. Nothing. He dropped it and tried another. And another.
The second failed.
The third.
The fifth.
The tenth.
His breaths grew shorter. His frustration rose. The water pressed against him from all sides. He tried again.
Fifteenth key.
Seventeenth.
Twentieth.
None worked.
He felt the edges of panic creeping in, tightening his chest. He forced himself to breathe slowly—there was still time. There had to be.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed one key—slightly different. Its shape reminded him of the key the masked man had dangled earlier.
He grabbed it quickly and brought it to the lock on his wrists. It slid in—
—then snapped.
The broken piece stuck inside the lock, and the larger piece floated downward to the water's surface before drifting to the bottom.
He slammed his hands against the drum. It wasn't out of fear—it was frustration. The metal thudded but made no sound outside.
No one could hear him.
His arms weakened. His limbs grew heavier. His body drifted downward slowly, as though the water had decided to hold him instead of fight him.
His fingers brushed the bottom of the drum—cold metal smooth beneath them.
And then—
The world shifted.
A violent jolt rippled through the container. Wen felt his body float for a brief moment, the water rising around him in a swirl. The trailer wasn't moving steadily anymore.
It was falling.
The entire trailer had left the road…
and was heading off the cliff.
The water around him churned in a spiral. Light fractured through the drum's surface as the container tilted sharply downward.
Wen hung suspended in the water, weightless for a brief instant, watching the world tilt sideways—
—and then everything was swallowed by the roar of air as the trailer plunged down.