The face melted like wax.
Bones stretched and shrank beneath the surface until an entirely different face emerged—one I did not recognize.
The woman touched the wax with her hands, then peeled it away with unsettling ease, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
The sight of that melting face—combined with her calm behavior—forced me back into the farthest corner of the elevator cabin.
The frantic spinning of the spinner mirrored the chaos inside my mind. My hand trembled so violently that I clutched it to my chest, afraid it would fall. My chest rose and fell as if a mountain had been placed upon it.
When she noticed my condition, she turned to me and said:
"Don't worry… I didn't kidnap you. Not exactly. You could call it a rescue operation."
*Ding.*
The elevator doors finally opened.
Level -4.
Four floors underground.
I held my breath, expecting torture devices, terrifying medical chairs, experimental drugs.
Instead—
The scene was nothing like that.
Outside was an exact replica of the upper floors.
The elevator opened onto the same white corridor, twisting like the stomach of a giant serpent. The sharp scent of disinfectant rushed into my nose, as though threatening to purify existence itself.
The woman stepped out, having removed the last traces of wax from her face.
"Follow me."
Her tone allowed no refusal.
My feet felt glued to the floor.
Weren't we always told never to follow strangers?
Too late for that.
I had already followed one straight into the lion's stomach.
"I won't take another step until you tell me what you want from me," I said hoarsely, clinging to what little pride I had left.
"I'll tell you everything if you follow me."
Then I remembered the message written on my window.
[They are coming!]
I didn't know who wrote it or how—but what it warned about had clearly happened.
If I thought carefully… it hadn't told me to run. It hadn't told me not to go.
It had only asked me to answer.
[I heard nothing. I saw nothing.]
I gathered what little courage I could and moved forward, driven by curiosity.
Who are they?
Why me?
Does this have something to do with the Faceless One?
Or with the hallucinations?
What hell have I been thrown into since the day I woke up?
I followed her cautiously, passing room after room, until she finally stopped at a door, opened it, and said in the same military tone:
"Go in."
The room was cream-colored, soft paintings covering the bare walls. Potted plants—though I had no idea how sunlight reached them four floors underground—grew vibrantly green.
The atmosphere was unexpectedly comfortable, unlike the corridor that seemed to digest everyone who entered with invisible acid.
But what made me stumble were the two men sitting opposite each other on leather sofas that gave the room an official air.
I knew both of them.
The first, lifting a cup of coffee to his lips, was the man named Saleem—the one I met in the support group.
The well-dressed man in the suit.
Was he kidnapped too?
But seeing him sit there so comfortably, I quickly dismissed that thought. He looked more like the leader of a secret organization who kidnapped others—rather than a victim.
As for the second…
"We'll meet again soon!"
It was the hallucination from the pharmacy.
When he saw me, he waved cheerfully.
"Yo, we meet again!"
I ignored him completely. I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of the others like I had at the pharmacy.
"Please, have a seat, Miss Mariam."
Just as I expected, the well-dressed man was in charge.
The wax-faced woman walked in and sat beside him on the same leather sofa.
"I won't sit. Say what you have to say so I can leave."
"Sit down. This will take time."
I dragged my feet to the sofa opposite him and sat, leaving distance between myself and the "hallucination" beside me. I avoided looking at him.
The suited man brought a cup of tea for me and another for the wax-faced woman.
"We have met before," he began, "but I would like to introduce myself again, because from now on we will be meeting often. My name is Suleiman. I am the leader of Gamma Squad in a branch of an organization called…"
He paused.
"National Unseen Limitation League."
"Also known as N.U.L.L."
"It is a global secret organization specializing in the supernatural and abnormal phenomena."
He leaned slightly forward.
"And I say again—secret."
For a moment, I couldn't process the flood of information coming from his mouth.
An organization… what?
Something like this exists in the world?
I glanced at the woman across from me. Only moments ago she had been an exact copy of my friend. Now her face had melted into another one—I didn't even know if it was her real face.
If I hadn't seen it myself, I would have thought I was on some hidden camera show.
Wait.
Does that mean I also—
When the man noticed the shift in my expression, he continued:
"So let me ask you something before we proceed. Have your hallucinations continued despite taking antipsychotic medication? Or perhaps… even now?"
I forced myself not to glance instinctively at the man sitting beside me.
"No. I haven't seen anything."
"You liar! Aren't you seeing me right now?" the hallucination shouted playfully.
Suleiman took a sip of his coffee and moistened his lips before continuing.
"Really? You truly don't see anything? What about sounds? Do you hear anything?"
"No. I didn't hear anything. And I didn't see anything."
I lied without hesitation.
I didn't even blink.
"Are you ignoring me?" the hallucination protested beside me.
I focused on the teacup in my hand.
Then I noticed the faint shadow of a smile forming on Suleiman's face.
"If that's the case," he said calmly, "why are you pretending you don't see or hear the man sitting next to you?"
His words forced me to turn toward the figure beside me, disbelief flashing through my mind.
Wait.
Are you saying the man next to me isn't a hallucination?
He's real?
"Well? Can you see me now?" he grinned mockingly.
I heard a muffled laugh from the wax-faced woman.
I'm sorry, message on my window.
I failed at the very first question.
I walked straight into the trap.