The air was cold.
Colder than any basement had the right to be.
The massive metal door slammed shut behind them, and the sound of the lock dropping echoed like a steel rod crashing straight into everyone's chest. The narrow corridor they stood in was drowned in the flicker of dying yellow bulbs; the concrete walls were scratched, stained, and marked with what looked disturbingly like dried blood.
A shiver ran down Lia's spine.
Not because of the cold—
but because of the truth.
This wasn't a place built for anyone to survive.
The heavy, panicked breathing of hundreds echoed through the hallway. Shoulders bumped against one another. Silence pressed down over them, thick and unbearable, as if fear itself had taken shape and hung between every pair of staring eyes.
A loud buzzer blared.
"Participants, form a line. Maintain a two-step distance from the person in front of you."
Lia, heart pounding violently against her ribs, stepped beside Hana.
Yeon stood a little behind them.
Jun—the tall man with a scarred jaw—was a few steps ahead, rigid and silent like someone who had met death more than once.
The corridor gradually opened into a massive chamber. The ceiling was so high its end disappeared into blackness. Cold white lights shone down from above, flooding the area like an operating room designed for humans instead of patients.
A long line of participants stretched before them.
Two hundred… three hundred…
No one knew the exact number.
But everyone could feel it:
each of them was nothing more than a piece on a chessboard of death.
And no one wanted to be the first sacrifice.
Lia tried to keep her hands still, but her fingers trembled no matter how tightly she curled them. Hana whispered beside her:
"Don't panic… don't panic… it's just like any simple game."
Lia exhaled shakily.
"This isn't… a game."
Heavy boots thundered against the concrete. A group of guards marched in—black uniforms, expressionless masks, and weapons that were terrifying even to look at.
They stood on both sides of the path—
a corridor made of death.
At the far end, another door slid upward slowly, spilling bright green light into the chamber.
Hana murmured,
"I think… that's the field."
Lia took one step forward—and her breath caught.
A massive arena spread before them, shaped like a children's playground.
But not a normal one.
The ground was covered in yellow sand, yet it smelled like fresh-dug earth—like a grave.
The walls around them were painted to resemble a sky—but not a beautiful blue.
A dead, artificial, emotionless blue.
At the far end of the field stood a giant doll.
Childlike face.
Empty eyes.
Hair tied into two thick braids.
And under its chin…
Cameras.
Several of them.
Motionless, but alive.
Yeon whispered,
"I've seen this… online… but it can't be real… right?"
Jun replied without turning his head,
"From now on, everything you see is real."
Lia's stomach sank.
Loudspeakers crackled to life above them, broadcasting a flat, mechanical voice:
"Welcome to Game One:
Green Light, Red Light."
A ripple of whispers spread across the group.
Lia felt her breath freeze.
"When the the doll says 'Green Light,' you may move.
When the doll says 'Red Light,' you must stop."
Simple.
Deadly.
"Any participant caught moving after 'Red Light'… will be eliminated."
A wave of panicked breathing surged through the field.
Lia fixed her eyes on the doll.
Its eyes were still.
But they were waiting.
Waiting for someone to slip.
Hana squeezed her hand.
"Look around—there are guards everywhere. I don't think they'll tolerate even one mistake."
Lia nodded, but her throat was too dry to answer.
The Game Begins
A bell rang.
Ding—
The doll snapped backward.
The system voice:
"Green Light."
Everyone moved.
Not fast—
carefully, like people who knew even breathing too hard might get them killed.
Lia planted her feet firmly in the sand, advancing with Hana and Yeon. Jun moved ahead of them, steady and confident—like he already knew the rhythm.
"Red Light."
The doll whirled around.
A frozen, suffocating moment.
The cameras clicked sharply—
tick, tick, tick—
as they zoomed in on the crowd.
Someone moved?
A young boy near the start line slipped—just one small slide of his foot.
Lia's eyes widened.
A gunshot.
Fast.
Cold.
Merciless.
He collapsed into the sand.
Silence.
Then a scream.
But the game didn't stop.
"Green Light."
Movement again.
Faster now—panic in every step.
But every body was rigid with awareness.
Every misstep could be their last.
Lia's heart hammered so violently she felt it in her throat.
Hana's breathing was already shaky.
Yeon muttered through clenched teeth,
"If we fall… if we slip…"
Lia bit her lip.
"Don't think. Just move."
"Red Light."
Everyone froze.
Hana swayed—
almost fell—
but Lia grabbed her arm and held her steady.
A cold sweat trickled down Lia's neck.
Another gunshot behind them.
She didn't look back.
She couldn't.
She kept her eyes locked on the doll, whose lenses gleamed like the eyes of a machine built to hunt humans.
Rhythm of Death
The game continued.
Green Light. Movement.
Red Light. Death.
Every round, someone failed.
Every round, someone fell.
Every round, another shot echoed.
Somewhere behind them, a woman screamed:
"Please! Help me! My leg—!"
Lia didn't turn.
No one did.
A shot.
Silence.
A silence heavier than any scream.
"I can't… I can't do this…" Hana whispered.
Lia squeezed her hand harder.
"You can. Look at the finish line."
The finish line was far, but visible—
a single red stripe.
Their only salvation.
If salvation even existed.
Jun kept advancing ahead of everyone, moving with unnatural confidence.
Lia muttered,
"It's like he's been here before…"
But there was no time to question it.
"Green Light."
Lia, Hana, and Yeon rushed forward—faster now.
The finish line drew closer.
And then—
Yeon's foot caught in the sand.
He fell.
Lia's heart stopped.
"Yeon!"
"Red Light."
Lia froze mid-turn.
Hana covered her mouth to stop a gasp.
Yeon lay facedown—
completely still.
Cameras zoomed in.
Lia held her breath.
Yeon didn't blink.
Didn't twitch.
Even his breathing was nearly invisible.
Seconds crawled by.
No shot.
Lia realized:
sometimes survival meant becoming a corpse.
The Finish Line
The game pushed on.
Players crossed the red line one by one—
legs trembling, chests heaving, faces pale as ash.
Lia and Hana reached the line together and collapsed to their knees.
Breathing felt like drowning and suddenly breaking the surface.
Yeon crawled in moments later and rolled across it.
Jun was already there, muscles steady, eyes cold.
The cameras clicked off.
The doll fell silent.
The speakers blared again:
"Game One complete.
Surviving participants—
proceed to the exit."
Lia turned back.
The field was littered with bodies.
And among the chaos, on a raised platform—
the man with the white mask stood watching.
Silent.
Still.
As if he had known every outcome from the very beginning.
His eyes behind the mask were fixed… directly on Lia.
And the only thought echoing through her mind—
This is only the beginning.