Everything was dark when you finally opened your eyes. Exhaustion and confusion clouded your mind as you struggled to understand where you were. The first thing you noticed was the rows of bunk beds surrounding you, some occupied by sleeping figures, others by people shifting restlessly. You were lying on a simple bed in a lifeless room dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. You looked down and saw that you were dressed in a green uniform with the number 333 printed on your chest.

Your stomach twisted. You frantically checked your pockets—nothing. No phone, no wallet, nothing you had brought with you. A cold shiver ran down your spine as your fingers combed through your hair, your mind racing to make sense of the situation. Around you, murmurs of confusion filled the air as others stirred awake, wearing the same green uniforms with different numbers.

Questions and whispers spread across the room, but the noise died abruptly when the metallic sound of a door opening echoed. A group of people entered, their faces hidden behind red jumpsuits and circle masks. One of them, with a square mask, stepped forward. His voice, cold and devoid of emotion, filled the room.

"Welcome to the game," he announced. "You are here because you carry a debt too great to pay. This is your chance to start over. If you win, the prize will be yours."

Murmurs of disbelief rose. A man shouted, demanding to know where they were, while another voice trembled as they begged to be let out. The square-masked man ignored them, continuing with chilling calm. "The first game will begin shortly. Prepare yourselves."

The door slammed shut behind them, and silence returned, broken only by the faint hum of the lights. The room was heavy with fear and uncertainty.

The field for the first game, 'Red Light, Green Light,' was vast and desolate. A twisted, robotic doll stood at one end, her childlike appearance unnerving and out of place. When her voice sang, the players moved. When she turned, they froze—or at least tried to. The first mistake was fatal. The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the air, and a player dropped, blood pooling beneath them. Panic set in.

You froze mid-step, your breath caught in your chest as the gravity of the situation hit you. This wasn't a game; it was survival. Each wrong move was a death sentence. As you carefully calculated your movements, chaos unfolded around you. Bodies fell, screams echoed, and the once-determined players became desperate.

You reached the finish line, your legs weak beneath you as you glanced back at the field. Bodies littered the ground like broken dolls, and the remaining players stood in stunned silence. Ninety people were gone in the blink of an eye, leaving a suffocating weight in the air.

Back in the dormitory, the tension was palpable. Players whispered among themselves, fear and paranoia growing as night fell. The faint light in the room flickered, casting eerie shadows. You sat on your bunk, trembling, unable to shake the image of the lifeless bodies. Around you, the others were just as shaken, some crying softly, others staring blankly into the distance.

Then, chaos erupted in the darkness. The soft sounds of shuffling feet gave way to muffled cries and sudden, sharp noises—players attacking one another. Your instincts kicked in as you scrambled to avoid the frenzy, clutching the edges of your bunk like a lifeline. You knew you couldn't stay in one place for long.

You slipped toward the side door, your heart pounding as you whispered to the guard stationed there. "Please... I need to go to the bathroom."

The guard stared at you through a triangular mask, unmoving. You pleaded again, your voice desperate. Finally, the guard relented, leading you and another player—a man with a thin, wiry frame—to the bathroom. The tension was thick as they entered, the door shutting behind them.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to calm your racing thoughts. The other player, silent until now, suddenly turned, eyes wild. Before you could react, the man lunged at you, brandishing a sharpened fork. The attack was swift and chaotic, metal clashing against tile as you dodged, adrenaline fueling your every move.

The fight was brutal—shoving, grappling, and desperate attempts to gain the upper hand. The man's desperation was palpable, his strength fueled by madness. You managed to push him back, but the man came at you again, pinning you against the sink. The sharp edge of the fork hovered dangerously close to your throat.

Just as you felt your strength fading, the bathroom door burst open. A triangle-masked guard entered, his gun raised. A single, deafening shot rang out, and the man crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Blood seeped across the tiles, pooling around you, who sat frozen in shock.

The guard lowered his weapon, his voice cold and devoid of empathy. "Get up. You can't stay here."

Shaking, you stood, your legs unsteady beneath you. You didn't dare look back at the body as the guard led you out. The game was only beginning, and survival was far from guaranteed.