The memory of those final moments on the road was like a blur caught in a broken mirror—fragmented and incomprehensible. Riley remembered the shriek of tires, the weightless moment of impact, and the awful, irrevocable certainty of death.
Then… nothing.
Her eyes snapped open to a world that didn't make sense. Blinding white lights seared her vision as the sterile, clinical scent of antiseptic filled her nose. She tried to lift her head, but nausea surged through her body, forcing her to remain still. A distant, rhythmic hum reverberated through the room like a machine breathing for her.
Disoriented, Riley blinked hard and sat up. The space around her was a featureless white chamber with smooth walls and no visible seams. A faint blue light pulsed around the edges of the ceiling, giving the room an unearthly glow. Five other people were scattered across the space, some stirring, some still, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear.
"Where… where am I?" she muttered, her voice cracking.
"That's the big question, isn't it?" a voice replied. Riley turned to see a young man crouched nearby, peering at her over a pair of thick glasses. His jet-black hair fell in a sharp undercut that brushed against his neck. He smiled faintly, though his eyes betrayed his unease.
"Can you understand me?" he asked.
"Yes," Riley said, though her voice was shaky. "Perfectly."
"That's weird," the man replied. "I'm Shen. I don't speak English. My native language is Mandarin, but here I am, understanding every word you say."
"What's going on?" Riley demanded, her breath quickening. "Where are we? Why—"
"Hey, relax," Shen interrupted, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. "Trust me, you're not the only one confused. Take a breath. You're okay. Sort of."
As Riley's senses adjusted, she became more aware of her surroundings—and the others in the room. One by one, they began to stir, their voices mixing into a cacophony of questions.
"Where the hell am I?" A girl with purple highlights in her hair stood up, rubbing her temples. Her voice was sharp, commanding attention. "What is this place?"
Another figure groaned nearby, a man with a deep, furrowed brow. He leaned against the wall, his muscles taut with tension as he surveyed the room. "This doesn't look like heaven, that's for sure," he muttered.
Shen gestured to Riley to follow him, then raised his voice to address the group. "Alright, since we're all here and breathing, let's try to get some basics down. First off, my name is Shen Zixin. I think we're all dead."
"Dead?" the girl with purple hair scoffed. "What do you mean 'dead'? We're standing here, aren't we? I feel very much alive." She gestured around her. "What kind of afterlife looks like this?"
"Let's find out," Shen said, turning to each person in turn. "You first."
The girl crossed her arms, annoyed but cooperative. "Dana Reinder. I'm Dutch. And yeah, I guess I could've died—last thing I remember was falling asleep at the wheel." Her tone softened as the admission escaped her lips.
"Hayazaki," another voice cut in. A wiry young man with tousled hair raised his hand. "Japanese. I… uh, I was messing around with some faulty wires on my gaming setup. Guess that didn't end well."
Dana rolled her eyes. "Real smart."
The tall, brooding man who had leaned against the wall straightened. "Kayode Adegoke," he said, his voice steady. "I'm Nigerian. Last thing I remember is…" He hesitated, his face tightening. "Doesn't matter. I'm here now."
The next to speak was a soft-spoken woman with her head resting on her knees. "Angela Cortez," she murmured in heavily accented English. "Spain. A bad fall… I think."
The last member of the group was a wide-eyed man who had been inspecting the far corner of the room. He turned suddenly, as if surprised they were looking at him. "Surya Nababan," he said, his words halting but clear. "Indonesia. I was... I don't remember." His gaze lingered on the glowing lights embedded in the walls. "This place is strange."
Shen nodded, then turned to Riley. "Your turn."
"Riley Jackson," she said, swallowing hard. "American. And yeah, I guess I died too. Car accident."
A heavy silence filled the room as everyone absorbed the shared realization. They had all died, and yet they were here—alive, speaking, breathing.
"This still doesn't make sense," Dana muttered. "If this is some kind of afterlife, where's the divine judgment? Or the fire and brimstone? Or, I don't know, anything?"
"Maybe this is the fire and brimstone," Kayode said dryly, gesturing at the blank walls. "An eternity of sterile nothingness."
"Well, that's depressing," Hayazaki muttered, earning a faint laugh from Angela.
"So, we're all dead, right?" she stated bluntly, her gaze scanning the room. "We messed up and now we're here, somehow understanding each other despite the language barrier. This must be some kind of afterlife, but what kind?"
The Nigerian man scoffed at her concern, prompting a sharp retort. "What's so funny?" she challenged him. "If I'm in hell, you're here with me, pal."
The Nigerian's expression turned serious. He snapped at the Indonesian, who was still exploring the room. "You! Busy snooping around. What do you think this is? Heaven, hell, or something else entirely?"
The Indonesian, caught off guard, was crouching near a clock-like device. He muttered something about a pendulum before realizing everyone was staring at him.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You're talking to me?"
"You're the only Indonesian here," the Nigerian pointed out.
"Then call me by my name," the Indonesian replied.
"Whoa, things are getting a little tense," Hayazaki interjected, his quiet presence almost invisible. "Maybe we should chill until we figure out where we are and what happened. Right, Surya?"
"You remembered my name?" Surya replied, surprised.
"Of course," Hayazaki confirmed, his statement met with a mix of smiles and eye rolls. "So, what do you know about this place? Where are we?"
"I can't say for sure," Surya admitted. "But one thing's clear: there's no food, no bathroom, just that single bed in the other room, and the only door is sealed shut."
"So, heaven or hell?" Dana inquired
"Well, to answer your question" Surya responded to Dana's question, "I'm not too sure of what qualifies as heaven or hell because this place definitely does not meet the criteria"
"But one undeniable fact is that we're trapped in a tiny space with no means of sustenance. We're screwed".
"So hell it is" Dana said.
Riley, still trying to get her bearings, heard enough to understand that they were all dead and in this small, locked room, furnished only with a table and seven awkwardly placed chairs. The sterile environment resembled a hospital waiting room, and most of them sat there like patients expecting bad news.
However, Dana, Hayazaki, and Kayode lingered at the door for a while. Kayode examined the inscriptions on the doorframe for clues, while Dana tried the handle in vain. Hayazaki had spent the better part of an hour fiddling with a terminal beside the door.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he concentrated, intensely staring at the flickering screen. He finally moved a hovering finger towards the buttons, entering a new combination, but it didn't work.
Shen joined them, peering at the screen. He was surprised to see normal instructions and understandable numbers displayed. Below the numbers 9, 5, 1, and 4, red chips had appeared on the corresponding squares.
Following the red chips, Shen entered a new code. The screen blinked. Hayazaki, overjoyed, yelled loud enough to attract everyone's attention.
Shen wasn't thrilled with the sudden audience, especially Dana and Kayode, who were now breathing down his neck, curious about the screen. It displayed seven horizontal bars, two red and five blue.
Turning to Hayazaki, Shen asked, "How many passwords have you tried?"
Hayazaki thought for a moment. "I think two. Why?"
"It seems we had seven chances," Shen said, pointing to the bars, "but you used two already. Now we only have five left."
"Five more for what?" Kayode inquired.
"I think," Shen cautiously responded, aware of the potential repercussions, "we have five more tries to enter the correct password before being locked in here for an indefinite period."
A collective groan arose. Kayode and Dana seemed more incensed than the others, but having been at it for a while, they weren't entirely surprised. They saw it as some form of progress, albeit indicative of their failure.
They left the terminal and the door alone for a while. Most of them returned to the table, the only furniture in the cramped room. However, Riley remained on the floor, away from everyone.
Trying to keep herself occupied, she recalled the last moments of her life. She remembered pushing the gas pedal to the limit, everything outside blurring into an indistinguishable mess. The reason for her actions remained elusive. Her intuition nudged her with the thought that her life wasn't great, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there had to be a reason for her speeding.
"What are you thinking about?" Shen asked, sitting beside her. "You seem less bothered than everyone else, well, besides the sleeping lady over there." He gestured towards Angela, who had claimed the only bed.
"I'm just trying to remember why I died," Riley replied, "and I'm not sure I like the answer."
"Rough," Shen said. "But honestly, I doubt anyone here has a pleasant story about their death."
"How did you die?" Riley inquired.
Shen turned his gaze away and towards the group, his mind clearly elsewhere. "It was for an exam. One of those prestigious exams that determined your entire life. I came from a poor family but was incredibly intelligent. My life revolved around scholarships, competitions, exams, and I was about to take the final one, the Gaokao, the big one."
"The pressure was immense. I was constantly studying and reading, everyone's expectations weighing heavily on me. A friend offered me pills to help focus, claiming they would help. I hadn't eaten well while studying, and I knew it was dangerous to take stimulants on an empty stomach, but a part of me had already given up. I figured the worst would happen, and here I am."
"Wow, that's intense," Riley murmured, "I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," Shen replied. "I did it to myself. It's okay."
A somber silence settled between them, both sad but strangely comforting. In a low voice, Shen leaned closer to Riley and whispered, "I don't think we're the only ones with messed-up stories. You see that guy, Hayazaki?" He subtly pointed at him. "He's changed his story about how he died three times already. First, it was exposed cables, then, when I was talking to Surya, he shifted it to slipping in the bathtub."
"Really?" Riley was confused. "Why does he keep coming up with silly ways to die?"
A smirk appeared on their faces. "I don't know, but I'm sure he's hiding the real reason. It's fine, though. He doesn't
have to tell us anyway. None of them have spoken about their deaths except for Angela, though."
"How did Angela die?" Riley whispered back.
"She overdosed on sleeping pills," Shen whispered.
"Oh my gosh, no way," Riley whispered.
"Yeah," Shen whispered. "She said, and I quote, 'I got really tired and I wanted to sleep for a long time, so I took a bunch of my mom's sleeping pills, and then I woke up here, still sleepy as hell.'"
"Wow, and... look... she's still sleeping. How does she even do it?" Shen chuckled at that.
"Right now, I have a brilliant, but slightly terrifying, plan to get everyone to reveal how they died," Shen said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He pulled a journal from his pocket, claiming to have found it among their belongings. "I'll write them all down in here. You know what they say, knowledge is power. Now that we're all stuck in this room, I plan to use it to build a psychological profile of everyone and use it to my advantage."
Riley thought he looked rather intriguing at that moment. A mischievous smile crept across her face as well. Rubbing her hands together like a mischievous sidekick, she whispered to Shen, "Would you let me see your profiles so I can benefit too?"
"Of course," Shen said, rubbing his finger under his nose. "What good is a researcher without an assistant? You could be helpful to my research efforts, but only as long as you can keep it a secret."
"Of course, I can keep a secret," Riley whispered. "You can count on me."
As they both chuckled at their momentary lapse of judgment, a voice boomed from the table in front of them. "You know we can hear you guys, right?" the voice said. It was Dana.
Riley and Shen froze in horror. The voice belonged to Dana.
"You hear that, Hayazaki?" Kayode said. "They want to collect personal information on us and use it against us."
"How about we teach them a lesson?" Dana said as she lunged out of her seat, cracking her knuckles.
Suddenly, both Shen and Riley found themselves flanked on either side. "You take the girl, I'll deal with the nerd," Kayode said. Hayazaki tried to intervene, but it was too late. Dana had Riley in a painful split, and Kayode had Shen in a suffocating lock. Hayazaki almost felt sorry for them, but they looked so awkward and uncomfortable in their struggle that he couldn't hold back a laugh.
A shadow loomed behind him, engulfing Hayazaki. He turned to see Angela in a sleepy daze, muttering words he couldn't quite understand, but he did hear, "Can't a woman get some rest around here?" She was clearly annoyed, Hayazaki realized, as their noise had woken her up. He tried to warn the others, but Angela had already unleashed her fury on them.
Suddenly, Kayode, Dana, Shen, and Riley found themselves being chased by Angela's rage. Dana saw an opportunity and jumped onto the only bed in the cramped room, yelling at Angela, "Ha! You lose! It's mine now!"
"No, you don't!" Angela screamed, but they were all holding her back now. They all burst into laughter, and Hayazaki joined in.
It was moments like these that he liked to remember as he stood on the steep mountain path once traversed by the One-Eyed King, overlooking the ruins of countless battlefields. The wind, corrupted by the thick black smoke of decaying corpses, whipped his hair towards the Eastern plains as he gazed down, lost in memories.
A solitary figure, clad in red armor with three marks etched on his breastplate, approached Hayazaki. The King turned to the soldier, their eyes blackened not only by soot but by the horrors of war.
"My Lord," the soldier said, "what brings you here? The Heroes have declared a council, yet the Lady of Shadows and the Lord Weaver fight again."
The King let out a sad smile. "They always did fight," he said.
"Pardon? My Lord, I didn't hear that."
"It's nothing," the King said. "I was only remembering days that are now long bygone."
"I suppose in that aspect, my Lord, you're a lot like us," the soldier said.
"I suppose so too," the King said. "Now, let's head to the council before our heroes tear their heads off." The soldier and the King turned away from the vantage point, the entire war visible before them, and began their descent.
As the King and the soldier descended the mountain, the King paused, his gaze lingering on the vast landscape. He whispered words, wishes for the world and for someone who might one day exist in it. The soldier noticed the King's eyes searching, yearning for absolution. Then, snapping out of his reverie, the King and the soldier continued down the path, the irony of following in the footsteps of the One-Eyed King not lost on him.