Carl Seisher woke up to silence. A deep, unnatural silence that felt like the world itself had forgotten how to breathe.
His head was light, almost weightless, and his body felt strangely numb—not in pain, not tired, just... empty. For a moment, he lay still, his vision unfocused, staring at a ceiling so white it almost hurt his eyes.
As he shifted, his fingers brushed against the smooth, polished floor beneath him. It was cold, colder than it should have been. He blinked slowly, his thoughts sluggish, as if he had been pulled out of a deep, dreamless sleep.
Where am I?
The thought drifted through his mind, quiet but urgent. He tried to remember what he had been doing before this—before waking up in this empty place—but all he got was static. Fragments of memory flashed through his mind. A street. Headlights. A sharp noise.
Then, nothing.
Carl inhaled sharply and sat up. That's when he noticed the room.
It was vast, stretching out endlessly in every direction, yet it had walls—smooth, pale walls that seemed to curve unnaturally, with no seams, no doors, no windows. Just an endless expanse of white.
The only color in the room came from the people.
Carl wasn't alone. Scattered throughout the room were others—some standing, some sitting on the cold floor like he had been. They were spaced apart, isolated, all wearing the same dazed expression he imagined was on his own face. No one spoke. No one moved.
Carl swallowed. His heart should've been racing, but it wasn't. That was the strangest thing of all—his body wasn't responding the way it should. No shivering, no dizziness, no pounding heartbeat. He lifted his hands, staring at them. His skin was still there, still solid, but something felt... different.
He ran a hand through his black hair, feeling its familiar strands between his fingers. His eyes darted downward, catching his own reflection in the polished floor.
His blue eyes looked the same. His face looked the same. But was he?
Something was wrong.
Carl pushed himself up to his feet, ignoring the way his legs didn't quite feel like his own. The silence was deafening, pressing down on him like an unseen weight.
Then, something moved.
A small flutter of motion near his feet.
Carl looked down and saw a single file lying on the floor.
A thick, manila folder, its edges crisp, untouched.
It hadn't been there before.
And yet... it was.
His breath hitched. Then, as if the world itself was shifting around him, more files appeared. Five more. They landed with the softest of sounds, barely a whisper against the silent floor.
Carl hesitated. The room hadn't changed, the other people hadn't moved. But something had shifted. He could feel it.
And it all started with the files.
Carl hesitated.
The files weren't there before. He was sure of it. He had scanned the floor when he first stood up, his eyes adjusting to the overwhelming whiteness of the room. There had been nothing. No papers, no objects, just the smooth, reflective surface beneath him.
And yet, now they were here.
A small stack, scattered neatly. As if someone had carefully placed them there.
Carl's fingers twitched at his side. He glanced around, searching for a sign that someone else had noticed, but the other people in the room remained distant, lost in their own confusion. No one moved toward the files. No one even looked at them.
Slowly, Carl crouched down.
The folder closest to him was ordinary—stiff, thick paper, a slightly rough texture beneath his fingertips. No markings on the outside, no labels to hint at its contents. He hesitated for a moment, then flipped it open.
His breath caught in his throat.
There, in plain, crisp lettering, was a name.
Sein Wyker
Cause of Death: Unknown
Status: Awaiting Processing
Carl stared. His mind barely processed the words before his hands moved on their own, flipping through the next one.
Ryan Calloway
Cause of Death: Unknown
Status: Awaiting Processing
Another.
Ardyn Sullivan
Cause of Death: Unknown
Status: Awaiting Processing
Carl swallowed hard. The air around him felt heavier now, pressing against his chest. He flipped through another.
Myla Veydrin
Cause of Death: Unknown
Status: Awaiting Processing
The final folder trembled slightly in his grip.
His own name stared back at him.
Carl Seisher
Cause of Death: Unknown
Status: Awaiting Processing
Carl's body locked up. A chill ran down his spine, even though the room wasn't cold.
This had to be some kind of mistake. A sick joke.
He wasn't dead.
Was he?
His fingers tightened around the folder, knuckles whitening. His mind fought against the reality in front of him. The words were clear, undeniable. Cause of Death: Unknown.
A sharp inhale broke the silence.
Carl's head snapped up.
Someone else had noticed.
A girl stood a few feet away, staring directly at him. She was shorter than him, with brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, deep brown eyes shadowed with confusion. Her gaze flickered between Carl and the files, her lips slightly parted like she wanted to say something but wasn't sure how.
She had seen them too.
Carl swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke the first words he could manage.
"…You see this, right?"
The girl didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took a slow, cautious step forward, then another. Her eyes locked onto the folder in his hands.
Finally, she spoke.
"What is that?" Her voice was quiet, careful.
Carl turned the file toward her, just enough for her to see.
Her brows furrowed. She leaned in slightly, reading the page, and then—
She froze.
Her breath hitched. For a moment, she didn't move at all.
Then, her hand darted downward, grabbing one of the remaining files.
She flipped it open.
Her own name was inside.
Carl saw the color drain from her face.
"…What the hell is this?" she whispered.
Carl didn't have an answer. He wasn't sure there was one.
The girl's fingers clenched around the file, her knuckles turning white.
Then, movement.
Another presence.
A boy with black hair and striking yellow eyes approached, his steps slow, deliberate. Unlike the others in the room—who remained distant, trapped in their own daze—he moved with purpose, his sharp gaze flickering from Carl to the girl to the files in their hands.
"…You guys found something," he said.
His voice was calm, almost too calm.
Carl didn't respond immediately. He just held up the files slightly, showing them without a word.
The boy's golden eyes darkened.
After a long moment, he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, that's messed up."
Carl finally spoke. "…Who are you?"
The boy clicked his tongue, like the question mildly annoyed him, but he answered anyway.
"Sein Wyker." His eyes flickered toward the first file Carl had read. "And I'm guessing my name's in there somewhere."
Carl nodded, then handed over Sein's file. Sein took it with little hesitation, scanning the page with an unreadable expression.
He barely reacted.
Carl watched him closely, trying to gauge his thoughts. Unlike Carl and the girl, Sein didn't look shaken. He didn't look scared. If anything… he looked annoyed.
The girl, on the other hand, still hadn't spoken again. She was staring at her file like she was trying to force the words to change.
Carl finally turned back to her. "…What's your name?"
She looked up, hesitated, then answered.
"Myla," she said quietly. "Myla Veydrin."
Carl glanced down. Her name was indeed in the files.
The pieces were falling into place.
Six names. Six files. Six people "awaiting processing."
Carl clenched his fists.
He didn't know what this place was, or why they were here.
But one thing was becoming painfully clear.
They weren't alive anymore.
And if they didn't do something…
They might never leave.
The silence between them stretched.
Carl's grip on his file tightened. His mind was still fighting against the truth written on the pages in front of him, but every second that passed made it harder to deny. Myla was pale, her brown eyes darting across the words as if searching for a loophole, an escape.
Sein, on the other hand, just sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"So," he muttered, flipping his file shut, "we're dead."
Myla flinched at the words, her body tensing. Carl swallowed hard.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "I think we are."
Sein let out a slow breath through his nose. His yellow eyes scanned the massive, white room again. "So, what now?"
Carl didn't know. What now? There were no doors, no windows, nothing that even hinted at a way out. The other people in the room hadn't moved. Were they dead too? Were they waiting for something?
Myla spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can't just… stay here."
Carl nodded. The thought of standing in this empty room forever made something in his chest tighten.
Then, movement.
Carl turned his head just in time to see two more people approaching.
The first was a boy with sharp red hair, his steps unhurried, his expression unreadable. His deep red eyes flicked toward them, taking in the scene with quiet curiosity.
Beside him walked another boy, slightly taller, with blonde hair and piercing yellow eyes. His gaze was sharp, calculating.
Carl recognized the names before they even introduced themselves.
Ryan Calloway.
Ardyn Sullivan.
Ryan reached them first, stopping a few feet away. His red eyes landed on the files in their hands.
"…Found something?" His voice was calm, almost too casual.
Sein clicked his tongue. "Yeah. It's official. We're dead."
Ryan's expression didn't change. He stepped closer, grabbing one of the remaining files off the floor. His own name stared back at him.
He read it in silence. Then, after a long pause—
"…Weird."
That was all he said.
Carl watched him closely. Ryan wasn't reacting the way he expected. No panic. No fear. Just quiet acceptance.
Ardyn, however, was different. He snatched up his own file with quick, precise movements. His yellow eyes scanned the page, his grip tightening around the folder. Unlike Ryan, there was tension in his posture—a subtle stiffness, like he was holding something back.
Carl waited for him to say something. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, controlled.
"This place," Ardyn said slowly, "isn't normal."
Carl almost laughed. Of course, it's not normal. But the way Ardyn said it—like he was dissecting the situation, already analyzing their next move—made Carl pay attention.
Ardyn's eyes flicked upward, scanning the ceiling, then the walls. "No doors. No exits." He looked down at the files again. "And these… are way too organized."
Carl frowned. "…What do you mean?"
Ardyn turned the folder in his hands. "Look at the details. Our names. Our deaths. 'Awaiting Processing.'" His jaw tightened. "Someone put these here for us."
Carl's stomach twisted. He hadn't thought about that. The files hadn't just appeared randomly. Someone wanted them to see them.
Before he could dwell on that thought, another voice cut through the conversation.
"…Hey."
Carl turned toward the sound.
A blonde-haired girl stood a few feet away, gripping the last remaining file. She had sharp blue eyes, her expression unreadable as she flipped it open. She was silent for a long moment before letting out a slow breath.
"Elise Cartwright," she muttered, like she was confirming it for herself. Then, she shut the file with a quiet snap and looked up at them. "Mind explaining what the hell is going on?"
Sein scoffed. "We're all dead. Welcome to the club."
Elise gave him a sharp look but didn't argue. She just folded her arms. "And? What happens next?"
Carl exhaled, rubbing his temple. **That's the question, isn't it?**
They had six people. Six files. Six deaths.
And no idea where they were.
"…We need to figure out what this place is," Carl finally said. "And we need to find a way out."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You think there's a way out?"
Carl hesitated. There has to be. The thought of just sitting here, waiting for whatever "processing" meant, sent a shiver down his spine.
He looked around again. No doors. No windows.** But that didn't mean there wasn't something.
Something they weren't seeing.
He glanced at the others. They were all standing now, no longer just distant figures in the room. They weren't like the others who remained frozen, lost in their own confusion.
They had noticed.
They had acted.
That had to mean something.
Carl's blue eyes settled on the group—the five people who, moments ago, had been strangers.
Now, they were standing together.
It wasn't much.
But it was a start.