Carl Seisher's consciousness drifted between nothingness and awareness. His body felt weightless, his mind sluggish, as if he had been submerged in water for hours. He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep or what he had been doing before this. There were no lingering memories of yesterday, no sense of time, only the gradual return of sensation.

His fingers twitched against something solid. Cold. Smooth. Hard. He could feel it beneath his palm, the texture unfamiliar yet unnervingly sterile. His breaths came slow and shallow, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with an eerie silence. No ambient sounds, no distant hum of electricity, no wind, no voices. Just emptiness.

Carl's eyelids fluttered. The moment they cracked open, his pupils constricted against the overwhelming brightness. White. Everywhere. The floor, the ceiling, the walls. A blank void of colorless existence. He squinted, struggling to process what he was seeing. The brightness wasn't harsh, but it was unnatural—uniform, as if the walls themselves emitted light.

A deep breath. His throat felt dry. His body, though uninjured, was stiff, as though he had been lying in one position for too long. He moved his arms first, pressing his palms against the cold floor to push himself up. His joints ached slightly as he adjusted, muscles slow to cooperate.

Then, he noticed something else.

There were people.

Three figures lay scattered around him, motionless, their forms distinct against the stark white background. His pulse quickened, his mind shifting from confusion to wariness. Were they asleep? Dead? Like him, had they simply woken up here without understanding why?

His eyes landed on the person closest to him—a boy with black hair, slightly messy, with strands falling over his forehead. He was breathing, Carl noticed, his chest rising and falling steadily. His face was relaxed in sleep, but something about his features seemed sharp, almost unnervingly so. Carl hesitated before shifting his gaze to the next person.

A girl with golden blonde hair, curled lightly at the ends, lay a short distance away. Her long eyelashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks, her breathing soft. She, too, appeared unhurt.

Finally, there was the last girl. Brown hair, slightly tousled, splayed out beneath her. Her face was turned slightly to the side, her expression unreadable. The steady rhythm of her breaths was the only proof that she was alive.

Carl swallowed, his throat still uncomfortably dry. He had no idea who these people were. No recollection of how they ended up here together. A sickening feeling settled in his stomach.

Where is this?

How did I get here?

He racked his brain for answers, but nothing surfaced. It wasn't just that he couldn't remember arriving—he couldn't recall anything before this moment. His past, his home, his own reason for existing—it was all a foggy void, just as blank as the room surrounding him.

His heartbeat thudded louder in his ears.

He clenched his fists, taking another deep breath. Panicking wouldn't help. He needed to focus on what he could understand.

First: He wasn't alone.

Second: This place was unnatural.

Carl shifted his position, planting his feet firmly on the white floor. It was cold beneath him, its smooth surface eerily seamless—no tiles, no seams, no texture. He stood up slowly, steadying himself as his legs adjusted. He wasn't dizzy or weak, which was strange, considering how long he might have been unconscious.

His footsteps were eerily silent as he took a cautious step forward.

The room was large. At least, it felt large, but without any features to mark distance, it was difficult to tell. The walls stretched high above him, but there was no visible ceiling—just an endless expanse of white. The emptiness made the space feel suffocating despite its apparent vastness.

Then, something caught his eye.

A bookshelf.

It was the only object in the room aside from the four of them. Positioned a few feet away, it stood against the white backdrop like an anomaly. Carl approached it carefully, half-expecting it to disappear if he blinked. But it remained solid, real. The shelves were filled with books, their spines neatly aligned.

Books.

It was the first sign that this place wasn't completely barren.

Carl ran his fingers along the spines, feeling the smooth texture of each cover. There were no titles. No labels. Just blank covers of varying sizes and thicknesses. He hesitated before pulling one out, flipping it open.

The pages were filled with text. Small, neat, printed perfectly onto the paper. He scanned a few lines.

"There was a man who once wandered through the endless corridors, seeking the exit that did not exist."

His brow furrowed. What kind of book was this? Fiction? A story? Or… something else? He flipped through more pages, but as he did, the words seemed strange. They didn't make sense—shifting between coherent sentences and cryptic phrases.

A noise behind him.

Carl stiffened, glancing over his shoulder.

One of them was waking up.

The dark-haired boy.

Carl turned fully, watching as the boy stirred, his brows knitting together slightly before his yellow eyes slowly opened.

For a moment, those eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Then, they shifted, locking onto Carl.

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then, the boy sat up. His movements were fluid, not sluggish like Carl's had been. He rubbed his temple briefly before scanning his surroundings.

Carl hesitated before speaking.

"…Are you okay?"

The boy blinked, his gaze finally settling back on Carl. His expression remained unreadable, but there was no immediate hostility.

"I don't know," he said simply. His voice was calm, deeper than Carl expected.

Carl swallowed. "Do you remember anything?"

A brief pause. The boy's gaze sharpened slightly. "…No."

Carl exhaled slowly. At least he wasn't the only one.

Before he could say more, another sound—this time, from behind them.

The blonde girl was stirring. Her hands twitched before her blue eyes fluttered open. Unlike the dark-haired boy, her reaction was immediate—her entire body tensed, her breath catching in her throat. She sat up fast, eyes darting around in alarm.

"Where…?" Her voice was soft, but laced with unease.

Carl and the boy exchanged glances.

Carl took a careful step toward her. "Hey. It's okay. We're in the same situation. None of us know how we got here."

She turned to look at him, her blue eyes wide. A moment passed before she let out a shaky breath and nodded.

Then—another movement. The last girl.

One by one, they were waking up.

And soon, the questions would begin.

The silence stretched between them.

Four strangers, all waking up in the same impossible place. The eerie white walls surrounded them, smooth and seamless, with no visible doors or windows. No shadows, no signs of an exit. Just the vast emptiness and the lone bookshelf standing against the colorless backdrop.

Carl glanced between the others, his mind working to make sense of the situation. The dark-haired boy with yellow eyes had woken up first—calm, reserved. The blonde girl had followed—visibly unsettled but composed enough to listen. And now, the last girl, the one with brown hair, was beginning to stir.

A soft breath escaped her lips as her fingers twitched against the cold floor. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes.

Brown. Deep, warm, and filled with quiet confusion.

Carl saw the way her gaze shifted, taking in the strange surroundings, trying to process it all at once. The way her breathing hitched for just a moment before she steadied herself.

She was handling it better than he had.

"…Where am I?" Her voice was hushed, uncertain.

Carl exchanged glances with the other two before crouching slightly, making sure she could see him properly. "We don't know."

The words felt heavier than he expected. Saying them out loud made the situation feel more real.

The girl pushed herself up, her movements slow but steady. She looked around, her gaze lingering on each of them in turn. There was no panic in her expression—just quiet contemplation, as if trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

"Do you… remember anything?" Carl asked.

She hesitated. Then, finally, she shook her head. "…No."

The answer didn't surprise him. None of them seemed to remember how they got here. Not him. Not the dark-haired boy. Not the blonde girl.

The brown-haired girl exhaled softly before pressing her hand against her temple. "This doesn't make sense."

Carl couldn't argue with that. Nothing about this made sense.

The blonde girl finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady. "…We should introduce ourselves first."

Carl turned to her. She met his gaze, her expression hesitant but determined. "If we're stuck here together, we should at least know each other's names."

It was a reasonable suggestion.

Carl nodded. "I'm Carl. Carl Seisher."

The dark-haired boy studied him for a moment before replying, "Sein Wyker."

The blonde girl straightened slightly. "Elise Cartwright."

The last girl hesitated, then sighed. "Lillian Hayes."

Now they had names. But names alone wouldn't answer the questions pressing against Carl's mind.

He glanced around the room again, the vast white expanse stretching endlessly in all directions. The only object aside from them was the bookshelf—a strange, silent presence in an otherwise barren space.

There had to be something else here. Some clue.

"We should look around," Carl said. "See if there's anything useful."

Sein gave a small nod, as if he had already been considering the same thing. Elise and Lillian exchanged glances before standing up.

The four of them started their search.

Carl moved toward the bookshelf again, running his fingers along the rows of blank-covered books. There were dozens—maybe more—but none had titles, and the pages were filled with strange, fragmented writing. Some lines read like a story, others like journal entries, and some made no sense at all.

Elise picked up a book and flipped through it, frowning. "What kind of books are these?"

"I don't know," Carl admitted. "But someone put them here."

That meant someone had designed this place.

Lillian crouched, running her hand along the floor. "It's too perfect," she murmured. "No seams, no textures… it's like the entire room was made from one piece of material."

Sein walked a short distance away, his gaze scanning the space with sharp, calculating eyes. His movements were deliberate, as if analyzing every detail. "No doors. No vents. No gaps. If this is a room, it isn't built like one."

Carl frowned. The more they spoke, the stranger this place felt.

Elise set the book back on the shelf. "If there's no way out, then why are we here?"

No one had an answer.

Minutes passed as they continued searching. Carl walked along the walls, running his hand against the smooth surface, searching for anything—a button, a hidden seam, a sign that something here wasn't just a seamless void. But nothing stood out.

Lillian sighed, brushing a hand through her brown hair. "There has to be more than just this."

Then—

Thud.

A dull, hollow sound.

Everyone turned.

Sein had stopped walking. His foot was pressed against a particular section of the floor, his gaze unreadable.

"What was that?" Elise asked.

Sein slowly crouched, pressing his hand against the spot where the sound had come from. He knocked against it again.

A faint, hollow noise.

Carl moved closer. The floor was as seamless as the rest of the room, but that single spot sounded different—less solid, as if something was beneath it.

Lillian knelt beside Sein, pressing her palm flat against the surface. "…It's not the same material as the rest of the floor."

Carl's pulse quickened. "Can we open it?"

Sein narrowed his eyes before pressing his fingers along the edge, searching for a grip. For a moment, it seemed impossible—there was no clear lid, no visible opening. But then, as if responding to his touch—

Click.

A faint, mechanical shift.

And then, without warning, the section of the floor slid open.

Beneath it, a dark space was revealed—deep enough to hold something inside. And within that hidden compartment was—

"A crate?" Elise whispered.

It was wooden, simple in design, yet completely out of place in the sterile whiteness of the room. Carl stepped forward, gripping the edges before pulling it out of the compartment. It wasn't locked, nor was it particularly heavy.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Carl inhaled, steadying himself, and pried the lid open.

Inside, neatly folded, were blankets and pillows.

The sight was almost absurd in contrast to everything else. The bookshelf, the blank walls, the strange books—all of those had felt wrong, like pieces of something unnatural. But this…

Soft fabric. A human necessity. Something ordinary in an environment that was anything but.

Elise reached in first, running her fingers along one of the blankets. "It's real."

Carl exhaled. "Looks like we won't have to sleep on the floor."

It was small, but it was something.

They didn't know where they were. They didn't know why they were here. But someone had left these supplies for them.

And that meant—whoever had put them here didn't intend for them to die.

At least, not yet.

The blankets and pillows were proof that someone had left supplies for them. But if they were meant to survive here, then…

"There has to be food too," Carl said aloud.

The others looked at him.

Elise glanced back at the now-empty compartment in the floor. "You think there are more crates?"

"There has to be," Lillian agreed. "Whoever put us here wouldn't just give us blankets and nothing else."

Sein was already moving. He stepped back from the group, his sharp yellow eyes scanning the room with renewed focus. "We'll split up and check the floor again."

Without hesitation, they spread out, moving in different directions. Carl crouched low, pressing his palm against the cold surface. Now that they knew what to listen for, it was easier to notice subtle differences.

Thud.

His fingers twitched. He knocked again. The same hollow sound.

"Here," he called out.

Sein was the first to reach him. With the same method as before, he traced his fingers along the edges, feeling for an opening. A few seconds later—

Click.

The floor shifted open.

Inside was another wooden crate, nearly identical to the first.

Carl wasted no time lifting the lid.

Inside, neatly packed, were cans of food. Rows of them, stacked carefully, along with bottles of water. It was an odd assortment—canned fruit, vegetables, what looked like meat, and protein bars. Nothing fresh, but enough to last them a while.

Lillian let out a small breath of relief. "Well, at least we won't starve."

Carl picked up one of the cans, turning it in his hands. No labels, no brand names, just a simple metal container with a pull-tab.

"…Do we have a way to heat anything?" Elise asked.

Sein reached into the crate, shifting the contents. Beneath the food, there was a small, portable gas stove with a single burner. Alongside it was a lighter, a small metal pot, and some utensils.

"They thought of everything," Lillian murmured.

Or rather—whoever put them here wanted them to stay alive.

Carl set the can back down, the weight of the situation pressing down on him again. This wasn't just some random imprisonment. Someone had prepared for them to be here.

And that meant there had to be a reason.

Before he could voice that thought, a new sound cut through the silence.

A faint, static hum.

The noise made all of them freeze.

Then—

"—If you can hear this… then you're still alive."

A voice.

Deep. Steady.

The voice of a man.

The sound came from above—from everywhere, as if the walls themselves were speaking. It was an audio recording, playing through some unseen speaker system.

"I don't know who you are. But if you're listening, then that means you're trapped here—just like I was."

The four of them exchanged uneasy glances.

"My name is Erik Carter."

Carl's breath hitched. Erik Carter. That name—was it familiar? No, it wasn't. And yet, the way he said it, as if expecting them to recognize him…

The voice continued.

"You're probably wondering what this place is. I don't have all the answers. But I know one thing—you can't stay here forever."

The static crackled for a moment before he spoke again.

"There is a way out. I found it once. But this place… it's a cycle. You escape one room, only to find yourself in another. And another. And another. It doesn't end. At least—not in the way you think."

Elise swallowed hard. "What does that mean?"

Carl had no answer.

"Listen carefully," Erik's voice said, "because this is important. You are not alone. There are others. Groups like yours. All trying to escape. But this is a race. And only the ones who make it to the end first will matter."

A race.

Carl felt his stomach tighten.

"I don't know what's waiting beyond the final door. But I know one thing—the ones who escape will have power. And everyone else…? They won't matter anymore."

A long pause.

Then, his voice shifted, lowering slightly.

"The world outside…" A breath. A tired, heavy breath. "It's not the world you remember. It's war. Explosions. Gunfire in the streets. There's no safety out there—only survival. You might think escaping this place will bring you freedom, but all you'll find is more blood."

Lillian's hands clenched into fists.

"And yet—you have to keep going."

The static buzzed softly before his final words came through.

"Find the exit. Find the truth. Because if you don't… someone else will."

Then—silence.

The recording ended, leaving only the sound of their own breathing.

Carl exhaled, slow and steady, but his mind was spinning.

A race. Other groups. The outside world filled with war.

Elise was staring at the ceiling as if waiting for the voice to return. "That's it? That's all he said?"

Lillian shook her head. "No. He said enough."

Sein sat down, arms resting on his knees. His expression was unreadable, but Carl could tell he was deep in thought.

They all were.

Carl replayed Erik's words in his mind. The message had been brief—but intentional. A warning. A challenge. A clue.

And one thing was clear.

They had to escape.

Because somewhere out there, other groups were doing the same.

And if what Erik said was true…

Only one group would make it to the end.