It's not the pain that wakes me, nor the frantic beating of my heart, nor the sound of the nearby waves. It's the surface I'm lying on. Hard as stone. Cold as ice.
I struggle to open my eyes. I know the light will burn my retinas the moment I lift my eyelids, and I dread that instant. Yet, the discomfort is so intense that I force myself to do it. Even this simple action feels laborious—my eyelids resist as if they are numb. It takes me long seconds before I manage.
As expected, the light blinds me at first. Then, slowly, shapes become clearer—the sky is blue, and the sun is at its peak. And that's when I see it. Just below my eyes, about ten meters down, immense waves crash against the stone structure on which I'm lying. The sight of the void makes my head spin. I jolt and scramble backward in a clumsy movement, crawling instead of trying to stand.
That's when nausea hits me. My whole body is numb, every muscle refusing to respond. A crushing heaviness settles over me, and only one thought crosses my mind: Where am I?
And why am I lying on this stone surface, ten meters above sea level? A spasm shakes me. I vomit. Only bile. My stomach is empty. That's when I try to retrace the last things I did. Nothing. I don't remember anything—not where I live, not my last meal, not even my name. I remember absolutely nothing.
Panic rises as I dig desperately into my memory. I don't know what I'm looking for—an image, a place, even just a name—but nothing comes.
Little by little, I regain control of my body, and as I continue racking my brain, I sit facing the sea, my fingers clenching the ground. Why am I here?
I'm afraid to turn around and see what's behind me, as if whatever I discover will change me—be worse than anything else. I must be alone. No sound but the waves disturbs my growing anxiety. But first, I turn my head to the right. A stone wall. A narrow one, only about ten meters wide. But it rises to a dizzying height. A massive stone tower, smooth, with no entrance or windows. Nature seems to be reclaiming its place—ivy climbs the wall for dozens of meters, and weeds have taken root at its base.
Why would a tower like this be standing on a floating stone block in the middle of the sea?
I slowly get up, struggling as if I've been sedated. Step by step, I turn around—and my breath catches. My panic intensifies. More towers. Identical structures, scattered chaotically across the same concrete ground. No apparent logic to their placement.
Even though my brain screams at me to stop, I move forward, breathless, deeper into this stone complex. The sun barely reaches the ground anymore. I look up, and the towers seem endless.
My nausea lingers, but my growing curiosity pushes me further into this strange little city. Still, only the sound of the waves accompanies me. For long minutes, I walk along the walls, navigating this maze of stone.
Then, suddenly, a voice.
"Is someone there? Hello?!"
I start running toward it, ignoring my nausea and my fragile state. I shout back:
"Here! I'm here! Where are you?"
"Here! Here!"
I get closer, turning down several alleys, breath ragged, until I see her.
A woman, rather thin, her features marked by exhaustion. Her mixed-race skin glistens under a fine layer of sweat, and her long black hair, hastily tied in a ponytail, has a few loose strands sticking to her forehead. She's trembling slightly, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
When her gaze meets mine, her large brown eyes widen. A flash of emotion crosses them, and despite herself, tears spill from her dark-ringed eyes, tracing silent trails down her tense face.
"I'm not alone," she whispers, sniffing. "I'm not alone here."
I step closer, and though we don't know each other, we embrace like old friends. I ask her name, hoping she remembers.
"Who are you?"
She stares at me with wide eyes.
"I don't know. I don't remember anything. I just woke up by the sea," she inhales deeply, "several meters high."
I exhale. "Me neither."
"Why are we here?"
"I have no idea… Maybe we're not alone?"
Suddenly, a sequence of four notes, from low to high. We look at each other and, without speaking, run toward the sound. We hit several dead ends but eventually reach a square plaza at one corner of the block.
In the center of the plaza… people.
We run and shout toward them. "Hey! Hey!"
They are gathered in a small group around what looks like a small screen. The tallest one, about 1.80 meters, turns toward me, followed by a woman and two men.
His sharp yet harmonious features, fair complexion, and slightly elongated eyes suggest Asian descent—maybe Chinese. His black hair looks sculpted by the wind, styled in a mix of carelessness and precision. Shaved close on the sides, it thickens at the top, where tousled strands fall slightly forward. His appearance gives him a laid-back yet polished look, as if he hadn't really tried to fix his hair, yet it was somehow perfect. He's fairly muscular, and his gray tank top—the same one we're all wearing—hugs his broad shoulders.
"Hey, who are you?"
The woman I met and I respond in unison:
"We don't know…"
"So, you're like us…" He lowers his head, disappointed, as if he had hoped to learn something more.
"The four of us woke up in a park nearby," the woman says.
Her fiery red hair is shaved on the sides, leaving only a thin strip of jagged strands at the top of her head. A sharp, edgy cut that accentuates the strength of her features and the hardness in her piercing gaze. Her pale skin, as white as snow, is speckled with freckles. Her eyes are the same deep blue as the ocean.
I reply, intrigued, "A park? I woke up on stone, right at the water's edge…"
"So did I, but in a different spot…" adds the woman I met.
The two other men are talking among themselves, seemingly uninterested in the conversation. The tall guy suddenly suggests:
"I think we should pick names since we've all forgotten our real ones."
I nod, and without hesitation, I say, "Owen."
The woman beside me responds, "Emilia."
The redhead follows, "Lisa."
And finally, the tall one, "Jin." He turns to the other two. "Pick a name."
A short guy with curly brown hair, who doesn't look older than twenty, speaks up. "Tyler."
The last one, a man with dark skin and an afro, adds, "Kevin. And you? What did you choose?"
We each repeat our new names to them.
Suddenly, the small screen, perched on a metal pole at waist height, starts beeping. A message appears:
Daily Quest: Meet Each Other – Completed. The reward is on its way.
We all exchange glances. I repeat the words aloud as if to help me grasp their meaning.
"Quest? A quest and a reward?"
Lisa, the redhead, speaks up. "I don't know who put us here, but they don't mean well."
Our discussion is abruptly cut short by a dull noise. A few meters in front of the screen, a hatch opens, revealing three one-liter bottles of water, three carrots, six apples, and six cereal bars.
Tyler scoffs.
"Is this a joke? That's all we get to survive?!" He yells, "Hey, you assholes who locked us up here! Go to hell!"
We spend the rest of the afternoon trying to understand what's happening to us.