Participant 567 was escorted up the same stairs Clara had taken earlier. The journey was a blur for her, her mind spinning with disbelief and relief. As soon as she entered the second floor, she was directed toward Elaine.

When their eyes met, the girl’s emotions overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down her face as she rushed forward, throwing her arms around Elaine in an unrestrained hug.

“Thank you… Thank you…” she repeated over and over, her voice choked with sobs. Her body trembled, every ounce of fear and relief pouring out in those two words.

Elaine’s voice was as soothing as ever, her tone a perfect blend of gentleness and authority. “Were you afraid, Jenn?” she asked, her words wrapping around the girl like a warm blanket.

Jenn froze for a moment, her teary eyes widening. “How did you know my na—” she began, but Elaine silenced her with a single motion, pressing a finger softly to her lips.

“It’s alright now. Everything is fine. You have me, and I have you,” Elaine said, her voice imbued with a kind of maternal reassurance. To Jenn, Elaine wasn’t just her savior. She was the embodiment of everything Jenn had ever wished for in a protector, a guiding light in her darkest moment. Elaine’s presence felt almost magical, like a princess stepping out of a fairytale.

“Mhm… thank you…” Jenn whispered, her voice barely audible. It carried the weight of someone who had faced death and emerged into the light. To her, this wasn’t just survival. It was salvation. Hope radiated through her entire being, replacing the fear and hopelessness that had consumed her.

Jenn had been saved.

Participant 567, Jenn, was a 16-year-old high school student. Timid and introverted, she was transported to this nightmarish place alongside her boyfriend. But even before her arrival, Jenn’s mental state was fragile, teetering on the edge of collapse. Her life had been a series of endless torment—bullied relentlessly at school because she never fought back, scorned by parents who saw her as a disappointment, and trapped in a toxic relationship with a boy who preyed on her vulnerability.

Her boyfriend had manipulated her from the start, orchestrating her bullying so he could swoop in and play the hero. Jenn knew the truth but couldn’t defy him. The relationship became a brutal cycle of physical and emotional abuse, with her boyfriend venting his anger and frustrations on her fragile body. Beneath her clothes were scars—painful reminders of her suffering, both old and fresh. Each mark told a story of survival, though it was a survival that Jenn had long ceased to cherish.

When the games began, Jenn and her boyfriend played together, but their partnership ended as predictably as their relationship had functioned: in betrayal. Jenn had two coins, while her boyfriend had none. Out of a misguided sense of loyalty and generosity, she offered to secretly pass him one of her coins so they could each have a chance to play. She didn’t have to. She could have walked away, leaving him to his fate. But Jenn’s kind heart wouldn’t let her abandon someone—even someone who had caused her so much pain.

The plan was to find a secluded area where they could exchange the coin without anyone noticing. They didn’t realize that trading coins was entirely legal and wouldn’t cause any issues. But when they reached a quiet spot, Jenn’s boyfriend revealed his true colors. He snatched her coins, his face twisting into a mask of desperation and anger.

“I have to live!” he shouted, striking Jenn with brutal force.

Jenn crumpled to the ground, her body too weak and broken to resist. She watched him run, bloodied and beaten, unable to do anything but sit there. Physically, he was stronger and faster. Fighting back was never an option for her, and chasing him would only have ended in more pain. So she stayed, trembling and numb, thinking that perhaps she was finally free from his abuse.

To Jenn, death no longer seemed frightening. It felt almost welcoming, a release from the endless cruelty she had endured. But as she sat there, waiting for the inevitable, her fragile peace was shattered. A riot broke out, the violence exploding around her like a storm.

In the chaos, Jenn saw her boyfriend again. She watched in horror as a man—a towering, feral figure—smashed his head with his bare hands. Blood sprayed everywhere, and her boyfriend’s screams were cut short. Jenn thought she was ready for death, but the sight of such a brutal, senseless killing terrified her to her core. Her body froze, paralyzed by fear, as tears streamed down her face. Despite everything he had done to her, she couldn’t bear to watch him die. Her kind heart wouldn’t let her.

“DO YOU HAVE COINS, BITCH?”

The shout pierced the air, loud and filled with venom. It came from a violent-looking man, his eyes wild and full of murderous intent.

“EEEK!” Jenn squealed, her entire body trembling. The sheer sound of his voice sent her into a panic. Her legs gave out, and she began crawling away, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. Her bladder betrayed her for a brief moment, a small wet patch forming as her fear reached its peak.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?” the man bellowed, charging toward her.

Jenn turned her head, seeing him close the distance with terrifying speed. Her body acted on pure instinct, adrenaline flooding her system. Her brain calculated the best chance of survival: the playroom. The executive’s rule echoed faintly in her mind: no violence was allowed inside the playroom. Somehow, despite her panic, her survival instincts kicked in, and she sprinted toward the room.

She barely made it, slamming the door shut behind her. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her entire body shaking. But the man wasn’t deterred. He kicked the door open and stormed inside, grabbing her by the ponytail and yanking her off the ground.

“You fucking bitch! Running away like the stupid bitch you are, huh?!” he snarled, raising his fist to strike her.

“AHHHHH!” Jenn screamed, her voice raw with terror. She closed her eyes tightly, bracing for the blow.

BANG.

The sound of gunfire rang out, deafening in the confined space. Three shots in perfect unity and coordination by the three different administrators. One bullet pierced the man’s brain, another his heart, and the last shattered his wrist joint, all of which fired at the same time. His grip on Jenn’s hair loosened as he crumpled to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.

Jenn opened her eyes and screamed again at the sight before her. Blood pooled around her, splattered across the walls and floor. The man’s lifeless body lay sprawled beside her, his blood staining her clothes. Her breathing was ragged, her chest tight with panic.

The administrator who fired the shots holstered their revolver and stood still without a word. Jenn, trembling and covered in blood, remained in the playroom. She didn’t leave again, not even when the timer reached zero. For the remainder of the game, she stayed holed up in that room, her fragile mind unable to process the horror outside.

Back in the present, Elaine guided Jenn toward Clara and Claude. Clara was seated at a table, eating a steaming bowl of soup-based noodles, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted the spoon.

“How did you know this was my favorite?” Clara asked innocently, her voice soft and filled with genuine surprise.

“Just eat. You need to recover your strength. We can talk later,” Claude replied, his tone steady. He vividly recalled telling the waiter, “Bring whatever you think is best; she needs some food.” The fact that Clara didn’t even hear him place the order—despite sitting right next to him—caught Claude off guard. It was a testament to just how overwhelmed and drained she was after the emotional roller coaster of the past five hours.

What truly puzzled Claude, however, was the eerie accuracy of the dish. The people running this twisted game seemed to know Clara’s preferences. He couldn’t help but wonder: “Do they know everything about us? Every single detail? Do they know me too?” His thoughts spiraled as he considered the lengths someone must have gone to gather such thorough profiles, select their participants, and bring them here.

Elaine’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Got myself a very cute daughter, don’t you think?” she said with a playful lilt, the rhetorical nature of her question apparent in her teasing smile.

Jenn’s cheeks flushed as the words sunk in. Her heart swelled with warmth at being acknowledged so openly. Silently, she felt elated to be called Elaine’s daughter, a title that made her feel wanted and cared for.

Claude’s gaze shifted toward Elaine, his expression darkening. He stared at her as though she were the most diabolical, evil existence in the universe. Elaine, as always, met his glare with her usual air of unbothered amusement.