The first thing Chuuya noticed was the silence.

No city noise. No distant chatter. Just an eerie, suffocating stillness. Then—cold. The floor beneath him was hard, smooth concrete, and when he opened his eyes, dim white light flickered from a single bulb overhead.

He wasn’t alone.

“Chuuya~! I knew you couldn’t resist waking up next to me.”

Chuuya turned sharply. Dazai was sprawled beside him on the floor, smirking like this was all some elaborate joke. Chuuya’s head throbbed. He didn’t remember how they got here, only that they were here.

The room was small and bare—just a single bed, a mirror bolted to the wall, and a faucet with no visible drain. But what sent unease curling in his gut was the massive hole in the center of the floor. It stretched nearly the width of the room, exposing levels above and below, where others sat in identical rooms.

Before he could speak, a monotone voice echoed from nowhere.

“Welcome, participants. You have been selected for the Survival Descent. Each floor houses two players. Each month, you will move to a new floor. The lower your floor, the less food you receive.”

Chuuya stiffened. A groan of metal sounded above. His gaze snapped to the ceiling, where a massive platform, stacked with food, began to descend through the hole. It stopped briefly at each level.

“You have one minute to eat whatever remains. Do not attempt to climb. Do not attempt to leave. The game ends when only two remain.”

The platform stopped in front of them. Half-eaten scraps, crumbs, and barely a handful of untouched food remained.

Dazai let out a low whistle. “Well, this is bleak.”

Chuuya clenched his fists. His stomach was already twisting with hunger, but that was the least of his concerns.

How the hell were they going to survive this?