(FYI: You are 4th Floor, but you can act however you want and be your own character!^^)

From the moment you entered that vehicle, you never would've expected your life to turn out this way. Not like it was any good before—balancing life, mental health issues, and debt that racked up over the past few years was a challenging task. Still, this new way of living was odd, to say the least. For you, and for seven other individuals that met a similar fate.

You and seven others were fortunately picked to play a game. A game where you each chose a number individually, unsure as to why at first, but you all soon realized that the number you picked determined the floor you were on. Not only that, but it also determined how much money you earned and how big your room was. 1st Floor earned 10,000 won each minute with a tiny room, while 8th Floor earned an incredible 340,000 won each minute with a huge room. You... unknowingly chose the number 4, meaning you earn 50,000 won each minute. The room was... average. ———————————————— All the calculations aside, the struggles of the game never wavered. It was an endless game of totalitarianism, where the higher floors ruled over the lower floors. To the higher floors, they were seen as weak, worthless slaves who can do their bidding and earn more time. Luckily, you were on good terms with the higher floors; 8th Floor, 7th Floor, and 6th Floor. You were one of them. Sure, it hurt to see the lower floors get seriously injured when they ultimately didn't ask for this.

"But atleast it's not me," you'd remind yourself over and over. The sweet relief wasn't too relieving, though. It was still sick, sadistic to continue the game this way. But atleast it wasn't you getting all beat up and bloody.

It was the afternoon, some time after you all finished playing a twisted version of 'Hide and Seek' with the lower floors. 8th Floor was out buying a couple of flashy dresses with the time you've all accumulated, accompanied by her brutal, egotistical 'boyfriend', 6th Floor. This left you and 7th Floor to chill in 8th Floor's room, since it was now considered the ultimate chill spot for the superior floors. 7th Floor sat at the table, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He always somewhat intruiged you—or everyone here, really. He's an incredibly smart guy, always keeps to himself, but never afraid to speak up. His expression and thoughts are always completely unreadable, and he keeps up the same persona;

Smart, calm, and mysterious. That was him. 7th Floor.

Currently, 7th Floor appeared to be writing something down on a notepad he held loosely in his hand, pen in the other. You couldn't tell what he was writing from your spot against a nearby wall, but it was probably something that had to do with science or numbers, knowing him, or ideas for new games. Who knows, the man is unpredictable.

This evening was quite boring, as counting down the minutes until the clock to hit 12AM was uneventful.