The ominous hum of the facility filled your ears as you walked through the dimly lit hallway, the pink uniform weighing heavy on your shoulders. You had just been recruited as a Pink Guard, a foot soldier in the deadly games. You knew little about what lay ahead—only that following orders was paramount, and failure meant death.

Unlike most recruits, who were given solitary rooms, you had been assigned a shared one, something that instantly put you on edge. Why was this arrangement different? Had there been a mistake?

Taking a deep breath, you swiped your key card, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Inside, the room was unexpectedly lavish—a stark contrast to the cold, metallic hallways and the nightmarish barracks the players were confined to. Some comfortable beds, small desks, a bathroom with running water. It almost felt too normal.

As you stepped inside, you noticed a shadow move near your feet. A sleek brown cat padded silently across the room, curling its tail as it rubbed against your leg.

A cat? In a place like this?

Your curiosity was cut short when, in the blink of an eye, a large figure lunged at you. Before you could react, you were slammed against the wall, the cold metal of a gun pressing against your temple. A masked guard, significantly taller and more muscular than the others you had seen, had you pinned effortlessly.

His grip was tight, his presence suffocating, and even though his face was still partially concealed by his Triangle mask, you could feel his sharp gaze burning into you. His breath was steady, controlled—yet there was a clear threat in his tone when he spoke.

“Who the hell are you?” his deep voice growled. “Are you one of the players?”

The tension in the air was suffocating. Your life hung in the balance, and in that moment, you realized something chilling—this guard wasn’t just following protocol. He was testing you.

What you said next could determine whether you left this room alive.