With one final strike, the head came loose and dropped to the floor with a wet, heavy thud.

  The room went dead silent. Zhayne’s breath hitched as he stepped in front of the others, shielding them instinctively.

  Saymon stood above the mess, breathing hard, his face half-lit by the spotlight and speckled with blood.

  Then, slowly, he turned toward them , a wide, chilling smile spreading across his blood-streaked face

  “So,” he said, voice calm and disturbingly steady, “what’s the next step?”

  Zhayne stepped closer to the stage, moving as if in a trance. His lips were parted, trembling slightly, and sweat slid slowly down the side of his forehead. He looked like he was about to speak, his mouth opening just a little as if searching for words— until a sudden, heavy thud cracked through the room.

  He froze.

  Then he whipped around.

  Clara was on the floor. She hadn’t tripped—she had collapsed. Her face was blotchy red from crying, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her mouth hung wide open in silent shock, hands scrambling on the ground behind her as she tried to push herself away.

  Away from Jayson.

  He was approaching her with slow, dragging steps, his head tilted slightly to the side, eyes unfocused. His whole posture felt wrong.

  Leon’s voice cracked through the air, sharp with worry.

  “jayson”?

  Still no reply. Jayson didn’t even blink.

  Leon rushed to him, grabbing onto his arms, shaking him lightly. “jayson”? he repeated, louder this time.

  Jayson turned his head toward him—slowly, unnervingly slow—like his neck was resisting the movement. His crimson eyes stared right into Leon’s, unfocused yet burning, tears clinging at the edges. His jaw trembled.

  Then, without warning, he lunged.

  Leon was slammed onto the floor, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs. Jayson climbed on top of him, pinning him down with surprising strength.

  His crimson-red eyes were shaking with tears, but the rest of his face twisted into something monstrous—mouth stretched halfway open, jaw trembling like he couldn’t control it.

  Leon struggled under him, his hands pushing against Jayson’s chest with all the strength he had. His face turned red from the effort.

  “stop ,this isnt funny ” he said, his voice strained, almost breaking.

  Jayson didn’t react. He leaned down, teeth bared, his breath hot and uneven against Leon’s cheek. His jaw opened wider, dragging itself into a bite.

  Leon shut his eyes tightly—

  THUD!

  A sharp, loud crack filled the room.

  Everything stopped.

  Leon opened his eyes slowly, vision blurry from panic. Jayson was no longer on top of him; his body lay beside him, sprawled on the cold floor and completely still.

  Victoria stood in front of him, her stance was firm, shoulders tense, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. In her hand, she held a wooden bat. She looked down at Jayson with a cold, unreadable expression before lifting her eyes toward Leon.

  After that, the yellow watch in the middle of the stage rang. The red curtains shook, and a metallic ding-dong echoed through the room. With a flash of red light, words appeared:

  NO SHOW TODAY

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Zhayne stared at it—then suddenly the world went pitch-black in front of him.

  When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. As it slowly focused, he realized he was on the floor, his back resting weakly against one of the beds. His wrists were tied tightly to the metal knuckles of the bed frame. The window above showed a night view, and a dim, sickly white light glowed overhead.

  He tried pulling his arms free, but the metal didn’t budge. He barely had any strength.

  Across from him, Jayson lay unconscious on the other bed, head resting on his knuckles. The walls were painted a dark red, the two beds pushed apart, and a desk stood below the window.

  Zhayne struggled again. Nothing.

  Footsteps sounded outside.

  The door creaked open slowly. Through the small gap, two unusually wide pupils stared in—dark, glossy, stretched just a bit too large, like they were drinking in the light.

  Then the door opened fully.

  It was Victoria.

  She held a green chair, dragging it along the floor. Zhayne glared at her—he knew from the start something was wrong.

  He kept his eyes on her, then blurted out, “Why am I here?”

  “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” she said, smiling so wide her eyes narrowed into thin, sharp slits, yet her pupils stayed large and unnaturally dark, almost predatory.

  Zhayne looked past her and spotted something behind her.

  “Your friends won’t come,” she added casually.

  Then she noticed where his eyes had drifted.

  She followed his gaze, saw him staring at the bat, and her smile sharpened.

  “Oh… don’t worry.” She slowly pulled the bat out from behind her. It was studded with nails now.

  “I won’t use it unless…” Her grin froze into something stiff and terrifying.

  “…you misbehave.”

  Ron stepped in behind her, Clara beside him. Clara’s entire body trembled, she hid behind Ron, refusing to look at Jayson.

  Ron’s eyes flicked to Jayson. “How is he?”

  “He hasn’t shown any signs yet,” Victoria said. She slid the bat behind her again so Clara wouldn’t see it. “But that doesn’t mean he’s fine. Let him finish his 24 hours.”

  Ron gave Zhayne a quick glance, then looked away as if pretending he hadn’t. He left the room

  Victoria noticed Zhayne glancing at the desk. She called Clara over to watch him briefly, then placed the key on the desk.

  “Finally…” Zhayne breathed out in relief. He looked at Clara. “Help me, before they come back,” he whispered, gesturing with his tied arms toward the key.

  Clara stepped forward hesitantly. She picked up the key, crouched, and reached toward his cuffs—then abruptly stepped back.

  “What are you doing?” Zhayne muttered, eyebrows pulling together.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry—I really am,” Clara whispered, her expression tight with fear. She placed the key back with shaking hands and moved toward the door.

  “Did you forget what happened to your hand?” Zhayne snapped, loud and angry.

  Clara froze, hand on the knob, not looking back.

  “I didn’t forget…” she said quietly. “Your friend will be fine. Someone used a card—I don’t know who. But he has two left. Take care.”

  She stepped out and slammed the door shut, locking it with a harsh thud.

  “Wait—” Zhayne called out, but there was no reply.

  He looked around until he heard a yawn.

  It was Jayson.

  He woke up like nothing had happened. He stared at the handcuffs on his wrists, then suddenly began shaking them wildly.

  “Hey—someone! Help! Help me, please!” he shouted, voice frantic.

  Then he noticed Zhayne staring at him.

  “Oh.” Jayson sat up, smiled, and looked around. “Is this a new puzzle?” he asked innocently.

  “What?” Zhayne tilted his head in confusion.

  Jayson copied the movement and tilted his head too.

  “You… don’t remember anything?”

  “Remember what?” Jayson scratched the back of his head.

  “Wait! I do remember!”

  He brightened suddenly.

  “I remember tasting someone. Awful. It was so bad.”

  Zhayne glared at him, then quickly looked toward the door. Footsteps.

  “Jayson!”

  “Yes?”

  “Act like you’re still unconscious.”

  Jayson frowned. “What? Why—”

  But the second the door handle turned, he immediately dropped back and pretended to be knocked out cold.

  The door slammed open aggressively.

  Victoria rushed in, heading straight toward the desk. Her movements were fast and shaky, her breath uneven. Her face looked… unsteady. Nervous.

  It was the first time Zhayne had ever seen her like that.

  He tugged at the cuffs, but they didn’t move.

  Victoria ripped open drawers, flipping through papers with trembling fingers. She pulled out a note, glanced at it, then yanked another paper from her pocket, comparing them.

  “No… no… no—no. That can’t be true…” she muttered to herself, panic rising.

  Then she ran out.

  Leon stepped inside right after.

  Zhayne’s eyes lit up instantly. “Leo—”

  But the light in his eyes faded when Leon sat on the green chair, looking at him with an expression that wasn’t friendly. Not angry, exactly — but tense.

  Zhayne frowned. “Are you mad because of last time—”

  Leon cut him off.

  “No. No.”

  He reached into his pocket.

  “I came here to give you this.” His voice dropped a little.

  He held out the orbs — the same black orbs they saw before.

  “After that accident, I checked the clown’s body. I found these in his pockets,” Leon said quietly. “I also checked everyone else’s pockets. We all have different numbers of them. I don’t even know how they got there… but I think the reason you’re here is this.”

  Leon leaned forward and pulled at Zhayne’s pockets.

  Black orbs spilled out , dozens of them , dripping to the floor like a waterfall.

  “I heard Victoria talking with Ron,” Leon continued. “They said they had one day left. I think they’re talking about this domain… and about you. I don’t think they’re planning to let you live.”

  He was speaking faster with every sentence, panic breaking through his voice.

  Leon looked at Zhayne, then placed the black orbs into his hands.

  “It’s up to you now.”

  He grabbed the keys and unlocked Zhayne’s cuffs.

  As Leon stood and turned toward the door, Zhayne called out.

  “Wait.”

  Leon stopped in the middle of the room and turned around.

  “I think I have a clue,” Zhayne said.

  An idea sparked in his mind — risky, stupid, but maybe their only chance. His dream… the one where every time he was in danger, something happened.

  He grabbed the key and pushed it toward Leon.

  “Stab me with it.”

  “What?” Leon blinked, horrified.

  “Just do it,” Zhayne insisted.

  Leon took the key slowly, stepping closer — then his hand began shaking. Sweat collected on his forehead. The key slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

  “I… I can’t.”

  Before Zhayne could reply, he heard a sound from outside.

  Victoria.

  Instinct kicked in — he shoved Leon aside and bolted out of the room.

  He ran into the hallway–

  Looked back—

  And saw her.

  Victoria was right behind him, Ron beside her, her bat in hand , the one filled with nails.

  Zhayne’s heartbeat spiked. Panic assaulted him, but he forced himself to breathe.

  He told himself it was just a game.

  Just a game.

  He didn’t stop running until the bat slammed into the wall inches from his head.

  He didn’t stop running , but he wasn’t fast enough.

  The bat — the one covered in nails — swung through the air with a sharp whistle.

  This time, it didn’t hit the wall.

  It hit him directly in the side of the head.

  Pain exploded through his skull. A sickening, metallic crack echoed in his ears. For a split second, he felt nothing — then a wave of dizziness crashed over him, and his knees buckled.

  The hallway tilted sideways.

  The last thing he saw was Victoria’s silhouette standing over him, her grip tight around the bat, her pupils blown wide in the dim light.

  Then everything went black.