I crept toward the bathroom. "Quinn, are you in there?"
I tried calling out. No answer.
The water kept running.
I gripped the handle and pushed down.
A click—the bathroom door wasn't locked.
I pushed the door open, slowly.
The water had been running for who knows how long. Steam hung thick, condensing into rivulets on the walls.
The shower curtain was translucent, backlit—a dark silhouette stood behind it.
Sitting in the bathtub.
Motionless.
I stepped forward, grabbed the curtain, and yanked it aside.
Inside the bathtub sat a woman's corpse, draped in black plastic bags!
The body was pale and bluish. Both eyes were closed.
Her long black hair was gathered into two pigtails by shampoo suds, flopping limply on either side of her face.
The woman's appearance and pose were identical to the photo in Quinn's phone.
I was staring at the corpse when the bathroom light suddenly went out. Total darkness.
"Holy shit."
The sudden blackout nearly scared me out of my wits.
In the darkness, I could still see the afterimage of the corpse's outline.
No matter how many times I blinked, it wouldn't fade. My skin crawled.
It felt like the ghost of the dead woman had set her sights on me.
I couldn't stay in that bathroom. I backed toward the door.
Just then, the broadcast crackled to life. "Lights out. All students must go to bed immediately. Report to the athletic field at 7 AM sharp for morning exercises. Do not be late."
So the countdown had ended.
I'd barely exhaled when my back bumped into something warm.
I jumped again.
I hadn't closed the bathroom door when I came in—so where did this wall come from?
I reached behind me. It wasn't a wall—it was a person standing right behind me.
I looked up.
Pale light illuminated a strange face from below.
"Ghost—!"
I tried to scream, but a hand clamped over my mouth.
Quinn's voice came from the dark. "It's me. Don't yell—there are patrol robots outside. If they hear us, we're done."
I wanted to curse him out. I yanked his hand away and hissed, "Are you insane? Where did you come from?"
Quinn whispered, "I went out for a bit. What about you—sneaking around here?"
Furious, I pointed at the corpse in the bathtub. "I'm sneaking around? I want to ask you—what's with this body?"
Quinn, by contrast, was perfectly calm. "Oh. She was my teammate. She died helping me complete my mission."
I stared at him. "You killed her?"
"Yeah." Quinn pulled out his task card and lit it with his phone.
The card showed a pirated oil painting—specifically, "Woman in the Rain."
I remembered the girl from earlier. She'd been quite pretty, and she'd seemed to trust Quinn completely.
And he'd just killed her. No remorse whatsoever.
My eyes accused him.
Quinn shrugged. "To complete the mission, I had no choice. She was a woman—she wouldn't have survived until the end anyway. Dead now or dead later, same difference."
I nodded.
Quinn wasn't wrong. Anyone entering this game should have already prepared themselves for death.
Then I pointed at the corpse. "What do we do with her? Just leave her here?"
Quinn picked up his bloodstained uniform and stuffed it into the washer-dryer combo.
Then he said, "Curfew's in effect. Patrol robots are everywhere outside. We'll have to leave her here overnight... Do you need your clothes washed?"
I felt a bit squeamish, but I had no choice. I stripped off my bloody uniform and threw it in after his.
I washed my face at the sink and went to bed.
After the night's chaos, I was dead tired.
I'd thought the corpse in the bathroom would keep me awake.
But the moment I lay down and closed my eyes, I was out.
It felt like I'd barely slept when the alarm went off.
I jolted awake, sitting up like a spring.
Quinn was already up—washed and dressed, ready to head out.
I stared at him in surprise. "How are you ready already? Isn't it still early?"
Quinn pulled on his top. "This isn't a real school. Arriving on time might not be safe. You'd better hurry."
Now that he mentioned it, I remembered.
The game organizers were full of tricks.
They were always layering extra conditions into each challenge, catching you off guard.
Like yesterday's lunch—arriving late meant wasting time finding a seat.
I scrambled out of bed and got ready.
The woman's corpse was gone from the bathroom. Quinn must have disposed of it.
I didn't ask. After washing up, I grabbed my clothes from the washer-dryer and left with Quinn.
We didn't go straight to the athletic field. We stopped by the cafeteria for breakfast first.
After eating, we strolled over to the field.
Looking around, I found myself marveling again.
This game facility was enormous.
Calling it an "athletic field" didn't do it justice—it was at least twice the size of a standard football pitch.
Good thing Quinn had told me to come early.
If I'd tried arriving on time and then had to find my class on a field this big, that alone would have killed me.
Quinn shot me a smug look. "See? Told you so."
I gave him a thumbs-up. "Smart."
Gradually, the other players arrived at the field too.
They fell into two camps: bright-eyed and energized, or haggard and drained.
I had to admit, whoever designed this game was seriously twisted.
Three hundred sixty degrees of physical and psychological torture.
Anyone who emerged from this game wasn't just a champion.
Even in the outside world, they'd be an undeniable force.
Money didn't just make the devil push the millstone—it could make the King of Hell dance.
As my mind wandered, the field filled with more and more players.
The big screen at the front of the field lit up.
The iconic Rabbit Overseer photo appeared, and the automated announcement began. "Five minutes remaining. Rabbit Academy's morning exercises are about to begin. All students, find your class by the numbers on the field, and stand within the black squares. Line up in order."
Black squares, one meter each, rose from the ground at regular intervals.
The spacing between squares was about three meters.
Everyone started moving.
I gave Quinn a look. "Good luck."
Quinn smiled and clapped my shoulder. "Stay alive."
I nodded and turned away.
My class was Class 8. The number was close to the front, so it was easy to find.
I just had to count the lineups of the seven classes ahead of ours and boom—there it was.
When I arrived, Harrison was already standing at the front of the line.
Given last night's events, I'd hoped to avoid him.
But he'd already seen me.
I had no choice but to walk over. "Morning, Captain."
Harrison gave me a small smile. "Morning."
His cheek was bruised and visibly swollen on one side.
Right where I'd punched him yesterday.
I'd lost control in the heat of the moment.
But later, Harrison had saved my life.
The two incidents cancelled each other out—and if anything, I was in the wrong.
I felt a twinge of guilt and pointed at his face. "Sorry about that. Did you put any medicine on it?"
Harrison, true to his name, stayed composed. He even tried to reassure me. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Go find your spot."
Since he wasn't bringing it up, I happily took the out.
I glanced toward the back. "Is it random positioning?"
Harrison nodded. "Yep. Go ahead."
The Class 8 lineup had a few other people beyond Harrison and me.
They all chose the very back of the line—probably figuring the farther from the front, the better.
Between Harrison and the rear, there was a wide gap.
I didn't overthink it. I just stood in the spot right behind Harrison.
Harrison was first. I was second.
He shot me a surprised look. "Standing this close to the front—you're not scared?"
"What about you?" I asked.
Harrison pointed at his feet. "The class monitor's position is fixed. I don't have a choice."
I glanced down.
Sure enough—right next to Harrison's shoes, the words "Class Monitor" were written in large red letters.
I'd felt pretty confident about my choice.
But his question made me second-guess myself.
Harrison must have sensed my anxiety.
He waved dismissively. "Don't worry. I'm just guessing."
"Oh."
I gave a dry response, not sure what to say.
My choice was made. Everyone else was already in position.
I didn't want the empty spots anyway.
Just like taking exams back in school.
When you're unsure of an answer, changing it might turn a right answer into a wrong one.
I'd picked my spot. I was betting on it.
I stood firmly in second place and didn't move.
The five-minute countdown ended. An upbeat march blared from the broadcast.