"Recess exercise is about to begin. To ensure students maintain a healthy physique and an active mind, please answer questions by moving to the correct square. Blue represents FALSE, red represents TRUE. There will be ten questions. After each question is read, you have five seconds to move to the square with your answer. Those who fail will be punished. Recess exercise begins now. Countdown: ten seconds..."
My legs turned to jelly.
This was nothing but glorified short-distance shuttle runs!
Having to stay mentally sharp during this level of physical exertion—was that even humanly possible?
I started doubting myself all over again. I glanced at Harrison ahead.
He looked as pale as I did.
Fair enough—the score registration had been cheatable, but this shuttle run was a system test.
You lose, you die.
I swallowed hard and listened to the countdown end.
"Now, please listen to question one..."
I held my breath, dropping into a sprinter's stance.
The first question was crucial.
From its difficulty and how strict the answer needed to be, I'd be able to judge whether the game designers actually wanted most people to survive.
The voice spoke: "True or false: Polar bears only exist in the North Pole. Please make your choice. Five, four, three..."
What the hell? If polar bears didn't only live in the North Pole, why call them polar bears?
That was my instinctive thought.
I was about to run toward the blue square when I saw Harrison twist and sprint for the red one.
My stomach dropped.
My brain hadn't caught up, but my body was already following Harrison to the red square.
The moment both my feet landed on red, the countdown hit zero.
Everything happened so fast—I didn't even have time to think about what would happen if I'd chosen wrong.
I watched as a porthole opened in the wall above the blue square.
A cylindrical device extended from it, aligning with all the players standing on blue.
Within a second, a brilliant white beam fired.
With a sharp whoosh, it pierced through every single body on the blue squares.
They dropped to the ground simultaneously.
It was so coordinated, it looked rehearsed.
The beam faded, and the cylinder retracted into the wall.
More than half the contestants were dead, just like that—from the first question alone.
Terror rippled through my body. I gripped my pant legs.
I should've been paralyzed by fear of death—but all I could think about was:
...How the hell could polar bears not be only in the North Pole?
That question was absurd.
My mind was still reeling, but the next round had already begun.
"Question two: True or false—the hardest substance in the human body is the teeth. Please make your choice. Five, four, three..."
I knew this one, but I still instinctively glanced at Harrison.
He hadn't moved—staying put, like me.
I exhaled in relief.
The countdown ended. The correct answer was indeed the teeth.
Fewer people died this round.
Everyone seemed to figure out that on this kind of test, you could reference a teammate's answer.
If your class happened to have someone genuinely knowledgeable, you'd struck gold.
Someone like me.
For the remaining eight questions, I basically followed Harrison's lead.
I wanted to think for myself.
But the questions were so ruthlessly difficult—the game designers clearly wanted to kill us. I couldn't be sure of the answers, so I relied on Harrison.
Thinking plus running in five seconds was barely enough time.
Even if Harrison had wanted to deliberately pick wrong, he wouldn't dare.
Choosing the right answer but failing to reach the square in time meant death too.
If he wanted to live, he'd choose the answer he knew to be correct, without hesitation.
That was why I felt safe following him.
Harrison didn't let me down—nine questions, all correct.
One question remained.
My stamina was nearly spent. Harrison was drenched in sweat too, his glasses sliding down his nose.
He pushed them back up with one finger, then turned to glance at me.
I'd just wiped the sweat dripping off my chin when the system announced: "Final question—do ghosts exist in the world?"
I watched Harrison sprint toward the red square.
His answer was—NO.
But something felt wrong.
This question was completely different from the others. It wasn't a binary true/false.
It was an open-ended choice.
You could pick "YES," "NO," or "UNCERTAIN."
Whether ghosts existed—experts had been debating that forever, with no authoritative conclusion.
And the game designers had deliberately placed it at the very end.
A trap set when all the players' physical and mental energy was at their limit.
This question was a trick!
The moment I understood, I sprinted for the black square, shouting, "Harrison!"
Harrison turned. When he saw me standing on the black square—
In that one second, a thousand emotions flickered across his eyes. Surprise, confusion, doubt...
Then his brow furrowed, and he spun around, sprinting back.
The moment Harrison's feet landed on the black square—
Four transparent frosted glass walls rose around the red and blue squares on both sides, trapping the players inside.
Those players realized something was wrong.
They finally caught on—this question was a trap.
Neither red nor blue was safe.
The black square wasn't the right answer either—anyone NOT on red or blue won.
The players too exhausted to move, who'd chosen nothing, became the lucky winners of this round.
They sat on the ground, trembling,Fixing their horrified gaze on those trapped behind the frosted glass.
Their hearts pounding with the realization of how close they'd come.
From inside the glass walls came waves of desperate screaming.
They were begging, howling, some weeping uncontrollably.
The scene was like the River of Forgetfulness from the underworld—a chorus of anguished wails.
The broadcast announced: "Recess exercise is now complete. All students who have passed the test, please return to your dorms to rest. Report to the classroom building at two PM sharp, find your assigned class, and begin lessons."
Harrison walked over and extended a hand. "Let's go."
I sat on the ground, looked at him, then placed my hand in his. It took tremendous effort just to stand.
My body was completely spent—my legs wouldn't cooperate.
Harrison was no better off. We leaned on each other and slowly shuffled toward the exit.
As we passed the tall frosted glass walls, I could faintly make out the silhouettes inside.
Those players pressed against the glass, pounding it, calling out for help to those of us on the outside.
But who could help them?
Who would want to?
Everyone harbored different thoughts, but they shared one: they walked past in silence.
The moment I stepped out of the field, the ground shook violently again.
The frosted glass structures, with the trapped players inside, began descending slowly into the ground.
I asked, "Where are they being taken?"
What I really wanted to know was—would they die?
Harrison shook his head. "I don't know. But most likely they won't make it out alive. So many people have died in this game already—you think the designers would just let them walk free?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
Even if they did survive—so what?
If they'd been living well out there, why would they have chosen to come here?
The world outside was competition too—survival of the fittest.
The difference was that here, they killed you outright. Out there, they boiled you slowly like a frog.
We were all the same...
Back at the dorm, I passed the Rabbit Hall Warden's station and noticed a screen with several options.
One of them said "Check number of participants."
Curious, I tapped it. A pop-up appeared, displaying in red text:
"Current participants: 578 remaining."
I stared at the number for a while, then turned and headed back to my room.
Every time I pushed the door open, my feelings were mixed.
Part of me hoped Quinn was dead, and part of me hoped he wasn't.
This time was no different. I opened the door with the same suspense as opening a blind box.
Quinn was sprawled on his bed, playing on his phone.
He saw me come in and waved. "Yo, you survived too."
I nodded. "Don't worry—I'm not dying before you."
Quinn burst out laughing.
After a brief rest, afternoon arrived.
As usual, Quinn and I headed to the classroom early.
The so-called classroom building was just a sealed space with a long corridor.
Both sides of the corridor were lined with square rooms.
Each room had rows of desks inside and a podium up front.