Secret Room Revealed
Part One
Before six, Quinn and I left the dorm together.
Walking down the corridor, I suddenly remembered the scream I'd heard last night.
Because of that scream, I'd nearly been scared to death by the ghost hallucination.
I told Quinn about it.
Quinn said, "You think staying in the dorm keeps you safe? That music is part of the challenge too—just approached from a different angle."
"What do you mean?"
Quinn nodded. "Ever heard of the sensory deprivation experiment?"
I had a vague recollection but had never looked into it in depth.
Quinn explained, "I only know the basics. Psychologists ran experiments where people were placed in sealed environments with only basic survival needs met—nothing else to do. Most couldn't last 72 hours before their minds started breaking."
I applied his explanation to my own experience and understood immediately.
"We're already in a sealed environment, and we're under extreme life-or-death pressure. Our emotions are already unstable. That music has a melancholic quality—it induces hallucinations. If you're lucky, you push through. If not, your mind snaps."
A mind snapping meant choosing suicide.
So that scream last night had likely come from someone whose mind had fractured under the music's psychological torment.
No wonder Quinn called it a side challenge.
After hearing my analysis, Quinn nodded. "The organizers have played that track two nights in a row now, always in the dead of night when we're exhausted and mentally weakest. As time goes on, more people will die from that music than from the daytime challenges."
I thought of a solution. "Now that we know the music is the problem, we can just plug our ears. They won't come check our rooms at night."
Quinn agreed. "Worth a try."
Then we headed to the cafeteria for breakfast.
I thought it would be a normal meal.
But Quinn told me that today's morning challenge would also take place in the cafeteria.
I pushed through the doors and saw the tables completely rearranged.
Before, we'd sat in pairs, face to face.
Now all the tables had been pushed together in one long line, snaking from the far end of the cafeteria all the way to the front, turning at corners and continuing in a serpentine pattern like a giant game of Snake—coiling inward like an incense spiral.
The outer rings had the most tables. The inner rings had fewer.
Something about the layout felt off. I asked Quinn, "Is this an individual challenge or a class challenge?"
Quinn just turned and walked away. "No idea. Let's find our numbers."
He left my side.
Watching his retreating back, a wave of unease hit me.
I caught myself immediately. This wouldn't do.
Without realizing it, I'd grown too dependent on Quinn.
Last night's ghost was a wake-up call.
Quinn seemed friendly and easygoing, but he never pulled his punches when it mattered.
I gathered myself and went looking for my assigned seat.
I finally found my number at a table near the center and sat down.
Before long, Harrison and a few others from our class arrived.
Their seats were scattered far from mine—some at the far end, some near the front.
Based on the arrangement, I guessed this was an individual round, not another team challenge.
I'd need to be even more careful now.
No more of Harrison cheating to help me. This time I was on my own.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, a girl sat down on my right.
She greeted me with a surprised smile.
I looked over—and blinked. I actually knew her.
It was the ponytail girl who'd shown Quinn and me the way when we first arrived at Rabbit Academy.
She introduced herself with a smile. "We meet again. I'm Vivian. You?"
I gave a perfunctory smile. "Alex."
We chatted briefly as more players filtered in.
By this round, nobody was late.
Anyone still alive was either incredibly lucky or very capable.
The countdown hit zero. Six AM sharp.
The challenge had begun.
The entire cafeteria fell into silence, everyone waiting for the broadcast announcement.
A chime sounded, and that AI voice we'd all grown sick of rang out.
"Good morning, students! It's breakfast time, and the Rabbit Overseers have prepared a wonderful spread for you. To discourage picky eating, please taste each dish in order. Every group of seven shares one set of dishes, and one plate in each set contains a surprise gift package! The lucky student who finds it will receive a special reward."
I listened to the rules, but they made no sense to me.
---
The AI voice seemed to read my mind, continuing: "To help everyone understand the rules, let's have the outermost students demonstrate first. First course—serve it up!"
At those words, every head turned toward the seven people on the outermost ring.
They sat in a row, faces pale, bodies rigid.
Drawing the first shift—their luck was terrible.
I scanned their faces and spotted Harrison.
He was the very first on the outside edge.
He still wore those gold-framed glasses. Like the others beside him, his expression wasn't great—he looked nervous too.
I figured if it were me, I'd be just as anxious.
Today's breakfast challenge, to put it nicely, required no skill whatsoever.
To put it bluntly—it was pure luck.
No matter how smart or capable you were, in a game ruled by chance, none of it mattered.
If you drew the short straw, you were dead.
Harrison had saved my life yesterday. I silently prayed he'd make it through this round.
A mechanical rumble sounded from above. I looked up to see seven steaming plates suspended by cables, slowly lowering down.
They landed in front of the seven students on the outer edge.
Seven people, seven dishes—one plate per person.
Clearly, this was one-to-one. Each person could only eat the dish in front of them.
Meanwhile, a small square compartment opened at the edge of each table. A set of fine chopsticks and a bowl emerged on a mechanical arm, delivered to each of the seven.
Harrison and the others took the utensils. The arm retracted, and the compartment closed.
The system announced: "To avoid delaying other students' meals, please finish your dishes within five minutes. Starting now!"
A massive screen on the wall lit up with a red countdown.
4:59. 4:58...
Harrison's plate held tomato and egg stir-fry.
Normally, those vivid red chunks would have looked appetizing.
Right now, they looked like blood.
Harrison clearly had trouble swallowing.
But he glanced at the clock on the wall—perhaps weighing the time limit—and finally picked up his chopsticks.
He pinched a piece of tomato and shoved it into his mouth.
Eating—but with the expression of someone swallowing poison.
The word "poison" flashed through my mind.
The so-called surprise gift—what if it was a lie?
Could the food be laced with poison?
Then I understood why everyone looked so strange.
They'd figured it out too. The organizers didn't bring everyone here for a normal breakfast.
Thanks to Quinn's warning yesterday, my thinking had sharpened. I could now see angles I'd never considered before.
While my mind spun, Harrison's face changed—he'd bitten into something.
His cheeks bulged with food, eyes wide with terror, darting around the room.
The six people beside him froze.
The entire cafeteria went pin-drop silent, every eye locked on Harrison.
He slowly pushed his fingers into his mouth, searching for something.
Then he pinched whatever it was and pulled it out.
Everyone leaned in, desperate to see.
Half the room stood up on instinct. I climbed onto my bench, straining to look.
Harrison had extracted a tiny red heart shape.
A heart?
Not poison?
My brain short-circuited.