The Rabbit Hall Warden's voice chimed in: "Registration complete. Please follow me to your dorm room."
It rolled ahead, leading us down a long corridor past countless dorm rooms before stopping at the very last one.
"You are our last students to check in. Lunch will be served shortly, so please change into your uniforms and arrive at the cafeteria by noon sharp."
With that, the Hall Warden zipped away on its rollers.
Quinn and I opened the door and stepped inside.
The dorm's interior matched the corridor's futuristic aesthetic—stark white beds and floor tiles.
Two uniforms were neatly folded at the foot of each bed.
Instead of changing right away, I inspected the room.
The window displayed a giant smart screen simulating an outdoor view—nothing else seemed unusual.
Quinn reminded me, "Hurry up and change. Don't be late."
Remembering those horrifying punishments, I grabbed the uniform and dressed quickly.
It was typical school attire—white shirt, blue pants—with a pink cartoon rabbit head logo on the left chest.
Identical to the masks the Rabbit Overseers wore.
Oddly enough, the clothes fit perfectly.
And the collar tag had my name printed on it.
Uneasy, I asked Quinn, "Does your uniform have your name on it too?"
"Yeah. Not surprising—they had plenty of time to prepare while we walked here."
He pressed the window button, cycling through scenes—icy tundra, city streets—before settling on a primeval forest.
When he selected it, the room's vents released the scent of rain-soaked earth.
Surround speakers played birdsong.
"Technology's insane," I muttered.
Quinn shrugged. "Come on, let's eat. No time."
I checked my phone—11:30. Half an hour until the cafeteria gathering.
I had questions for Quinn, but time was running out. I'd have to ask later.
I walked to the door and pulled the handle.
It wouldn't budge—the door was locked from the outside!
I turned to Quinn. "Did you lock this?"
He crossed his arms. "Dude, you're the one who closed it."
I stared at him, dumbfounded.
The cafeteria deadline was approaching fast.
If we couldn't get out, Quinn and I were dead.
Quinn pushed past me to examine the lock.
I backed toward the bed, scanning for another mechanism.
That's when I noticed the room's lighting was unbearably bright.
After being inside for so long, my eyes were starting to blur—like snow blindness.
I squinted, feeling along the smooth walls for a switch. Nothing—no controls, no decorations.
My eyes were getting worse. I rummaged through the nightstand drawer, hoping for a cloth to shield my eyes.
Inside, I found a pair of snow goggles—wooden frames with narrow slits, the kind invented by the Inuit to prevent snow blindness.
Essential gear for mountaineering expeditions.
I put them on gratefully, and that's when I noticed something else in the drawer.
A plastic curved knife.
The blade was about five centimeters long—thin, flimsy, completely harmless.
I called out to Quinn, "There's a plastic knife here. Think you can pick the lock?"
Quinn couldn't open the lock either. "Where? Give it here."
5
We both turned to face each other at the same time.
As I turned, my peripheral vision caught a massive dark shape at the window.
I froze, staring.
On the forest path that Quinn had just selected, a giant tiger had appeared at the far end.
It stood motionless, its golden eyes staring directly at us.
I whispered, "Was there a tiger on the screen before?"
Quinn frowned, not daring to move. "No... I don't think so?"
My throat tightened. The tiger had simply materialized.
"Is it real or fake?"
Quinn turned to look—and the instant he moved, the tiger sprang to life.
It roared, bared its fangs, and charged straight toward us.
"Shit!"
We both lunged for the window—Quinn to close it, me to change the channel.
But both the window and the button were unresponsive.
The tiger was almost on us. Three meters away!
Quinn shouted, "The bathroom! Go!"
We abandoned the window and bolted for the bathroom.
The tiger leaped—crashing right through the screen.
It knocked Quinn to the ground.
The sound of Quinn falling and the tiger's roar filled the room simultaneously.
This is bad.
We were running out of time for the cafeteria. I couldn't leave Quinn to die.
And hiding wouldn't help either. If Quinn died, I'd be eliminated as his teammate.
I had to save him.
Decision made, I looked down at the curved knife in my hand.
Through the snow goggles, the plastic blade looked razor-sharp.
The ceiling lights reflected off it in a cold, deadly gleam.
I didn't have time to question it. I charged at the tiger.
It had Quinn's arm clamped in its jaws, thrashing its head violently.
Quinn fought back, kicking frantically, but the tiger's hide was too thick.
When I reached them, I noticed something—through my goggles, green glowing dots appeared all over the tiger's body.
Like a VR game providing tactical weak points in a crisis.
Quinn was running out of strength.
I gripped the knife with both hands, aimed for the brightest green dot, and drove it in.
A wet squelch—the blade sank to the hilt.
The tiger roared in pain and released Quinn's arm.
Quinn rolled away, scrambling under the desk.
The tiger wasn't dead yet, still thrashing.
I planted my foot on its back, yanked the knife free, then grabbed its scruff with one hand.
With my other hand, I placed the blade against the pulsing green line on its throat and slashed.
Blood sprayed. The coppery stench filled the room.
The tiger convulsed, then collapsed, motionless.
I leaned against the windowsill, legs trembling.
After catching my breath, I wiped the blood on my shirt and looked at Quinn. "Hey, you okay?"
"Don't worry, I'll live."
Quinn's face was pale. He dragged his injured arm out from under the desk.
I moved closer to check his wound, but he pulled away.
I stopped, staring.
In that brief moment before he hid his arm, I saw what was inside the gash.
No blood. No muscle. Just red and blue wires sticking out of torn synthetic skin.
I stepped back and leveled the knife at him. "Tell me the truth—who are you? Why is your arm full of wires instead of bones?!"
Quinn's forearm was torn open, revealing circuitry beneath.
It looked exactly like a prosthetic—synthetic skin wrapped around mechanical components.
When I demanded answers, Quinn rolled his eyes. "Dumbass, I'm an amputee."