"What?" I stared, unconvinced.
Quinn rummaged in his suitcase and tossed me a roll of bandages and a tube of super glue.
"It's true. I lost my arm in an accident and got a prosthetic for practical use. Stop doubting me and help me patch this up—we still need to get to the cafeteria."
I checked the time. Ten minutes left.
6
I looked at Quinn. He sat on the bed, calm and steady.
I thought it over.
Even if Quinn's identity was suspicious, what could I really do about it?
Better to play along and stay alert.
So I went over and started bandaging his arm.
The wound looked gruesome, but the internal wiring was intact—just a matter of sealing the synthetic skin.
As I dressed his wound, something clicked.
No wonder he hadn't flinched during registration—his arm was prosthetic.
After securing the bandage, I noticed something odd about the number on his palm.
It had been 3721 before. Now it read 865.
Before I could examine it more closely, Quinn pulled his hand back and stood up. "Let's go. We don't even know where the cafeteria is—if it's far, we'll definitely be late."
Good point. The dormitory maze had taken forever to navigate.
Ten minutes wouldn't be enough if it meant more twisting corridors and escalators.
I followed Quinn out without another word.
He said he'd spotted a map on the wall near the corridor junction earlier.
We hurried to the map, passing other dormitory doors. Through some, I heard muffled screams—the sound of someone being punished.
Doors rattled violently, then went silent.
Clear water mixed with blood seeped from beneath one door, creeping toward my feet.
I stepped over it carefully.
Quinn stood studying the map. He glanced back at me with a smirk. "You adapt quickly."
"Thanks," I replied flatly. "Find the cafeteria?"
He pointed. "Right here."
My heart dropped.
The cafeteria was right at the entrance.
Which meant we had to backtrack through the entire maze within ten minutes.
Impossible—at least, without a shortcut.
Just as despair set in, Quinn said, "There's a shortcut."
"How do you know?"
He gestured at the map. "It says so right here."
I leaned in and squinted.
There it was—a tiny path marked with text so small it was nearly invisible.
It read: Shortcut.
As we ran, I grumbled, "What kind of stupid design is this?"
Quinn didn't even look back. "It's not stupid—it's a psychology test. Think about it: you just survived a life-threatening room challenge, then you have to race to the cafeteria under a time limit. Staying calm enough to spot details under that kind of pressure isn't easy."
He had a point.
And the more I observed Quinn, the more I realized he was no ordinary person.
He seemed playful on the surface, but underneath, he was ice-cold.
Like someone trained in survival.
I kept my guard up as I followed him through the shortcut.
We made it to the cafeteria entrance with minutes to spare.
An electronic screen above the door showed a countdown.
Black background, glowing green numbers: "30, 29, 28..."
Quinn and I pushed through the doors.
From the corridor behind us came frantic footsteps and a shout: "Wait! Don't close it!"
Quinn and I each held a door open.
I glanced at him. "Should we wait?"
He looked inside the cafeteria. "Forget it. Let's find a seat."
I followed his gaze. The cafeteria was packed.
Two people per table, facing each other.
Everyone turned to stare at us in silence.
In that instant, I understood.
Only one person was outside.
Which meant his partner was either already dead or hadn't made it in time.
With the mandatory pairing system, letting him in wouldn't save him.
And the doors had a countdown.
Self-preservation kicked in. I released the door and stepped inside.
Every seat was taken.
Finding an empty spot felt like searching for a flaw in a perfect painting.
The countdown hit the final ten seconds, and I broke into a cold sweat.
Someone tugged my sleeve and whispered, "Top left corner. Hurry."
I glanced down. A girl with a high ponytail and blunt bangs was pointing.
I looked where she indicated. Past a crossbeam, beside a stack of cardboard boxes, sat a battered old table—so rundown that everyone else had avoided it.
I didn't waste time thanking her. I grabbed Quinn and bolted for the empty spot.
We reached the table just as the countdown hit zero.
We sat across from each other, gasping.
Did we make it?
I looked at Quinn, mouthing the question.
He shook his head—he wasn't sure either.
Before we could find out, a man's voice screamed from outside the cafeteria doors.
"Don't come near me! Do you know who my godfather is?!"
His voice echoed through the silent hall.
Then—a burst of violent sounds, a wet thud, and then... silence.
Not a single person in the cafeteria dared speak.
Everyone sat frozen, afraid to move.
Finally, the AI broadcast spoke: "Lunchtime. Before eating, all students must remember and follow these rules: First, no picky eating. Second, no wasting food. Third, finish all food within the time limit and place your trays in the collection area. After eating, return to your seats for class assignments."
"Begin."
With a click, my table surface split open and a stainless steel tray rose slowly from below.
I looked down. The opening was dark, mechanical components grinding inside.
Once the tray was set, the mechanism retracted and the table sealed shut.
The food: two meat dishes, one vegetable, and a bowl of soup.
The savory aroma hit me, and I started eating without thinking.
Quinn was just as ravenous across from me.
After a few bites, the massive screen at the front of the cafeteria lit up with a ten-minute countdown.
I glanced up to check the time—and saw something far more horrifying.
I froze.
For a few seconds, my brain couldn't process what I was seeing. Then my stomach heaved.
I gagged, spitting my food back onto the tray.
Quinn blinked. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't bring myself to look up again. I pressed my hand over my mouth and pointed upward.
Quinn followed my finger and looked up.
He gagged too.
The cafeteria ceiling was covered in corpses, hanging like slaughtered animals.