Rain drummed steadily on the windows of St. Aurelius Academy, the sound muffled by thick stone walls and polished glass. The final bell rang, and students flooded the hallways with hurried steps and muffled chatter. Weekend plans were being exchanged. Laughter echoed. But in the quiet corners of the school, something else was happening.
Seven students received a letter.
Not a text. Not an email.
An envelope—white, unmarked—slipped into their lockers.
Inside, a single slip of paper:
> "Report to Room 313. Detention. 4:30 PM. Do not be late."
Aria Cruz stared at the note, her hands trembling. Detention? She'd never even raised her voice in class, much less broken a rule. She folded the paper neatly and hid it in her planner.
Leo Tanaka crumpled the note with a grunt. "Must be a mistake," he muttered, shoving it into his pocket. "I haven't skipped anything this week."
June Delgado didn't react. He folded the slip once, tucked it in his hoodie pocket, and walked off without a word.
Carla Montemayor, the school's model vice president, took a photo of the paper with her phone. "This isn't protocol," she said sharply, already drafting an email.
Noah Reyes laughed out loud. "Classic. Someone's pulling a prank. Bet it's part of some dumb scavenger hunt."
Samantha Lim, the recent transfer, read the note and paled. She didn't speak. Just stared at it for a moment before heading down the hall.
Theo Santiago, quiet as always, sat under the stairwell, sketchpad in hand. When he opened his locker and saw the envelope, he simply stared at it for a long while… and smiled faintly.
---
At 4:30 PM, all seven stood before a room that wasn't supposed to exist.
Room 313.
Abandoned since the fire three years ago. No one had entered since. The door was supposed to be sealed.
But now—it was open.
Inside, dust hung thick in the air. Desks were arranged in a perfect circle. The overhead lights flickered. A single red light blinked from the corner: a surveillance camera.
They stepped in, unsure.
And the door slammed shut behind them.
The sound of locks clicking echoed like a gunshot.
Noah rushed to the door. "What the hell—? There's no handle!"
Carla pounded on the wood. "Is this a joke? Hello?!"
The lights dimmed.
Then a voice—cold, distorted, and mechanical—crackled through the intercom:
> "Welcome, students. You are here because one among you carries a secret. A deadly one. You have one hour to find out who. If you fail… none of you leave this room."
A pause.
Then the voice spoke again, darker this time:
> "This is not a punishment. This is a test."
And then—silence.
---
The seven students stood frozen, eyes wide, breaths shallow.
And thus, the first game began.
---