The Crimson Game Chapter 1

[Don't touch anything red in the room, or you'll die!]

Hearing that voice, I pulled my hand back from the red cup I was about to grab, caught between impossible choices.

Drink the water, die now. Don't drink it, die tomorrow.

Twenty-four hours ago, I'd caught a ride home in a red taxi.

We crashed somewhere along the highway. I blacked out on impact.

When I came to, the scene before me made my jaw drop in horror.

A sealed room, aggressively painted in garish shades of crimson from floor to ceiling.

A man wrapped head to toe in red clothing spoke to me with chilling indifference: "If you want to live, don't touch anything red in this room."

After he left, I tried making noise, tried breaking the absurdity of it all. But nothing changed except the slow crawl of time.

The room I was trapped in measured roughly 200 square feet.

Basic supplies were available, at least.

Two cameras in the corners made me feel constantly watched.

God knows how many other rooms like this existed.

I stared at the red clothes on the hanger, the red shoes in the corner, the red food on the table.

Weakened, I collapsed to the floor, my temples throbbing with pain.

Three days without water or food had left me barely functional.

I felt like I was dying.

I desperately wanted to drink that red water on the table.

But the red-clothed man's cold words echoed in my mind.

"If you want to live, don't touch anything red in this room."

"Drink the water, die now. Don't drink it, die tomorrow."

"Fuck it, dead is dead."

I clenched my jaw, pressed my hands against the floor, and struggled to stand. Every movement challenged my exhausted body.

Just as my hand was about to grasp the cup, a speaker in the room suddenly crackled to life.

"Congratulations, players. You've passed the first round. First round deaths: 31. Survivors: 69. Second round begins in fifteen minutes. Please wait patiently."