One by one, the others followed nervously, cautiously, some trembling as they stepped past the threshold. The air inside the hallway was colder. Heavier. As if even the shadows were watching.
They didn't know it yet but this was only the beginning.
The corridor split off into ten identical black rooms, each with an eerie glow coming from within. The soft voice returned, echoing above them:
"Please choose a room to enter. Each room accommodates exactly ten individuals. Once full, the doors will close."
One by one, groups of ten broke off, stepping inside the darkened chambers. Only nine entered the final room the 100th participant had already met their end earlier.
Inside the rooms, the air felt suffocating. The lights were dim, casting stark shadows against obsidian walls. A single long white table sat in the center, surrounded by ten spotless white chairs. In the middle of each table lay a random object each different, each ominous. The punishment tool.
On every chair rested a single card.
The voice returned, calm as ever:
"Please find your designated seat. Flip the card to reveal your number. This will determine your turn order.
As a reminder the deeper, the more personal, the more painful your truth… the more Desire Points you will earn. Lies will be punished, based on the object before you."
Art walked toward an empty chair. He slid into the seat, legs spread slightly, one arm lazily draped over the backrest. He picked up his card and flipped it.
7.
"Tch. Lucky number," he muttered, slipping the card into his pocket.
Silence fell across the room.
The voice crackled again:
"Number one, begin."
Across the table, a man in his forties slowly raised a shaky hand. His clothing was old, threadbare a classic mercenary's uniform from a long-forgotten world, stained and frayed at the edges. His eyes darted nervously, the flickering light reflecting his fear.
"H-Hello… m-my name is Kael," he stuttered. "Uh… in my world, I used to be part of a mercenary group. C-class, nothing fancy…"
He swallowed hard.
"I was the weakest in the group. Always getting mocked… bullied… called deadweight. I couldn't fight. Couldn't even lift my own damn sword."
He clenched his fists, voice cracking.
"Then… one day, a rival mercenary group offered me a deal. A lot of money. Enough to live rich for years."
Kael paused, eyes brimming with shame.
"I sold them out. Led the enemy right to our camp. I watched my own squad get slaughtered while I hid in a tree."
Silence.
He took a shaky breath.
"One of them… my old captain, he saw me. He didn't scream. Didn't curse me. He just… smiled. Like he already knew."
Kael looked down at the table.
"I still see that smile in my dreams."
The table lit up faintly, and a soft chime rang out.
Then the voice echoed again from the ceiling, soft yet chilling:
"Please do not lie."
Art leaned forward in his seat slightly, eyes narrowing as he glanced toward the center of the table. In front of him sat a strange metallic object a circular disk engraved with a jagged lightning symbol.
"Looks like some kind of electrical shock tool," he thought, raising an eyebrow. "Figures."
Before he could ponder further
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
A bloodcurdling scream erupted.
Kael convulsed violently in his chair. Sparks danced across his body as bolts of electricity surged through him. His chair rattled as his limbs jolted and spasmed. The other participants instinctively backed away in horror.
Two full minutes.
Two agonizing, skin-searing minutes.
By the time the shocks stopped, Kael's face had slammed against the table cheek mashed sideways against the cold surface. He was still breathing, but barely. His body trembled. Smoke curled from the seams of his shirt.
Then the voice returned:
"You lied. Please do not omit truth. Full confession is required."
Murmurs broke out among the group.
"He lied…?"
"Didn't he see what happened to the guy who didn't follow the rules earlier?"
"He said they bullied him… why lie about that?"
Kael stirred, still trembling. His face remained half-planted against the table, voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper but everyone heard him.
"I… I lied…" he rasped. "They didn't bully me…"
He coughed hard, a trace of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.
"They treated me like family. Like a little brother."
The room fell silent.
"I betrayed them… because I was jealous. Greedy. I wanted everything they had."
His voice cracked further, but he kept going like he needed to confess it all.
"And during the massacre… my captain saw me hiding. He didn't scream. He didn't beg me to help. He just… smiled."
Kael's fingers clenched into the edge of the table.
"He… put a finger to his lips. Told me to stay quiet. To live."
The entire room held its breath.
"And after they died… we found his daughter. Alive. She was maybe sixteen. Beautiful. Innocent…"
A pause. A long, suffocating silence.
"And we… took turns. Passed her around. Until she stopped breathing."
Gasp.
Someone pushed back from the table, their chair scraping violently against the floor.
A young man, no older than twenty, shot to his feet. He wore a torn peasant tunic, dirt smudged across his jaw, brown hair wild from stress and fury.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN?!!"
Kael didn't respond. He simply looked at the table, eyes vacant.
Others began to rise, trying to hold the peasant back.
"Calm down"
"Don't do anything stupid"
"YEAH? WELL, I DON'T CARE! WHAT HE DID IT'S INHUMAN!!"
His voice cracked from rage. His hands trembled.
"THAT'S NOT A SIN THAT'S EVIL!!"
Art watched quietly, eyes half-lidded.
"So this is what they meant by 'the weight of truth'..."
The atmosphere was suffocating now. The trial wasn't just about honesty.
It was about breaking people down.
One by one.
Then, once more, the voice from above echoed through the black room, calm and composed:
"Thank you for telling the truth."
A faint chime followed.
[+50 Desire Points]
Kael let out a shaky exhale, the corners of his lips twitching into a broken smile. His head still rested against the table, but there was a strange peace in his expression now like a man who'd carved out his demons with blunt tools.
"I guess…" he muttered, voice raw, "eating yourself from the inside is worth something in this place."
Art watched him silently, then let out a faint scoff.
His lips curled into a smirk.
"Crazy bastard," he said under his breath.