The moment I opened the door, I wasn't greeted by an exit or the outside world—but by a completely new place.
The door led into a vast room that immediately made my body tense up. It looked like a massive storage warehouse, with dozens—maybe hundreds—of metal shelves arranged in neat rows stretching as far as the eye could see. The floor was rough concrete, some parts cracked. Several shelves were already rusting, as if untouched by human hands for years.
Long fluorescent lights hung from the high ceiling. Some flickered, others were dead, casting an uneven, dim glow over the space. Every step I took echoed, merging with the buzzing hum of dying electricity.
"Creepy... But honestly, still better than that suffocating white room," I thought, taking a deep breath.
As I stepped in, the door behind me shut itself with a heavy metallic click, making me flinch. I spun around and tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge—it had locked on its own.
"Guess going back isn't an option..."
I scanned my surroundings. The warehouse was enormous. Hallways formed naturally between the towering shelves. In some areas, I spotted metal doors leading to other rooms—perhaps isolation rooms, security offices, or even storage within storage. In the distance, a metal staircase ascended—or descended—into a place I couldn't see from here.
The atmosphere reminded me of horror movie sets—places where people vanish, or worse, where something watches you from the shadows.
I kept walking, carefully. Every step felt like I was carving a path through an invisible map.
Eventually, between half-empty shelves, I came across a cardboard box. Curious, I cautiously opened it—and to my surprise:
"Cup ramen?"
A small smile crept onto my face. A rare stroke of luck in this bizarre world. I checked a few other boxes nearby—most were empty, but I remembered spotting a clean water terminal and a working power switch during my earlier exploration. The water looked clear, had no smell. Even the metallic taste was faint.
The problem was... no stove. No heating equipment.
Still, I clutched the box to my chest like a treasure. In a place like this, resources meant everything.
A few minutes later—just as I was preparing to explore further—
Footsteps.
Heavy but unhurried. Human… or something else?
Instinct took over. I darted behind a large shelf, crouching as I grabbed a metal rod lying conveniently among scattered debris.
"Stay calm… Focus…"
Holding my breath and gripping the rod tightly, I peeked through the gaps.
Someone appeared at the far end of the aisle.
A teenage boy. Wearing a wrinkled high school uniform, clutching an iron pipe, eyes wide with fear—like an animal lost in foreign territory. He moved cautiously, scanning every corner.
Just from his expression, I could tell: he didn't belong here. He was a victim, like me.
I exhaled, easing my stance, then slowly stepped out from hiding.
"Hey, kid. Over here."
My voice echoed far louder than expected. The boy flinched and pointed his pipe toward me, eyes full of panic.
It was a natural reaction. In a place like this, meeting another person could be just as terrifying as meeting a monster.
To calm him, I deliberately dropped my metal rod with a loud clang, then raised both hands.
"Relax. I'm a victim too. I got pulled in by that black room." "You too, right?"
The boy didn't answer at first, but I saw the hesitation in his eyes slowly shift into silent agreement. He nodded.
"In that case... maybe we can work together to find a way out." "If you're not sure, you're free to keep going on your own. But personally, I'd feel better with some backup."
I extended my hand toward him. He stared at it, thinking for a moment, then finally replied softly,
"I still don't trust you. But... being alone in a place like this sounds worse."
Cautiously, he stepped forward and shook my hand.
"Smart choice," I said with a faint smile. "What's your name, kid?"
"Don't call me kid. Name's Park Hyunsuk."
"Korean, huh?" I said, raising an eyebrow.
Looking at him more closely, his Asian features stood out. But earlier, I hadn't paid much attention—this warehouse's lighting played tricks on the eyes: some areas were glaringly bright, others dim to the point of distortion. And with the earlier tension, my focus had been entirely on defusing the encounter.
"You're not Korean, are you?" he asked back.
"Indonesian. Though not pure-blooded."
"Then... how are we even talking right now? I mean, you're speaking Korean."
"Nope. I've been speaking Indonesian this whole time."
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
"So this place... removes language barriers?" Hyunsuk muttered.
I nodded.
"It's a strange place. But if it lets us understand each other, that's one less problem to worry about."
"By the way, I'll call you Hyun. You can call me Lan."
Hyunsuk sighed.
"You're just deciding that on your own? Whatever. Since we'll be stuck together for now… let's cooperate."
I smiled again and picked up the ramen box.
"Cooperation is what's going to keep us alive."