It had been several minutes since L’ Boh gave his initial “instructions”, if you could even call it that. During that time, I was laying on my bed, my gaze drifting toward the ceiling.

Even though it had been a single time before this that I was inside this strange white room, it wasn’t too bad. Maybe it was that it was a familiar place instead of a foreign one, or it being the first conscious moment I could remember that made it feel comforting.

However, that confort was a falsehood. This was essentially a prison, after all. If they didn’t find the condition or way out, they would be stuck here.

The only sound in the room was the subtle thump of Gabby’s foot tapping against the floor. She was clearly agitated by the absurdity of our situation, as much as she was trying to rain it in.

“We need a plan,” she said, “L’ Boh’s not just going to let us sit here until we magically figure out some puzzle. He’s testing us for something specific.”

I nodded, gaze still fixed toward the ceiling as my mind raced through all the possibilities. “What does cooperation even look like in this twisted place? We barely know each other.”

“That’s the point, right?” Gabby countered. “We’re supposed to learn to work together. Maybe he wants us to understand each other’s strengths or weaknesses.”

“Okay, but how do we even start?” I asked, glancing over to look at her. “There’s nothing here but us.”

“Maybe we need to share our stories,” she suggested, looking at me intently.

I rose, sitting upright in my bed now, “You really think that’s it?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“...”

“Thought so.”

“Fine,” I said. “How about you go first?”

“Okay. What do you want to know?” she replied.

I pondered for a moment before saying, “You said you were a model. Why?”

There was a noticeable pause on her face at the question. “Why?”

“Yeah. Like what’s your reason. Everyone does things for something, right?”

Gabby stared at me for a long moment, tapping her foot thoughtfully before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know if it was ever some grand, noble reason,” she said slowly. “I think it started out as a way to be seen, to… I don’t know, make people notice me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just… to be seen?”

She shook her head, frowning a little. “It sounds shallow, I know. But it’s not exactly that simple. Being noticed, it’s—it’s not about the attention, exactly. It’s more like... trying to prove something to myself. Like if I could get everyone else to believe in me, I might believe in myself too.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “So, modeling was a way to find… validation?”

“Maybe. Or at least to feel like I had some kind of worth,” she admitted, her tone softer. “People always talk about models as if we’re shallow or obsessed with looks. But for me, it was more than that. It was about control, you know? A way to show that I could control how people saw me, even if I couldn’t control how I saw myself.”

I mulled over her words, surprised by the vulnerability she was revealing. “Interesting,” I murmured. “I guess everyone has their reasons for doing what they do.”

“What about you?” she asked, turning the question back on me. “What did you do before… well, before all of this?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. I didn’t have an answer—not really. I had fragments, scattered and incomplete, but nothing solid to cling to. The emptiness settled around me, thick and uncomfortable.

“I… don’t know,” I finally admitted. “I don’t remember anything about my life before this.”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t remember anything at all?”

I shrugged, feeling a twinge of frustration at her skepticism. “I have no reason to lie. I just… don’t remember. It’s all blank, like my mind’s been scrubbed clean or something.”

Her gaze softened, and she nodded, though her expression remained cautious. “I get it. It’s just hard to imagine not knowing who you were before this. That must be… terrifying.”

“It’s strange,” I replied, surprised by how much that confession eased something inside me. “In a way, it feels like it’s harder to be scared of what you can’t remember. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

She tilted her head, studying me thoughtfully. “I think it does. You don’t have memories to hold onto or miss, so it’s like you’re just… floating here, without any ties.”

“Exactly.” I let out a breath, glancing around the room. “But that’s also why this feels so… empty. If I don’t even know who I was, how am I supposed to ‘cooperate’ or be any good at this test he’s putting us through?”

Gabby let out a sigh of her own, lying back on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. The minutes ticked by in silence, stretching longer and longer as we both stewed in our thoughts. Nothing in the room had changed, no clue or revelation had appeared, and we were no closer to an escape than we’d been when we’d first walked in.

“It’s been a while since L’ Boh gave his instructions,” I muttered, breaking the quiet. “Do you think this is just part of the test? Waiting?”

Gabby tapped her foot impatiently. “Maybe, but I doubt we’re supposed to just sit here and meditate. He’s testing us for something specific. Cooperation, right? So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing to prove we can work together?”

I shifted my gaze back to the ceiling, trying to make sense of it. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? What does cooperation look like in a place like this? We barely know each other.”

She nodded, her expression hardening with determination. “And that’s probably the point. He wants us to figure each other out, to understand how we work—our strengths, weaknesses, whatever it takes to get us out of here.”

“So, what, we are supposed to talk about our likes and dislikes?” I asked, chuckling. “What is this, a first date?”

Gabby laughed, a short, dry sound. “Feels more like a really weird therapy session, but yeah, maybe that’s what he wants. For us to spill our guts about every little thing, see if we’re even capable of connecting.” She shrugged, her face softening a little. “Maybe that’s what cooperation means here. Not just, you know, working together, but actually understanding each other.”

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I looked at her, feeling the weight of her words. This wasn’t just a test of cooperation—it was about trust, too. Whatever L’ Boh’s intentions, it was clear he didn’t want us just going through the motions.

“Alright, I’ll play along,” I said, leaning back. “So, let’s see. You asked what I did before this place, but since I don’t have memories, that’s off the table. I guess I’ll tell you what I feel.” I paused, running a hand through my hair, surprised at how much it had been bothering me—the way everything felt intangible, like I wasn’t real without those memories.

“Go on,” Gabby urged, her tone softer than before.

“It’s like… I feel like I should know things. Like, I can talk about concepts, I can tell you about random stuff—physics, history, whatever comes to mind. But when I try to recall something personal, there’s just this… emptiness. I don’t know what it’s like to miss people, or places, or anything. And that feels wrong. Like I’m not a real person.”

Gabby watched me intently, her eyes searching my face for something. “It’s like you’re missing your own foundation. You’re here, but there’s nothing behind you, no past to give you a sense of who you are.”

“Exactly. I can’t imagine what it’s like to know what you’re missing, but not having anything to miss isn’t much better.” I shook my head, almost laughing at how strange it all sounded. “It’s kind of funny. I want to remember so I can feel… grounded. But at the same time, I’m terrified of what I’ll find.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s the fear that whatever I was, whoever I was, won’t live up to the person I want to be,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “And if I turn out to be… unworthy, or cruel, or weak, then maybe it’s better not to remember.”

Images of the scarlet haired man flashed through my mind. He was cruel. I wondered, who had he been before getting dragged here? It wouldn’t have been a civil servant that was for sure. But, for all I know, I’m not much better. Heck, I could even be worse. It was just too hard to tell at this point…

Gabby nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “Maybe that’s why L’ Boh picked you for this. Maybe he wants to see if you’re willing to confront that fear. That would fit his style, from what I’ve seen.”

We sat there in silence, the weight of our shared vulnerability thickening the air. It was uncomfortable but strangely comforting, too, like we were beginning to break down the walls L’ Boh had put up between us.

“So,” she said finally, “if this is part of the test, where does that leave us? We’ve talked, we’ve shared some stuff, but we’re still here. What else could he possibly want from us?”

“Maybe he wants us to prove we can trust each other.” I glanced over at her. “You know, actually trust.”

She tilted her head, considering that. “Maybe. But how do you prove trust in a place with nothing to act on? We’re stuck in a box with no clues and no real stakes—what are we supposed to trust each other with?”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I muttered, frustrated. “We don’t know what he wants or what ‘winning’ looks like. For all we know, there isn’t even an escape. Maybe he’s watching to see what we’ll do if there’s no way out.”

The room seemed even quieter after that, the sterile white walls closing in around us. Gabby sighed and lay back on her bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Maybe we’re overthinking it,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe he just wants us to be here, in this exact moment, no pasts or futures. Just… here.”

A strange thought struck me. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe he wants to see if we can let go of everything and just accept… this.”

Gabby looked over at me, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “That would be the ultimate irony, wouldn’t it? Testing us on cooperation and connection, only to force us to accept being trapped with ourselves.”

We shared a quiet laugh, the tension easing for a moment. There was something oddly freeing about admitting we might not have control over the situation—that we were, in a way, just as helpless as we felt. In the stillness that followed, we both lapsed into silence, waiting for something to happen, for the room to change, for any sign from L’ Boh that we’d passed whatever obscure test he’d set for us.

But nothing happened. The walls remained blank, the silence deepening as we sat there, side by side, unsure of what came next.

“Alright,” Gabby said, breaking the silence. “Let’s play a word game. If we’re stuck here, might as well keep my brain from rotting.”

“A word game?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like… I say a word, then you say a word related to it, and we go back and forth until one of us messes up?”

“Exactly.” She smirked. “Think you can keep up?”

I shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”

We started slowly, tossing back simple words like “sun” and “moon,” “fire” and “water,” “rock” and “paper.” The game picked up pace, each of us trying to outwit the other with increasingly obscure connections.

“Desert,” I said, thinking I had her stumped.

“Camel,” she replied smoothly.

“Thirst,” I countered, as quickly as I could.

“Oasis.”

“Mirage.”

She paused, her face scrunching up as she tried to think of a response, but after a few seconds, she groaned in defeat. “Ugh, fine. I can’t believe I just lost to a guy who doesn’t even remember what he had for breakfast last week.”

I grinned, leaning back in my bed with exaggerated smugness. “Guess I’m sharper than I look, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t get too cocky.”

We both laughed, and for a moment, I felt something close to normal. Maybe it was the forced simplicity of the game or the ridiculousness of our predicament, but whatever it was, it lightened the atmosphere between us.

Time, though… time was impossible to gauge in this room. It could’ve been an hour, or maybe several. The walls gave us no hints, and the sterile light that filled the space never shifted, making everything blur together. We talked more, our conversations drifting between light topics and heavier, more personal ones. Eventually, though, even conversation became exhausting, and the weight of the uncertainty started to pull us under.

When we could keep our eyes open no longer, we each lay back, letting the silence take over as we drifted into uneasy sleep.

I awoke to Gabby nudging me. “Hey, wake up,” she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. “Look.”

My eyes flickered open, and I saw it—a door, wide open, leading out of the room. We stared at it, almost too stunned to move.

“We… we can leave?” I asked, half-disbelieving.

Gabby looked equally surprised. “Apparently.”

We both sat there, motionless, just staring at the open doorway as if it were some strange mirage. Minutes ticked by, neither of us moving. It was almost comical, the way we stayed rooted in place, unsure if it was a trick.

Then, L’ Boh’s face appeared on the monitor on the wall, his expression uncharacteristically exasperated. “Well? Are you two going to sit there all day, or are you actually going to leave? The door’s open.”

Gabby shrugged, giving the camera a mischievous grin. “I don’t know. We’ve actually gotten pretty comfortable here. Maybe we’ll stay a little longer.”

I smirked, joining in on the act. “Yeah, it’s got everything we need: walls, a ceiling, some pretty decent lighting… I could get used to it.”

L’ Boh’s mouth twitched. “This is not a hotel. The test is over. Go. Walk through the door.”

We exchanged glances, both of us barely suppressing laughter. Gabby leaned back, folding her arms. “Are you sure, though? Because I feel like you still owe us an explanation. What was the point of all this?”

L’ Boh let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. If it’ll get you to leave already.” He looked back at us with his usual unnerving calm. “The point was simple: I wanted to see if you could actually understand each other. Trust each other, maybe even rely on each other, despite your differences. Cooperation isn’t just about what you can do for each other—it’s about seeing someone else’s truth.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow. “So, this was all some kind of… team-building exercise?”

“Of sorts,” L’ Boh replied, his voice laced with impatience. “I needed to know that you could find common ground. That you could connect, even when faced with nothing but your own insecurities and unknowns.”

I glanced at Gabby, who was nodding slowly, taking it all in. She turned back to the monitor, her expression more serious now. “And what about him?” She gestured to me. “What about his missing memories?”

L’ Boh’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “That… is something he’ll have to discover in time. But for now, the two of you have proven yourselves. That’s all you need to know.” His usual smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. “Now, get out of here before I change my mind.”

Gabby looked at me, her lips curving into a small smile. “Well, partner, looks like we passed the test.”

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and trepidation. “Guess we did. Ready to see what’s next?”

With one last look at the stark white room that had, oddly enough, become familiar, we walked toward the door, stepping out into whatever waited beyond.