Akio's voice was a hoarse whisper, barely piercing the oppressive silence. His face was chalk-white, eyes wide with terror as he stared at the grotesque images sprawled across the documents. Each ragged breath was a desperate struggle against the suffocating dread that gripped his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, rolling down his temples like teardrops of despair. His body felt paralyzed, fighting to comprehend the horror before him.

The documents on the table depicted a macabre gallery of human suffering. One image showed a woman with her skin peeled away, revealing raw, exposed flesh. Her vacant eyes seemed to scream a silent agony. Another photograph captured a shirtless man, his body covered in ominous black tattoos, slumped against a wall with a look of resigned despair. The most chilling image was of children in white patient gowns, their frail forms shuffling toward a shadowy, indistinct room, their fear almost palpable through the static of the photograph.

The dim, flickering light of the bunker barely pierced the darkness, casting elongated, writhing shadows on the walls that pulsed with malevolence. The musty stench of mildew and decay pervaded the air, wrapping around the group like an unwelcome shroud.

Jiyu, his bright yellow hair faintly glowing in the weak light, approached Akio. His expression was serious yet tinged with frustration. "Do you believe me now?" His voice was laced with a mix of exasperation and gravity. "This place is a living nightmare. What we've seen is just the surface."

Overwhelmed, Akio sank to the floor beside the table, his disheveled curls falling into his face as he clutched his head, trembling uncontrollably. A guttural cry of anguish escaped him, reverberating off the walls. "What is this place? Who are these people? Why is this happening to us?" His voice cracked with raw, unfiltered despair, echoing the depth of his helplessness.

The others in the room watched in stunned silence. Their faces mirrored a spectrum of emotions—from concern to shock. Miyu, the small girl with tousled brown hair, tried to stifle her sobs, her body shaking with silent, heart-wrenching tremors. The rest of the group wore expressions of dismay, their eyes either downcast or filled with sympathetic unease.

Haruka, her bright yellow hair stark against the gloom, stood abruptly. Her face was a tempest of fury and frustration. Without a word, she seized Akio's hoodie and delivered a sharp slap across his face. The sound echoed through the bunker, silencing the room with its jarring clarity.

"DO YOU WANT TO GET US CAUGHT?" Haruka's voice sliced through the tense silence, fierce and unforgiving. "All this crying—what's it going to achieve? There's a child here! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

Akio's sobs ceased abruptly. He stared blankly, his eyes hollow and reflecting the dim light, his tears stark against his shattered composure.

Before Haruka could continue, a pillow flew through the air, hitting her squarely on the head. The culprit, Yukito, emerged from his sleeping bag with a yawn. His white hair and pale skin seemed to merge with the background. "Shut up, you brat," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as though only half-awake. "Some of us are trying to sleep. Your noise is just as disruptive."

Stolen story; please report.

Haruka's eyes flared with anger, and she stormed over to Yukito. "What did you just say? Do you have any idea who you're talking to? I'm older than you, you—"

Yukito, unfazed, turned his head away, casually cleaning his ear with his pinky, his demeanor one of detached indifference.

Fuming, Haruka spun around and marched over to Jiyu, who observed the entire scene with a bemused smirk.

"Jiyuuuu!" she wailed, her voice a mix of exaggerated sadness and frustration. "Look at what they've done to me! They humiliated me!"

Ayame, silently observing the chaos, finally spoke with dry humor. "Look who's crying now," she remarked, her tone dripping with irony.

Haruka's emotions shifted rapidly from tears to rage. She whirled around to face Ayame. "What did you say? Do you want to fight me, huh?"

Jiyu, his patience wearing thin, interjected with a calm but firm tone. "Everyone, settle down. Akio, are you ready to hear the truth, or do you need more time to process this?"

Akio, head bowed, stood up slowly. His voice, though steady, was weighed down by resignation. "Tell me everything."

"Alright," Jiyu said with a reassuring smile. "Ayame, could you give us the rundown, please?"

Ayame, her sharp pink eyes serious, moved to the center table. She wore a white button-up shirt tucked into a knee-length black skirt, her hair pulled back with a stubborn strand falling across her face. She gathered the scattered files from the floor, arranging them with deliberate care.

"Most of us already understand why we're here from the files," Ayame began, her tone resolute. "This is no ordinary hospital. We're being experimented on and killed. This bunker, abandoned by those who tried to escape before us, is our prison. How Jiyu managed to get the map here is a mystery, but for now, it's irrelevant. Each of us was selected for our unique skills. Take Miyu, for instance." She gestured toward the little girl with brown hair and eyes, who fidgeted nervously. "She might look fragile, but she's adept at pickpocketing."

Her gaze swept over the group. "Our goal is to find a way out of this hellhole. Any questions?"

The guy with the orange hair and blue eyes, Akito, adjusted his blue glasses nervously. "Uhmm, h.. how do you expect us to even escape this place?" His voice trembled as he adjusted his glasses.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I couldn't hear you," Ayame said, leaning closer.

He began shaking, his breathing growing heavier as he sought to hide his trembling hands and avoid making eye contact. He managed a louder, strained voice, "C-can we even escape this place?"

Ayame stood tall, her soft smile and gentle tone offering reassurance. "I don't know for sure, but I believe we can."

Akito sat down, wiping sweat from his face with his clothes as he looked down, his shaking subsiding. "Darn it, why couldn't I say what I felt even after practicing it in my mind? Why was I so scared?"

The muscular guy, Kaito, sitting with his legs and arms spread comfortably, his brown eyes twinkling and his brown hair oiled back, stood up with a deep, contented sigh. The soft crackle of his joints settling into place mingled with his relieved exhalation.

"Since I haven't said anything yet, my questions will go to Jiyu."

As everyone's attention shifted to the two of them, Akio had already calmed down and was watching attentively, his eyes reflecting a glint of hope amid his disheveled hair.

Jiyu, his expression gentle, stood up and gestured for Kaito to continue. "Go on.