We left the room, arranged in three precise lines, each representing a distinct identity: the Circle line, the Triangle line, and the Square line. Feeling that the Circle line was where I belonged, I joined it without hesitation. The air was charged with tension, and the synchronized footsteps echoed in the silence.

A man stood before us, tall and imposing. He was dressed in a pitch-black outfit and wore a strange black mask that concealed his features entirely. When he spoke, his voice was deep and enigmatic, cutting through the silence like thunder:

"I am the Front Man. You are here today because each group has a purpose. Behind me, you can see those screens. The individuals displayed on them are the reason we are gathered. Our goal is to create a fair game for them—a game governed by strict rules."

Our eyes instinctively shifted to the large screens behind him. The faces on display were unfamiliar, carrying stories we could not yet comprehend. His voice grew firmer as he continued:

"Each of you has been assigned a number. You—your number is 012."

I couldn’t respond, only feeling the weight of the number seared into my mind as if it were an indelible mark. He pressed on, his tone sharp and unyielding:

"It is forbidden to remove the mask you wear. If you do, you will be eliminated immediately. The mask is your identity now."

His words were absolute, leaving no room for doubt or defiance. We exchanged quick, silent glances, but no one dared to speak. Silence became our shared language.

Each line had a leader who stood at the forefront, guiding and directing us. The leaders were like silent shadows, their eyes concealing secrets we couldn’t decipher.

"Every line has its own path to follow," the Front Man declared. "Stay on your path. Straying from it will have consequences."

The movement began. Each of us followed our leader along the assigned path. Our steps synchronized, forming an eerie rhythm, while the solemn silence cloaked the space like a heavy fog.

We arrived at a strange underground room, resembling a vast, dark cave. The walls were rough, and the air was thick with the scent of dampness and fear. We sat in silence in front of closed doors, while our leader gestured for us to remain still and focus on the large screens mounted on the walls beside us.

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The screens showed a bizarre, eerie scene: an unfamiliar ground where people stood with their faces fully visible—no masks, only numbers displayed on their chests. The tension was palpable as all eyes were fixed on a peculiar doll standing in the center of the arena. Its features were unnatural, almost childlike, but its presence radiated an unsettling menace.

The game began. The doll stood motionless for a moment, then started to sing a strange tune—a melody reminiscent of a child’s song but laced with an ominous undertone. As the doll sang, the people on the ground began to move cautiously, trying to advance. But as soon as the doll stopped singing, it suddenly turned around.

At that moment, one person was still moving, behaving recklessly as if the rules did not matter. He approached the doll in a careless, almost playful manner. And then, it happened.

A deafening sound echoed—a gunshot, sharp and sudden. A single bullet struck the man’s head, causing his skull to explode violently. Blood and fragments splattered everywhere as if his head had been a bomb.

Panic engulfed everyone. Screams and gasps filled the air as terror gripped the room. My companions were frozen in fear, their faces pale with shock. Yet, strangely, I did not feel the same. I wasn’t scared. Instead, I felt a dark sense of enjoyment, an inexplicable thrill coursing through me.

Our leader turned to us. His movements were calm, deliberate, but his eyes behind the mask burned with a cold intensity. Just as he was about to speak, one of us abruptly stood up and removed his mask.

"I didn’t sign up for this madness!" the young man yelled, his voice trembling with anger.

But his defiance was short-lived. Another gunshot pierced the room. The leader had already raised his pistol and fired without hesitation. The bullet shattered the man’s skull, his lifeless body collapsing to the ground in a heap.

The leader’s voice cut through the silence, cold and authoritative:

"Didn’t I warn you? The rules are clear—anyone who removes their mask will be eliminated."

A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon us. No one dared to move or speak. The weight of the situation was unbearable for most, but not for me. I sat still, unnervingly calm, as if this chaos was nothing out of the ordinary.

The leader continued, his tone as merciless as before:

"Your only task is to collect the bodies and burn them as soon as the game ends."

His words hung in the air like a death sentence. We remained seated, the closed doors in front of us a barrier to the horrors beyond, while the world of terror behind them had only just begun.

Hundreds of people on the floor lay dead, their bodies scattered like broken dolls. Blood covered the ground, painting it like a macabre masterpiece of chaos. We entered the grotesque arena, the air heavy with the metallic scent of blood and death. Strangely, none of us showed any fear. No screams, no tears, not even a flinch.

As I walked among the carnage, my mind drifted to old memories. Blood was not new to me. I had always faced bullying with relentless fury. Whenever someone tried to humiliate me, I fought back—not out of desperation, but with pure, unrestrained joy.

I remember it clearly: my hands soaked in blood, my heart racing with exhilaration. There was one who pushed me too far. I grabbed a rock from the street and struck him with it, putting all my strength into each blow. The first hit knocked him down, but I didn’t stop. I kept going until his skull shattered, blood and fragments of bone splattering everywhere. People screamed, they ran, but I? I laughed.

That laugh of mine, the one so familiar, poured out of me like fire. I wasn’t weak. Do you see that? I wasn’t helpless. I was strong, strong enough to crush anyone who dared think otherwise.

Now, walking among the corpses here, I felt the same calmness. The same thrill. The same laugh threatening to escape my lips. Perhaps, in this place, I had finally found my kind.