It was 3 a.m. when the siren pierced the silence of New Wales City.
The street was deserted, save for shadows dancing on rain-soaked sidewalks, and fog crawling along the ground like a soul escaping from hell.
The stillness of the night was shattered by the sound of a single siren—but it wasn't an ordinary one. Its tone was strange, broken, like a funeral melody.
On the fourth floor of a partially abandoned hotel, Caleb Norman sat on a battered chair in front of a wobbly wooden desk. The room was lit by a single dangling lightbulb, swaying gently with each breeze, emitting a low hum like death's final breath.
Caleb stared at the thick paper laid before him. It was printed in dark red ink.
It read:
> "Congratulations... You've been chosen as the first victim of the show."
He sighed, wiping his trembling hand across his face. In the corner of the room stood an old TV set from the 1980s. It wasn't plugged in—
Yet it turned on.
The screen flickered to life, revealing a man wearing a plain white mask, devoid of features. Behind him: a black curtain and red velvet chairs.
The man spoke in a distorted voice:
"Good morning, Caleb. I hope you slept well... because today might be your last. Or the beginning of your survival. That depends on you."
Caleb recoiled slightly, his voice raspy:
— "Who are you? What is this?"
The masked man appeared to smile—at least, that's what Caleb thought—and replied:
"You are now on the stage. The show has already begun. Everyone watching, and everyone about to watch, is waiting for your performance. Before you are three choices… each leads to death. But only one leads to life."
Suddenly, three cards appeared on the table:
One showed a key, the second a broken clock, and the third a human eye.
— "Choose," the masked voice said.
Caleb, shaking and confused, stared at the cards.
— "What do these symbols mean?"
The voice answered:
"A simple riddle: the key opens nothing, the clock tells no time, and the eye sees no one… Which one leads to survival?"
Caleb took a deep breath, thinking hard.
— "The key is deception… the clock implies time doesn't matter here… but the eye—maybe it's his eye? Or the audience's?"
He slowly reached for the eye card.
The moment he touched it, the light went out. The room shook.
Then—silence.
Ten seconds passed.
The light flickered back on.
The cards were gone.
Written in blood on the wall:
> "One step closer to survival… or a step toward your end, star of the show."
Elsewhere in the city, Anna Fire, a new detective in the Department of Mysterious Crimes, received a call.
— "We have a case, ma'am. An apartment turned into a theater... No body, no witnesses, nothing. Just blood—and messages."
— "A theater? What kind?"
— "A full-on stage: audience chairs, curtains, even background music. And the strange part… everything looks too real."
— "Send me the address. I'm on my way."
---
Anna arrived at the scene. Police officers stood pale-faced in the hallway.
She entered… and saw a nightmare.
The living room had been turned into a miniature theater. Rows of chairs all faced a stage.
Suspended from the ceiling—was a figure tied by ropes.
But it wasn't a body. It was a dummy.
Yet the blood covering the floor… was all too real.
Anna approached the stage.
At the foot of the dummy, an envelope.
She opened it. Inside: a handwritten note.
> "The show doesn't begin without an audience… and the audience only sees the truth when pain is delivered scene after scene."
She stared at the letter, then at the stage, and whispered:
— "This isn't a killer… this is a deranged playwright."
Then loudly:
— "I want a DNA analysis of this blood. Dust for prints on every seat. And find out who accessed this building in the past two days."
One officer replied:
— "The strange thing is… the security footage shows no one entering. It's as if the place was sealed shut until tonight."
— "That's impossible. This isn't just a crime scene. This is a theatrical slaughter."
Just then, Anna's phone buzzed.
A message. Unknown number.
> "If you want to save him… solve this riddle: In the city of the dead, there is a wall you cannot see. Enter it once, and you'll never escape…
Unless you speak its name before you turn around. What is it?"
Anna gasped. Someone was orchestrating this.
---
Back in the hotel, Caleb heard a scratching noise coming from the wall.
A section of it slid open, revealing a long corridor bathed in pale blue light.
At the end… a mirror.
He approached cautiously and looked into it.
But his reflection wasn't there.
Instead, another man stood.
Same mask. Same cold gaze.
A voice spoke behind him:
"In every show… there is a hero. But in this show, the hero is the enemy.
And your enemy… is your reflection."
Caleb spun around.
No one.
In the mirror…
his face began to melt away
At the police station, Anna sat in silence, then muttered:
— "City of the dead… an invisible wall… you never leave unless you say its name before turning around?"
She paused.
— "It's… regret. Yes. Regret is the unseen wall."
She texted back:
> "Regret."
Seconds later, another reply came:
> "Correct answer…
You've earned another scene. Watch the TV at midnight."
Anna's heart sank.
The game had begun.
And the director… wasn't playing.
The next victim… might be her.