Henry followed the woman quietly, just like the others. They briskly followed No. 3 into the lone building standing in the middle of the deserted meadow.
Now that he could see her from behind, he realized that the fear he had felt before had stopped him from noticing her feminine figure.
Then, for some reason, Anna came to mind.
The girl from the train.
Maybe the women were alright... or perhaps they had gone through their own ordeal.
Whatever the case, his main focus was on No. 3.
She was clearly someone who wasn't to be taken lightly.
The moment they entered the old building, everyone noticed the stark difference between its exterior and interior.
The place looked nothing like it had from the outside.
Lined along the walls were yellow tracksuits, each one marked with a number.
Henry froze.
No. 3 turned toward them.
"Pick one. Hurry."
Henry wanted to obey her immediately, but then he noticed something.
There were numbers on the backs of the tracksuits.
There were seven tracksuits.
The last one was probably intended for Theo.
That reminded Henry of something.
They were constantly being watched.
Even now, as the sun slowly began to rise, someone—or something—was watching them.
He looked at the numbers.
Without a second thought, he reached for the tracksuit marked 47.
After picking their tracksuits, they stood silently.
Were they supposed to strip down and change in front of her?
As if reading their minds, she suddenly spoke.
"Wear it."
Without waiting, the six men immediately obeyed.
Had they never thought about simply attacking her and disarming her?
They had.
But the consequences of doing so outweighed the small victory they might gain.
Taking off their disgusting clothes, they put on the tracksuits.
Then, to their horror, another gunshot rang through the room.
BANG!
Josh collapsed.
The others froze.
They were practically like chickens being led to slaughter.
Then she spoke.
"He wore my favourite number, you see."
Henry swallowed hard, feeling the palpable tension in the room.
"You know... six... seven."
She giggled.
Henry slowly turned toward Josh.
There it was.
67.
The number on his back.
Henry could feel his heart beating throughout his entire body.
Had the Chair allowed this?
Or was No. 3 simply allowed to do whatever she wanted?
She turned to leave, then stopped.
"Oh, and..."
She looked directly at Mark.
"Don't let it get to your head. You're merely a pawn in a game."
She smiled faintly.
"The Fifth is known for having short interests."
"Oh, and Henry, darling..."
She paused and glanced back at him.
"The Second Chair has his eyes on you."
With that, she turned and walked toward the exit.
Outside, the jeep was waiting for her.
This time, its headlights off.
The five were now left inside the room.
It was completely blank, filled with an almost blinding white light. Apart from the yellow jumpsuits that had been there, the only things in the room were seven chairs.
Seven chairs.
But only five people remained.
For several minutes, they simply stood there.
Henry looked around.
There were no doors. No other rooms. Just one room, surrounded by walls and extreme lighting.
Was this some sort of checkpoint?
Then a voice echoed through the quiet room.
Everyone froze.
There was absolutely nothing in sight that could have produced the sound.
"Sit."
Like automated robots, all five men immediately sat down.
A moment later, the wall in front of them flickered to life.
Words appeared across the screen.
CONGRATULATIONS.
YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF STAGE ONE.
Then, like a movie, the screen began to play.
That's when they saw it.
The footage showed each and every one of them on the train.
It showed the exact moment they entered.
Every movement.
Every conversation.
Right up until the moment the train stopped and No. 2 appeared before them.
They watched in silence.
Then it dawned on them.
They weren't simply survivors.
They were characters in some kind of game.
And the Chairs...
They were watching them.
The unsettling realization settled deep within them.
They were being watched.
Then the footage changed.
It showed each of them again, this time during their escape from the bullets.
Henry watched closely.
Something felt wrong.
The footage seemed almost hellbent on highlighting their most despicable actions.
Mark throwing a man into the path of the bullets to save himself.
Liam using dead bodies as cover.
One by one, the worst moments were shown again.
Henry's eyes narrowed.
They were trying to sow distrust among them.
This wasn't just a recording of what had happened.
Whoever had made this wanted them to see each other differently.
Wanted them to remember what the others had done.
And judging by the silence in the room, it was already working.
Perhaps that was the point.
To make each of them aware of what the others were capable of.
Even comrades who had known each other for years would begin to question one another after seeing something like this.
But this group?
They had barely known each other for a day.
How long would it take before they started looking at one another differently?
Then the footage moved on to their time in the forest.
Henry's uneasiness deepened.
The camera's point of view was the most concerning part.
They had been deep in a forest where their direction could change at any moment. They had taken different paths, gotten lost, and moved through places where they could barely see a few metres ahead.
Yet somehow, the camera had captured everything.
Every turn.
Every argument.
Every moment they thought they were alone.
Henry stared at the screen.
How?
There was no way a single camera could have followed them through all of that.
Whatever was watching them wasn't simply recording.
It was everywhere.
With five pairs of eyes fixed on the screen, the footage continued.
Then, exactly when the bees had separated them, the screen split into two.
Both sides showed their respective groups.
They watched themselves struggle through the forest, completely unaware that they were being recorded.
Then the footage reached the moment Malik died.Their stomachs churned as they watched.
No one said a word.
Then, to drop the bomb on them, they saw it.
The exact moment Mark was given the information he had cherished so dearly.
The room fell completely silent.
Henry slowly turned toward Mark.
So did the others.
For the first time, they had proof that Mark had known something all along.
He had been separated from the group.
Then, as if the entire encounter had already been orchestrated, something appeared on the screen.
A robotic parrot.
A piece of paper hung from its beak.
The strange machine turned toward Mark.
"From the Fifth," it said in a monotone voice.
The footage focused on Mark's reaction.
The excitement.
The greed.
The way his expression changed as he took the information.
Henry watched closely.
This time, he wasn't sure anyone in the room would look at Mark the same way again.