Weed Guy

Isamu looked around, more and more players coming out to the hallway. The tension was palpable as the murmurs of worried conversations filled the air. Dim lighting flickered above, casting jagged shadows on the walls, while the stale scent of sweat and fear hung heavily.

"Don't use the fire escape route now, let's use the main stairway with the rest of them," he whispered, his voice only audible to his friends in the murmuring crowd in the hallway.

They nodded and began heading back down. The descent was stuffy and uncomfortable, the narrow stairwell feeling even more oppressive with the sheer number of players crammed inside. Heat radiated off the packed bodies, making it hard to breathe.

Back in the lobby, standing by the pillar once again, Isamu took a joint out of his pocket, lit it, and took a slow drag. The acrid smoke curled upward, momentarily masking the unpleasant smells surrounding them.