Breath To Last
The water had nearly reached the ceiling.
Orion's lungs burned as he forced himself to stay calm, his body pressed against the cold, metallic surface of the container. His breaths were shallow, each one harder than the last. The small gap of air left at the top of the room was rapidly shrinking, and soon, there would be nothing left.
Around him, the other candidates were struggling just as much. Some clung to the walls, pressing their faces up to the last few inches of space, their eyes darting around in pure desperation. Others had started to panic, their bodies thrashing as the reality of the situation sank in.
They were trapped.
Orion gritted his teeth, forcing himself to think. There had to be a way out. The trial wasn't designed to outright kill them. There had to be something they were missing.
Then, suddenly—
A sharp movement caught his eye.
The same guy who had told them to search for vents earlier was now frantically waving his arms, trying to grab everyone's attention. His gestures were rushed but deliberate.
Orion locked eyes with him, trying to decipher his message.
The guy pointed toward the bathroom area.
Then, with exaggerated motions, he reached up and twisted something above his head.
A second later, tiny bubbles floated up from the ceiling.
Orion's breath caught. What the hell?
Then it clicked.
Sprinkler caps.
Not air vents—just a simple sprinkler system.
His pulse spiked.
They weren't designed to provide oxygen, but there was still air trapped inside the pipes.
Without wasting another second, Orion pushed himself upward. His arms cut through the water as he reached the nearest sprinkler cap, fingers fumbling against the cold metal. His chest tightened from the lack of oxygen, but he forced himself to focus.
With a sharp twist, the cap came loose.
A thin stream of stale air escaped from the opening. It wasn't much—barely anything, really. But right now, it was everything.
Orion latched his mouth onto the opening, inhaling deeply.
The air tasted awful—stagnant, metallic, slightly damp. But it was oxygen.
And that was all that mattered.
Around him, the others had started doing the same. Some hesitated at first, their hands shaking as they reached for the nearest sprinkler cap. But once they saw Orion and the other guy breathing through them, they followed suit.
A few people even passed their sprinklers to those who were struggling, making sure no one was left behind.
For a brief moment, it seemed like they had bought themselves some time.
But it wasn't enough.
Some of the candidates were already losing their grip. Their movements had slowed, their eyes flickering between consciousness and unconsciousness. The lack of proper oxygen was catching up. Their bodies were failing.
Orion clenched his jaw. This is temporary. We still need a way out.
His gaze darted across the room, searching for anything—any detail that stood out.
Then, his eyes landed on the clock.
3:05:45
It kept ticking.
And beside it, the word "SLEEP" was still displayed.
Orion's brow furrowed.
That word had been there since the beginning.
It wasn't random. It meant something.
A thought struck him.
His head snapped directly below the timer at the far end of the room
The mirror.
It had been perfectly clean since the moment they arrived—too clean. No condensation, no streaks, nothing. It was flawless.
His breath hitched.
It had to be a one-way mirror.
His mind was racing. If it's a one-way mirror, that means there's something on the other side.
Something—or someone.
His fingers curled into a fist.
This was it.
Orion turned sharply, locking eyes with the guy who had figured out the sprinklers. His face was pale, his chest rising and falling in quick, sharp bursts.
Orion raised his hand, signaling him to watch.
Then, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with whatever air he could manage—and swam.
His arms cut through the water, his legs kicking against the floor for momentum. His body felt heavy, exhaustion clawing at his limbs, but he forced himself forward.
The mirror loomed ahead.
Orion reached out—
And then—