now m only a name on a list

When the door opened this time, the doctor was not alone. Behind him stood two men in white coats, their expressions as rigid as statues. One of them gestured for him to stand without uttering a word.

Triton did not move. He felt the air in the room grow heavier, as if the walls themselves were watching him. But in the end, he stood up—because refusing orders here was not an option.

The metallic doors slid open with a low mechanical hum, revealing another corridor—identical to the one before it. The walls were gray, devoid of any detail. The dim lights gave the place a cold atmosphere, making it feel like a part of a laboratory… or a futuristic prison.

Triton did not ask where they were taking him. He knew they wouldn't answer. The doctors only spoke when they wanted to, and when they did, their words were always wrapped in mystery and suspicion.

He walked between the two men in white coats, their steps quiet but careful, as if they were leading him somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. There was no sign of the other patients he had heard about—no sound, except for the distant echo of their footsteps against the metallic floor.

Then, finally, they stopped in front of a door different from the rest. It was not gray. It was a pure, stark white—like a barrier between two worlds.

One of the men swiped a key card. The door opened slowly.

The Hall of Silence

What lay beyond was not what he had expected.

A vast hall, its ceiling unnaturally high. The walls were smooth—no windows, no decorations, nothing to distract the eye. But the strangest thing was not the room itself… it was the people inside.

Dozens of people—men and women—sat on precisely arranged metal chairs. All of them were silent. All of them stared into emptiness.

There was no whispering.

No fidgeting.

No sign of life at all.

Triton didn't move. His gaze swept across the hall, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Were these patients? Why were they here? Why this unnatural silence?

And then—amidst all the confusion—he saw something that shattered his composure.

Among the seated figures, surrounded by all these lifeless adults… was a little girl.

She wasn't just any girl.

He knew her.

Or… he thought he did.

But that wasn't possible.

His sister.

She sat there, her feet swinging slightly, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her gaze just as vacant as the others. But she was here—a twelve-year-old girl. Yet he was certain…

She wasn't twelve.

She was seventeen.

She had been seventeen the last time he saw her.

Before he woke up in this place.

Triton didn't move. He didn't rush toward her. He didn't call her name.

He did nothing.

His feet felt like they had sunk into the floor, rooted in place.

His mind raced, scrambling for a logical explanation. But there was no logic.

If she was here… and younger than he remembered her… what did that mean?

He turned slightly, his eyes shifting to the doctors standing by the door. They weren't looking at him. They were observing the hall—as if this was nothing unusual.

He took a slow, deep breath. Then, cautiously, he stepped forward.

He chose an empty seat and sat down.

His body remained tense, but he did not show it.

Around him, no one moved. No one whispered. There was nothing but the suffocating weight of silence, as if it had become part of the very walls.

From the corner of his eye, he watched the girl.

She had not acknowledged him. Or perhaps she had—but chose not to react.

He tried to look away.

He couldn't.

She looked real. But she couldn't be.

Minutes passed. Maybe more. He wasn't sure.

Then, suddenly, something shattered the oppressive stillness.

Another door—on the opposite side of the hall—slid open with a soft hiss.

Someone entered.

A man in a white coat, like the doctors, but his presence was different. There was something sharper about him—an authority in his posture, a cold precision in his gaze, as if he was calculating everything in the room.

He stopped in the center, pulled a small paper from his pocket, and began reading names.

The first name was called.

A man stood up without hesitation and walked toward him.

Then another name.

Another person stood—walking in the same lifeless rhythm, as if they were hypnotized.

Triton had no idea what was happening.

But he knew one thing.

Something was terribly wrong.

And he needed to figure out the truth—before his name was called.

The Unspoken Rule

Triton sat motionless, his back straight, his mind in turmoil.

He watched as one by one, the names were called.

One by one, people rose—walking toward the door with slow, robotic steps, vanishing beyond it.

No one hesitated.

No one resisted.

It was as if they already knew what was waiting for them.

He tried not to think about his sister.

He tried to keep his eyes off her.

But he couldn't.

She sat there, silent as the rest, her small hands resting on her lap, her gaze lost in a distant void.

Was she really his sister? Or was this place playing tricks on him again?

He replayed memories in his head—she was seventeen. She laughed a lot. She used to argue with him over the most trivial things.

And now…

The next name was called.

A young woman stood up and walked toward the door without looking back.

Then another.

Something deep inside Triton screamed at him. Move. Leave. Now.

But his legs wouldn't move.

Then—

"Triton."

His name was spoken.

It struck his mind like a hammer—loud despite the quiet tone in which it was uttered.

He did not stand.

A second passed.

Then another.

The doctor's eyes landed on him directly.

"Triton."

The voice came again, soft yet carrying the weight of an undeniable command.

And then, the worst part.

He could feel the eyes.

Not just the doctor's.

Everyone's.

Without turning his head, he knew—they were all looking at him now.

His hands clenched into fists. His breath came slow and controlled.

Then, he stood.

Not because he wanted to.

But because he had no other choice.

Step by step, he moved toward the man.

He passed his sister. He didn't look at her.

But… for a fraction of a second—just the briefest of moments—he thought he saw her fingers move.

Slightly. Barely noticeable.

Triton didn't know if it was real.

Or just another trick of this place.

The Unknown Passage

When he stepped through the door, he felt it instantly.

The air changed.

It was colder. Heavier. As if each breath took more effort.

The corridor they entered was lined with bright white lights, the floor made of the same cold metal. But the walls…

The walls were different.

Not blank. Not empty.

They were covered in something unsettling.

Screens.

But they didn't show images.

They weren't playing videos.

Instead, they were filled with endless sequences of numbers—changing too fast to comprehend, shifting constantly as if recording something invisible.

The others ahead of him didn't look at them.

They walked forward, eyes fixed straight ahead.

But Triton…

He couldn't ignore them.

Something about those numbers felt… wrong.

His fingers twitched with an unconscious urge—to reach out, to touch, to decipher—

A voice interrupted him.

"Keep walking."

Triton turned slightly.

A doctor.

Not the one who called his name—another man in white, his gaze sharp and watchful.

Triton swallowed his questions.

Now wasn't the time.

He needed to survive first.

And then—he would find out the truth.

After several minutes, they stopped in front of another massive door.

The man leading them didn't speak. He simply swiped his card, and the door slowly opened, revealing another room.

But this time… it wasn't a cold room.

It was filled with dim red light… and whispers.

The Red Room

They entered one by one.

The room was unlike anything else Triton had seen in this place. It wasn't gray. It wasn't cold. The walls were covered with glass panels, and behind them, shadows moved. Whispered voices echoed from every direction, as if people were standing just beyond the glass, watching from within.

In the center of the room, several metal chairs were arranged in a perfect circle.

One by one, everyone sat down.

Triton wasn't sure if he should sit, but he did as the others did.

What is happening here?

There were no doctors in the room.

No one to explain anything.

Then, after a few moments, the lights went out…

And darkness swallowed the room.

Then… the voices began to speak.