Minjae’s face was red now, not from the rising heat but from being wrong. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it. That he, out of all people, was failing this stupid room.
“There’s no way that was wrong,” he muttered to himself, pushing back sweaty bangs as he glared at the keypad.
“You typed ‘PALM TREE,’ bro,” Minsu sighed, crouching near the first orbit. “Why would that be the answer?”
“It made sense at the moment!” Minjae snapped. “We’re on a fake island, okay? It was a good guess!”
“It’s not a vibe quiz; it’s logic,” Annie muttered, fanning herself with the edge of her shirt. Her eyes darted toward the other orbs, not one of them lit.
“We’ve had no right answer in two hours. This is ridiculous,” Ari added.
– Oh crap. They’re struggling.
– I mean—are there any clues? There isn’t any in the room.
– It’s literally a blank slate.
– There are books in front of each orb, though.
The room was stifling. The artificial temperature had now climbed to 27 degrees Celsius, but it felt much hotter under the stagnant air. There was no breeze or ventilation. It was like being wrapped in plastic wrap and left under a sunlamp.
Sweat trickled down necks, temples, and backs. Billy’s once-fluffy hair was beginning to cling to his scalp. Zeno’s white shirt had a growing patch between his shoulder blades.
And still—he hadn’t said anything.
Zeno stood in the middle of it all, completely still. Eyes scanning the room, lips sealed.
“Hey,” Minjae barked, spinning toward him. “We know you’re useless, but aren’t you going to say anything?”
Zeno didn’t look at him.
“Seriously? What, too cool to talk now?”
Still nothing.
Ari shot Minjae a glare. “Let him think.”
“Think? We’re all literally melting. He’s just standing there.”
Minjae stomped over to another light. He wiped the keypad with his sleeve and punched in RAIN.
Beep.
The temperature screen blinked.
28 degrees.
A collective groan echoed.
“I swear to god,” Minsu hissed. “Minjae, stop randomly typing things!”
“You’re making it worse!” Bacon PD added, gripping his soaked shirt in frustration.
“There aren’t even any fans,” Ari said, voice dry. “Is that allowed? Isn’t this legally a sauna now?”
“It’s just humid, not deadly,” Minsu muttered, wiping his brow. “Yet.”
Still, Zeno said nothing.
Minjae looked like he was about to snap. “Fine. Someone else do something then! We’ve got nine cryptic lights and a bunch of textbooks that don’t have anything to do with each other. I’m the only one moving, and yet you’re all complaining.”
– Oh, here it goes.
– I’m loving the drama.
– Yes, yes. Fight some more.
– Minjae is fucking annoying, though.
– What’s more annoying is Zeno. How can he not speak?
The others didn’t respond.
No one knew what to do.
They had all noticed the books. One in front of each orbit. But the books were impossibly vague—ranging from dense biology textbooks to history tomes, physics theory, abstract poetry collections, and even a French phrasebook.
And none of them were easy to read in the heat.
Another hour passed. They hadn’t tried out any other answers.
The points were down to 2,100, and it suddenly made sense why they were given 24 hours.
They continued looking for items but to no avail.
With that, at the fourth-hour mark, they could only stare at the remaining orbits, but the glow from each circle felt like a mockery now. Sweat beaded on their temples, and the air now clung to their skin like hot oil.
“I think I’ve got the next one,” Minjae said suddenly, striding toward the first orbit.
Bacon raised an eyebrow. “Based on what?”
“I don’t know, intuition?” Minjae muttered. “I feel like it’s the elements. Maybe… AIR.” He punched the letters in quickly.
Beep.
33 degrees.
Minsu rolled his eyes. “Oh great. Look, just because you want to play hero doesn’t mean you should be guessing randomly. I can try too, you know. You’re not the only one with a brain.”
“Oh, so now you wanna guess?” Minjae snapped. “Then go ahead, genius. Enlighten us.”
“Gladly.”
Minsu moved toward another orb, one with a red book in front of it, and tapped the keypad. “Let’s see… Lucy’s brutal, so maybe… BLOOD?”
Beep.
34 degrees.1
Bacon PD let out a dry laugh. “You’re all way too paranoid for people who don’t actually know the answers.”
Billy sensed the tension, so he tried to play as the peacemaker. “Let’s just… breathe. Let the orbits speak to us.”
He walked to the orange orb and typed ‘2.’
“It’s the second color on the rainbow,” he muttered.
Beep.
35 degrees.
“Wow,” Bacon PD said. “Truly revolutionary.”
– They’re all losing their patience.
– I am, too.
– What the heck do the colors even mean?
– Lucy’s going to kill them.
– Do they even have water?
“Can we just—” Billy started, trying to step between Minsu and Minjae, who were now arguing in full volume.
“You’re literally melting my brain!” Minsu yelled. “Just let me think for two seconds—”
“You had two seconds and guessed BLOOD!” Minjae shouted back.
“Guys,” Annie finally spoke, also losing patience, “maybe instead of screaming, you can try shutting up? I’m trying to figure things out.”
“You’ve been silent the whole time!” Minjae accused. “If you’ve got something, say it!”
“I am figuring it out!” Annie snapped, her composure cracking as she stormed toward another orb.
Beep.
36 degrees.
“Stop!” Ari’s voice rang out, sharp and desperate. “Everyone, stop typing! You’re just making it worse!”
But they didn’t stop. Billy was moving toward another orbit again. Minjae and Minsu looked like they were going to start throwing punches.
“I swear, this is how teams fall apart!” Billy wailed, nearly in tears. “We have to unite! Come on, guys! Think of the viewers!”
– Alright, Billy’s pretty annoying here.
– How? He’s de-escalating the situation
– He’s a crybaby. He did this last season, too, and got lucky.
– Wow, wow. Are you a Zeno fan?
Ari had enough. “You’re all acting like children! Minsu, weren’t you in the military?! You should be more careful!”
Minsu gave a tired sigh and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you should probably stick to writing fiction, Ari. That’s what you’re best at, right?”
It was meant to be a joke.
But the silence that followed was loud enough to stop the fighting.
Annie’s lips parted slightly like the wind had been knocked out of her.
Ari stood frozen, eyes glistening not with tears—but disbelief.
“Wow,” she said softly. “Thanks.”
The temperature flashed again.
37 degrees.
Someone groaned. Bacon PD was fanning his shirt uselessly. Billy had slid to the floor, his hair sticking to his cheeks.
It was hot. And the pressure wasn’t just from the temperature anymore.
Just then, the silence was broken.
Crunch.
They all turned.
“Oh, don’t mind me.”
Zeno stood leaning against the wall, munching casually on a bag of popcorn he’d somehow acquired. He tilted the bag in their direction like he was offering it to them.
“Want some?”
93.2F