Chapter 1

A heavy silence, like a taut veil, enfolded the space. Anna opened her eyes, but at first she could not focus: the light seemed too soft, almost mist-like. Slowly her vision cleared, and she realized she was lying on a bed covered with a smooth, snow-white spread. The mattress beneath her back was firm yet not hard, as though chosen with deliberate care for the sake of comfort.

Her gaze drifted across the room. Blue walls with a muted sheen framed the space, evoking a strange blend of coziness and menace. The ceiling rose high above, its surface resembling frosted glass, from which a gentle light poured. It illuminated everything evenly, casting no shadows, lending the room a sterile, almost artificial quality.

Beside the bed stood a small metal table, bare except for a glass of water. Every bed had its twin: the same table, the same glass. The floor, made of polished material, gleamed like a dark mirror, reflecting blurred silhouettes.

Anna sat up, her feet slipping onto the floor, and at the touch of its cool surface, her body shuddered involuntarily. She drew a deeper breath, but the air lodged coldly in her throat, reminding her that this place was not merely unfamiliar. It was alien. Unreal.

A rustle at her side made her turn.

Olga had awakened. Her movement was sharp, like that of someone long accustomed to being alert. She sat up at once, ran her hand through dark hair, and swept her eyes quickly across the room, assessing. Her face remained calm yet taut, like a beast poised to strike.

– Where are we? – she asked, her voice rough but firm. It tore through the silence, only to be swallowed by the walls.

Without waiting for an answer, Olga rose and strode toward the door. Her heels tapped softly on the floor. Bending down, she ran her palm along its rough surface, as though searching for hidden locks.

Anna said nothing. She only watched as Olga continued her inspection of the room.

Another sound – barely audible, like a sigh.

Katya opened her eyes and slowly turned her head. Her face showed a mixture of wonder and fear. As soon as she sat up, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if shielding against some invisible threat.

– Is this… a dream? she whispered, so faintly it almost went unheard.

Katya dared not rise. She looked at Anna, then at Olga, but found only silence in return. Her body trembled, and she remained hunched in a tight knot.

A quiet knock drew the others’ attention.

Igor was awake now. Like the rest, his movements were unhurried, measured, as though giving himself time to absorb the situation. Concentration was etched on his face, though his lips pressed tightly together betrayed the effort to mask emotion.

– We are not here by chance, – he pronounced, standing at the edge of his bed.

His gaze swept the room, lingering on the door, then on each of them in turn. Approaching the wall, he laid his hand against it, then tapped his fingers.

– This isn’t concrete, – he muttered under his breath.

Vadim woke next. His rising was abrupt, almost aggressive. He sat up at once, glanced around, and smirked, as if already annoyed by the entire spectacle.

– So, where are the clowns with the applause? – he scoffed, standing.

His voice carried a hard edge of sarcasm, placing him above the others by tone alone. He strode to the door and shoved it with his shoulder, but it did not budge.

– Perfect. So we’re locked in.

The last to stir was Artyom. His waking was the most serene: he stretched, yawned, and smiled, as though he’d found himself in a luxury hotel rather than a strange chamber.

– Well now, what’s this? Premium suite? – he asked with feigned ease.

He glanced around at the others, scratched his head, and gave a low whistle.

– So? Does anyone know where we are—or how we get out?

His smile was wide, yet slightly strained, as though even he did not believe in his own calmness.

The room sank once more into tense silence. Six strangers, six pairs of eyes, all filled with incomprehension. The air thickened, each breath taken with effort.

The chamber was large and square, but its spaciousness brought no relief. On the contrary, its strict symmetry was oppressive: three beds lined each of two opposing walls. Between them stood the room’s centerpiece—an enormous, opulent bed with a velvet headboard that shimmered under the soft matte light from the ceiling. The bedding looked decadent: a heavy satin cover of deep crimson and pillows arranged as though not for one occupant, but an entire entourage.

Anna cast the bed a fleeting glance but recoiled from its excess. It struck her as alien, almost ominous, like a throne awaiting some unknown ruler in an empty hall.

One corner of the room seemed torn from ordinary domestic life: a small fridge with a mirrored door, compact kitchen cabinets, a built-in stove. A little farther, a spotless microwave gleamed, pristine as though untouched by human hands. Everything was too orderly, like a showroom—devoid of life.

In the opposite corner stood its counterpoint: a lavish bar. Shelves of dark, expensive wood, lit with a golden glow, bore rows of bottles whose labels spoke of wealth—cognacs and whiskies worthy of elite collections. Each bottle seemed handpicked for a refined connoisseur. At the bar’s center stood a decanter filled with an amber liquid, beside it several crystal-clear glasses.

Another door loomed at the far wall. Its surface was plain, save for a slim matte handle. It seemed the only hint at escape, yet Anna knew—there would be no way out beyond it.

Olga was the first to check. She approached, opened it with slow, deliberate motion, and peered inside.

– Bathroom and toilet,” she announced, wrinkling her nose slightly.

The space beyond was as sterile and scrubbed as the room itself. White tiles, immaculate fixtures, a neat set of soaps and towels folded with an artificial precision.

– Not much, – Vadim muttered, glancing in with disinterest.

Artyom, eyes fixed on the bar, chuckled.

– Ah, but well stocked on spirits, – he quipped, nodding at the bottles. – A godly selection.

Anna felt the air grow heavier once more. Everything here was both luxurious and unsettling. The place seemed designed to lull attention and cloud the mind.

Six people. Six beds. And the sumptuous bed in the center, beckoning – as if holding the promise of answers. Yet they all sensed that behind such ostentation lay something far more dangerous.

Anna remained on the edge of her bed, silent. Her eyes, hidden beneath strands of fair hair, studied the others’ every movement. Silence was her refuge; it helped her discern who among them might prove a threat.

Olga, by contrast, wasted no time. She approached the door, examining it with the keen eye of an engineer inspecting a mechanism. Her slender fingers glided over its smooth surface, searching for flaws invisible to sight.

– There has to be some control panel, – she said with certainty, as though she knew. – Doors like this aren’t made simple.”

She stepped back, squinted, as if seeking faint lines. Her movements were precise, deliberate—the gestures of someone used to command.

– We’re not going to just sit and wait, – Olga added, her tone brooking no refusal.

Katya clung closer to Artyom, as though he alone might shield her from what lurked behind these blue walls.

– What is this, do you think? – she asked softly, her eyes on him with childlike hope.

Artyom smiled, tilting his head.

– Just another quest, – he answered with forced lightness, though his eyes were tight.

Katya nodded, eager to believe him. Her hands clenched together, and she cast furtive glances at the others, trust withheld.

Igor stepped forward, standing near Olga. Outwardly calm, yet his eyes betrayed unease.

– Let’s steady ourselves, – he said firmly, his voice loud enough for all to hear. – Panic won’t help. We need to assess what we have.

He gestured toward the kitchen, then the bar, as if to show that the room was stocked for survival.

– Clearly, this place wasn’t built to destroy us. At least—not yet.

His words hung heavy, sparking mixed reactions.

– Rational approach, really? – Vadim’s dry voice cut in.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression a blend of boredom and disdain.

– We’re trapped. What difference does it make why? No one’s letting us out.

His cynicism sent a ripple of fear through Katya, while Olga frowned sharply.

– Great attitude, – she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. – Prefer to sit around waiting for the door to open itself?

– Why not? – Vadim shrugged, smirking. – Maybe they’ll feed us soon.

– Hey, hey—easy, – Artyom interjected, raising his hands as if to break up an invisible fight. His voice carried forced cheer, though tension lingered in it. – We’ve got a bar, fine beds. Maybe this is just a relaxation test. Like, ‘rest while you can.’

He winked at Katya, but no one smiled. His attempt at levity fell flat—the air in the room grew thick with strain.

Anna, still silent, noticed their eyes turning once more to the door. Her heart quickened. The door alone broke the room’s perfection, yet she knew—there was no answer waiting beyond it.

As she remained watchful, Olga turned back to the group.

– I think we should start simple, – she said, her tone leaving no room for dissent. – At least share our names.

– What’s the point? – Vadim snorted, sprawling onto the nearest bed. – Does it matter?

Olga whipped around, her gaze searing.

– It matters because we can’t get anywhere if we sit mute like children, – she snapped.

Vadim smirked, lips curling in mocking amusement.

– Fine. If it makes you feel better… Vadim. Lawyer. And yes, I’d also like to know when dinner is served.

Olga ignored the barb, pressing her lips together.

– Olga, – she said. – Now the rest of you.

– Anna, – Anna answered briefly, still seated.

– Katya, – came the trembling voice of the girl, who remained close to Artyom, seeking solace in his manner.

– Artyom, – he chimed in brightly, giving a small nod. – Just Artyom.

All eyes turned to Igor, who straightened as if gathering himself.

– Igor, he said calmly. – Programmer.