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[The sound of an alarm clock.]
Wait... this isn't the sound that used to wake me up every morning. It feels different—somehow unfamiliar.
I open my eyes reluctantly and lie still, my gaze fixed on the same spot above me. That in-between moment when your brain is slowly booting up, struggling to reconnect with your body... Yeah, I think I'm stuck right there.
I finally blink and sit up slowly.The ceiling looks unfamiliar, but I don't register it yet. Everything feels... too quiet, too clean.
Only when I swing my legs off the bed and my feet touch the cold floor do I get the first real realization—this isn't my room. It looks like it could be, but it's not. The angles are off. The colors too sharp. The air smells... sterile.
Finally, I realize that it's not my room. Mine used to be a bit messy but comfortable. This one is too clean... too accurate. Like everything is placed perfectly, as if someone tried to recreate a room from memory—but missed the feeling.
I glance at the alarm clock. It's completely different—definitely not mine. That's when it hits me: the unfamiliar sound... that's why I woke up. It was never my alarm in the first place.
With confusion and so many questions in my mind, I step out of the room, heading to meet my family like I always do. But to my surprise, a completely different view hits me.
It's not even a home. Strangers around ny age—dressed just like me—are rushing around. We're all wearing the same pajamas. Even more confused, I stay frozen in place, silently staring at everything around me.
People keep rushing around and past me. Some are in shock, just like I am. Others are talking to their peers, trying to make sense of everything. A few wander with confused expressions, asking questions—probably about what's going on. No one looks happy or satisfied. I get the feeling that everyone here is new... and none of us knows how we ended up in this place.
The place is unbelievably huge and filled with light. From the edge of the floor, I can tell I'm not on the first level—I'm standing much higher. It's a massive building with countless floors, all circling around a wide open space in the center. Through that blank space, we can look down and see just how high up we are. The edges of each floor are lined with sleek fences, like the ones in shopping malls. The whole place looks modern—almost too perfect to feel real.
After a moment, a loud notification cut through the chaos.
[deen deen]
"Students, you must gather on the first floor. In exactly seven minutes, everyone in the building must be lined up downstairs."
While we exchange confused glances, a large number of people begin gathering downstairs. Looking over the edge, I can see around half a thousand students piling up on the first floor. The building is so massive, it could easily hold ten times that number—just on the general floor alone. Not wanting to waste another minute, we all start glancing around, hoping to find a lift or stairs.
We quickly realize there are enough lifts and stairs for everyone. Despite the crowd, people are moving toward them without chaos, as if everyone knows exactly where to go. I decide to take the lift to reach the first floor faster.
But as I approach, I see that everyone else seems to have had the same idea. The lift is already packed, leaving no space for me to squeeze in. Avoiding the chaos once again, I rush to the stairs and start walking down, following the others in their identical purple pajamas.
As I make my way down the stairs, I pass a mix of faces—some focused, others still dazed, like me. All of us moving in the same direction, still unsure of what's happening, but too focused on the task to stop and ask.
"Zoe!" A very familiar voice calls my name from behind. I turn around in a state of horror, and there she is—a girl rushing toward me.
What... Oh no. I know this girl. She was kind of my "friend." Or at least, she thought we were friends. In reality, we weren't. I helped her with some assignments at school, and after that, she kept reaching out, knowing I was somehow useful to her. But honestly? I lowkey hate her. She's childish and way below me in terms of intelligence. Those are the kinds of people I can't stand. I only kept in touch with her to avoid upsetting her—plus, she's some distant relative of my mom. But I couldn't care less about that.
Wait... How can I remember all of this? Everything except how I ended up here?