After absorbing all the information from the “Profile” folder assigned to me, I opened the door of the dim “former TeSTAR dorm” and stepped out.
‘The door was locked.’
I felt slight resistance, gripped the doorknob firmly, and pushed.
Screeech.
“Wh—who is it?”
“It’s me.”
“Park Mundae!”
A few of them were already gathered in the living room and leapt up at the sight of me. In the darkness I could just make out their builds and faces: Kim Rae bin and Bae Sejin. It looked like they’d been huddled on the floor instead of the sofa and scrambled up.
Hmm.
“Did you all wake up in your own rooms?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Kim Rae bin nodded, proud. Bae Sejin cut to the chase.
“How did you do this? It’s exactly like our old dorm!”
He wasn’t just talking structure. I’d heard that since we’d effectively taken over our former company, T1 Stars, the old dorm lease was still in place.
‘We could easily use that dorm for the reality shoot.’
But that wasn’t what surprised them. I turned to the unlit TV and the plaster air freshener in front of it—a flower-crown shape.
Seon Ah hyun had displayed one in the old dorm and, apparently, they’d recreated it here too.
“That’s right. The props are almost identical.”
They’d replicated nearly everything from when TeSTAR lived here. Yet—
“But it’s a bit spooky since the lights don’t work...”
“Exactly.”
The light switch did nothing. Only a few corridor lamps and indirect ceiling lights were on.
“.......”
Anyone with an active imagination would feel uneasy. The place felt like something terrible could happen any moment.
‘Hmm.’
I noticed two people who thrived on this sort of environment were missing: Ryu Geon woo and Seon Ah hyun.
‘...Wait.’
I scanned the faces of the others and asked, “Did any of you have roommates?”
“Oh.”
The others looked thoughtful.
“Come to think of it, you were all alone in your rooms, right?”
“Yes! At least I was.”
Indeed: the three of us each had our own rooms. Kim Rae bin’s roommate was Seon Ah hyun. Bae Sejin’s was Cha Yoo jin. Mine was Ryu Geon woo. So none of us had roommates.
‘Then... are we each being drafted from our rooms?’
In other words, these three of us formed the “dorm team.” Of course, being a group reality show, we wouldn’t film only among ourselves—eventually the others would join. But if they’d divided teams, one room would remain.
‘A single room.’
Seems Bae Sejin realized it too; he balled his fist.
“Right! Then let’s find Lee Sejin—she’s the only one alone!”
“Yes.”
But when we cautiously approached Lee Sejin’s locked room door, it was bolted tight.
“.......”
In the dark dorm, we heard no sound at all.
“Is she in there, staying quiet to scare us?”
“That’s possible.”
She knew variety shows. But Lee Sejin didn’t burst out of the room. For at least three minutes it was eerily silent.
“.......”
By now there’d be an audio gap if someone stayed silent so long. And someone so skilled at timing for maximum scare wouldn’t abandon the main storyline. So the door was simply unopenable—for now.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Or she’s unwilling to come out.”
We couldn’t know.
“Hmm.”
Bae Sejin and I stared at the locked door, feeling odd. Then—
“Hey, there’s something under here.”
“...!”
Kim Rae bin bent down and lifted something halfway under the door: a white sheet of paper with writing on it.
‘An instruction?’
It had a single line:
– I open from the end.
Cryptic.
“Looks like an escape-room hint.”
“Right.”
We studied the paper with grave faces. The corridor’s indirect light barely reached us; cool air—maybe from the air conditioner—brushed the back of my neck.
‘They set the mood well.’
Could’ve used a flashlight. This felt like a zombie could jump out any moment and turn it into a real survival scenario.
‘Not impossible.’
I nodded. But first, let’s do the segment the producers asked for:
– Please introduce yourselves for the viewers.
“Shall we sit and introduce ourselves?”
“Okay.”
Time for self-introductions.
“First off, my profession is doctor.”
“Oh.”
“Very fitting for hyung Park Mundae!”
As if chosen, Kim Rae bin exclaimed. ‘Actually, we all drew lots before being placed here.’ The folder allocation probably happened like that—might even have split teams. But I’d leave that twist for the behind-the-scenes reveal and nodded.
“Thanks for the compliment. Now, Sejin hyung....”
“Ah, I’m... lawyer.”
“.......”
“What? Why?”
“No, no.”
I could hear my own interview voice: “Wouldn’t prosecutor suit him better?” Everyone would agree.
“But lawyer makes me think you get missions deceiving people....”
“No way!”
Bae Sejin bristled.
“Oh, what’s our first mission?”
– Profession Mission: Complete it before the first game ends.
It was in my folder. Each profession differed. Remembering mine, I nodded.
“Understood. Hyung, I’ll be suspicious of you.”
“You’re supposed to say you’ll trust me first...!”
“I’m not usual.”
“...?!”
A little comedic back-and-forth broke the ice, and we got that variety show vibe.
“Then Rae bin?”
“I’m ‘journalist.’ Nice to meet you.”
“Got it.”
After hearing Kim Rae bin’s curious fit, I asked,
“Shall we explore more? We need to find an exit.”
“Let’s. The patio door’s blocked by a thin wall.”
Clearly an escape-room setup. And crucially, the front door had a translucent inner door with a keypad—locked for extra security.
“Looks like no power here either.”
“Phew.”
We confirmed that and resumed searching.
“Split up?”
“Better to stick together for safety!”
“Right!”
We moved as one, enjoying the “escape-room content,” rifling rooms, gathering hints that led us to the locked bathroom door with a combination lock.
“If we map colors to numbers... 2724!”
“That’s it!”
“Excellent!”
Surprisingly, they were actually enjoying it. Once our eyes adjusted, it felt like a normal escape-room café—no horror elements, no zombies or jump-scares.
‘Kinda boring.’
Hope Ryu Seorin’s got a twist up her sleeve. I imagined a brisk, warm edit and dove into the hints. Soon we unlocked the bathroom lock.
“2724... correct.”
“Oh!”
“At least our dignity is intact....”
Clack.
The moment I opened the bathroom door, the lights flicked on.
“Oh?”
“The power’s back!”
The fluorescent glow dazzled us. Instinctively we filed into the newly brightened bathroom.
‘Hmm.’
I inspected inside. Everything replicated the old dorm—except one dissonant detail: a black rectangular handheld device on the sink.
“Walkie-talkie?”
“Why in the dorm?”
“.......”
Could it be? I picked it up.
...It had batteries!
‘It works.’
I pressed the button and spoke, “Can you hear me?”
[.......]
“Cheong woo hyung? Ah hyun?”
“...Lee Sejin, Cha Yoo jin?”
No response. I lowered it, shook my head.
“No reply.... Thought it might connect to the others.”
“Ah...”
“Maybe hyungs or Yoo jin haven’t found you yet.”
“Could be. Hey, can I hold that walkie-talkie?”
“Sure.”
Time for some deductions. Then—
Flicker.
“...?”
Blink, blink.
“.......”
This wasn’t an illusion. I looked up.
‘The bathroom light...’
It flickered twice in a row.
‘And this kind of staging usually means....’
Oh, damned.
“Park Mundae?”
Grabbing their shoulders, I backed away. Then,
Flicker-flicker-flicker-...
“Aaah!”
“Wah!”
I shoved them and bolted from the bathroom as the lights strobing rapidly. A shadow loomed behind me—damn it!
‘I’m not alone!’
Bursting from the bathroom, I threw out my hand and slammed the door.
Bang!!
“Huh!”
I closed and locked the door again.
“W-what was that??”
“Felt wrong!”
This was a classic haunted-cabinet stunt: a ghost or zombie jumping out!
“Did anyone see it?”
“I... didn’t look back.”
“...Me neither.”
Phew. I stared at the silent door, breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Didn’t get caught.’
Better to come back later with more people.
‘I might’ve looked like a scaredy-cat on camera...’
Bae Sejin tapped me encouragingly. Annoying.
“I’ll keep the walkie-talkie.”
Good move. Whoever grabs it last keeps it.
“Amazing! Oh—looks like the living-room switch works now too!”
Meanwhile, Kim Rae bin deduced the other lights had power again.
‘Then maybe the keypad too?’
I stood.
“How’s the inner-door keypad?”
“...! Yes! Lights on!”
Kim Rae bin waved. I exhaled.
‘...Okay.’
The inner door should open now. I moved toward it.
“...Hey, Park Mundae.”
Bae Sejin whispered to me, out of Rae bin’s earshot.
“Something’s on the bottom—looks like blood.”
“...!!”
I looked at the underside of the upturned walkie-talkie he held; sticky dark red gunk was smeared there.
‘...Is this the cue?’
A zombie? As I gauged camera angles to predict the scare location, Bae Sejin whispered,
“Rae bin might freak out, so let’s not mention it.”
Huh?
“...Uh, okay.”
I nodded; Bae Sejin nodded back and gripped the walkie-talkie, stepping forward.
And I thought,
‘Should I retrieve the walkie-talkie?’
His reaction had been odd.
Rae bin wouldn’t be scared by fake blood—he’s the wild type. Raised on a farm, he’s used to guts. Bae Sejin must know that.
‘Maybe he panicked and—protecting the youngest?’
But one more thing unsettled me.
‘Bae Sejin’s profession.’
A lawyer defends suspects—who might be criminals. If the show noticed that trait, maybe he’s been tasked with trolling or defending a “villain.”
‘...Let’s keep an eye on him.’
In variety shows you don’t have to win, but I’m done being backstabbed like during that Carrot Coin heist. I quietly joined them at the inner door. Rae bin and Bae Sejin peered at the “Incorrect code” message.
“The code... doesn’t match.”
Of course—they wouldn’t use the original password for security.
‘But finding another code seems dull.’
I thought briefly and offered, “How about 0000?”
“Ah.”
The default code. Then,
Beep-beep-beep—
“Oh!”
“It worked!”
The inner door swung open, revealing the front door.
‘Check ahead first.’
Then—
[...Hyung!]
[...Guys~!]
“...!!”
“Me-members?”
Shouts came from the other side of the door.
“They must’ve been waiting over there!”
“Right!”
‘They’re joining us.’
We hurried to the door; voices grew louder.
[...Get us out...!]
Sounds like they wanted rescue. I nodded and stepped forward. At that moment the front door began to glow.
“...!!”
“W-what is that.”
They both jumped. Good reflexes, but—
“It’s okay.”
I reached out and touched the door.
Swish, screeeech.
Like peeling a sticker from paper, a layer of coating peeled back from the edge. It was a paper cover.
“A cover...?”
“Mm.”
By the backlight, I saw the outline of a paper cover I hadn’t noticed. The light source was—
“A panel?”
A pad, like a smartphone or monitor screen.
“Wow.”
“Is it safe to install this on a residential door?”
Voices on the other side sounded startled too. Then—
Ding.
[Welcome to the Lamb Game!]
“Ah!!”
The screen on the door flashed bright, then displayed large text with a jingle.
Kim Rae bin gaped, covering his mouth.
“Wh-what is this?”
“Let’s step back a bit.”
Swish-shash.
We three backed three paces in unison, and the screen changed dramatically.
[First Game]
– Choose a sacrificial profession to open the front door.
Time until results: 3 hours.
What?
