Recess came, but nobody dared to head to the yard or sneak into the library. I wandered the hall, leaving the monitors alone with themselves until I spotted Minh Thu from 8A3—we're from the same bus. We waved. My eyes flicked to her nametag. Not blurred, but streaked red. Curiosity slipped out:

"You're not a ghost... So what are you?"

Her whole face soured. She crossed her arms tight, voice sharp and almost snapping:

"God, it's so annoying when people ask that. My class had a kid die in the first period. By second period? Boom—ghost. It lured another guy in, he talked to it one time and bam, blood everywhere, eyes turned red, dropped dead on the spot. Then he just sat up like nothing happened, cold as ice, chatting with the ghost like they were buddies! And when I went to the bathroom, guess what? The class board was blurred. We tried telling the supervisors, and right then some math teacher I swear I've never seen before showed up. Said he'd help. You know what his help was? Dragging us into the library for some stupid 'find the clue' thing. And no—no clues, no help—he made us play dumb children's games. Rhymes, riddles, games damn it! Half the class died right there - it's like... Squid Game! Out of twenty kids, ten were gone. Just like that! If it wasn't for my friend—you know, the one who's good at literature—I'd be dead too. I swear I hate this place! And ja, tag me along if you're planning to escape."

Her words tumbled out so fast I could barely keep up. She let out a sharp breath before lowering her voice, almost spitting the last bit:

"And now? Because I walked out of that damn library alive, my nametag's red. I heard my sister from grade 9 said it was protection, so you'll never see ghosts again, and I'm baffled right then and there. What was that supposed to mean?"

I nodded, trying to remember everything she had just said. After venting, she seemed to calm down and walked away, her face showing a fleeting sadness and haunted look. I could really feel what it must be like to watch every familiar face die right in front of you. Just thinking about the moment Khanh Trinh was brutally killed by Ms. Chau made the metallic, coppery smell of blood fill the air.

"Hey Minh Thu!"

"Eh? What?"

Minh Thu halted her steps. I sighed, stepped up, eyes flicking at her name tag again - seemingly waiting for my demise if the red tag actually puts a curse upon me. I decided to be reckless, asking her about what's on my mind anyway. Minh Thu blinked:

"What, you idiot?"

"Ah, sorry. I spaced out. What about the library? I mean... Do you find anything interesting there? Anything for me to get it out alive?"

I asked cautiously. Minh Thu glanced around, then leaned closer, her voice dropped into a gravelly whisper:

"So our class won the first game about Pythagorean theory. I wandered around, waiting for others to complete their challenges - well I was first in line so yup, plus being a fortunate person my whole life, I dodged death quite a few times back in the games. I'm suffocating. A senior, probably in grade 9, was hiding in the library. She had a red name tag, which I later know as the "Tag of Protection" after searching up with her. She was the one who told me about the protection theory and the curse."

"Curse? What do you mean by a curse? The school can't leave us alone, eh?"

My curiosity was piqued. She scoffed, rolling her eyes sarcastically:

"Well, half of your class by now should die in the library - the casualties before plus the casualties in the library. For whatever was happening, but I feel like even the ghosts need to run their KPI."

The supervisor approached, seemingly to sense our gossip - talking shit about the school is actually a crime?! Minh Thu scurried away and I blended in the crowd of mourning students back to my classroom.

About three janitors—faces lined with hardship, smiles stretching ear to ear, hair tied so tightly not a single strand out of place—entered the room and began cleaning up the bodies of the dead students. Their footsteps light as a feather, hands working professionally. The smell of antiseptic filled the air with a mix of soap. They stuffed the unfortunate students into one body bag and carried it out. Outside, the others were already trying to plan a way to escape the school. Nguyen Nam firmly held Bao Quan with one arm:

"We have to get out of here!"

The others nodded in agreement. Understandable—who wouldn't want to escape this living hell? Foolish. They're not heroes in novels, no special powers except for their brain to function and think about something better than rashly trying to escape without a proper plan. Nguyen Nam's plan sounded like desperation more than a plan that would likely be successful. Bao Quan shook his head, disagreeing:

"You only have thirty minutes. How do you expect to escape? The bell will ring before you even get out, and then it's over for everyone!"

"What are you talking about? Planning to drag the whole group into death? You better not act recklessly! When you're near the edge, you'll just blame each other anyway!"

Dan Thuy tried to persuade them to pause their escape plans, urging them to understand the rules fully before acting. But the boys weren't listening. After class, the desire to escape grew stronger—but only for some of them. Most of the students just sat quietly, crying, sniffing, and fearing for their lives. Nguyen Nam angrily shoved Dan Thuy:

"How long do you want to keep us trapped in this damn school? Until we all die slowly like cattle waiting to be slain?"

Quoc Trung stepped in, his face scowling. The last thing he needed in this hellhole is the class being divided. He stood between Dan Thuy and Nguyen Nam, speaking evenly:

"Both of you, please stop arguing. Nguyen Nam is right—we can't stay here long. Dan Thuy is right too. We need to spend time finding loopholes in the rules, testing all possible outcomes, and then plan our escape from the school. What does everyone think?"

Most of the group agreed with Quoc Trung. Fear had clouded their judgment, and they followed someone with a commanding voice without question. Nguyen Nam gritted his teeth and stomped off to another spot, with Bao Quan running after him, trying to explain what was reasonable. Dan Thuy murmured under her breath, saying "How was testing all the outcomes possible?". The bell rang, signaling the end of recess. Everyone checked the class board hanging on the door—fortunately, it hadn't blurred yet—then quickly ran back to their seats.

Ms. Chu Anh, our literature teacher this year—and also last year—entered the classroom. We fell silent, bracing for the next "deadly lesson." But Ms. Chu Anh seemed to be struggling against some dark force. She walked unsteadily, her steps shaky. Her eyes were not the pitch-black of Ms. Chau's, nor were her fingers unnaturally long. Her voice sounded normal, clear, and gentle—the same as I remembered. Ms. Chau, when possessed after passing out, had a hoarse and deepened voice. Ms. Chu Anh wobbled up to the teacher's desk and collapsed into the chair. Her pupils contracted and dilated repeatedly, then she returned to normal. Her tone became urgent:

"Children! This school has a problem!"

I furrowed my brows. Thu's words echoed in my mind. Could Ms. Chu Anh be on the same side as the mysterious teacher from class 8A3? I wasn't sure, but for now, she seemed like the literature teacher I knew. She appeared no longer controlled by that dark force, and her voice was sharp with urgency:

"Children, by any means necessary, do not go into the library! It is filled with deadly games about history, geography, and science! And if you are tricked into going inside, after each trial you clear, you must remember this carefully...!"

Everyone looked at each other. I could hear Anh Quan whisper to the friend beside him:

"Is she crazy? Why isn't she starting to kill people already?"

"God, you're the crazy one here. Who would actually want a teacher to kill people? And anyway, today Ms. Chu Anh is different—she doesn't look like she's possessed by something the way Ms. Chau was."

People stared at Ms. Chu Anh in confusion. Why hadn't she started the lesson yet? She continued, her voice hurried:

"Behind the shelves of revolutionary books, there is a slip of paper with information written on it. Then, you must find the book The Tale of Kieu by Nguyen Du—it's easy to spot in the natural sciences section. Inside, you will find what you need to trace a safe path out! Between each stage, you will have only ten minutes, so don't waste a single second. The last clue is an old yellowed scrap of paper with no words on it—you must—"

Her sentence cut off sharply. She had not even finished her sentence when the supervisor walked into the classroom. Ms. Chu Anh didn't have the chance to reveal the final clue before her body suddenly exploded into pieces. With a snap of his fingers, her body burst apart like shredded meat. Then he tilted his head back, and from his throat emerged a second mouth lined with jagged fangs. The stench of blood and rotting flesh filled the room as he swallowed her small body whole in an instant.

My whole class turned pale, frozen in disbelief at the nightmare unfolding before our eyes. What?! The truth was more horrifying than I had imagined: teachers weren't people at all, but puppets controlled by a dark force, while students were nothing more than cattle for them to hunt. Any teacher who tried to help us would be slaughtered immediately.

There was no time to mourn Ms. Chu Anh. We had to focus on the clues she left us if we wanted to survive. But she had died before finishing—leaving only the mystery of the yellow sheet of paper with no writing. What were we supposed to do? My mind went blank.

A chill ran down my spine as I ducked under the desk and squeezed my eyes shut. The inspector was wearing red. At once, I remembered the rule. I shoved Bao Ngoc's head down against the desk. Seeing my action, Quoc Trung shouted:

"Do not make contact with the inspector! Everyone, shut your eyes!"

But a few didn't listen. They were mesmerized by the inspector's appearance, their souls pulled toward him as if hypnotized. Despite the monster mouth, the inspector's features were unnervingly perfect—smooth pale skin, a balanced body, faint lines of muscle. The rule only said not to look directly into the inspector's eyes. So, technically, staring at his body wasn't against it.

Honestly, he wasn't my type, so after one quick glance I squeezed my eyes shut again, enough to remember his appearance - enough to avoid him. But two girls in the class couldn't tear their eyes away. They stared at him, almost worshipping his body and image at the spot, eyes looking admiringly. Almost immediately, their eyes turned bloodshot, and they began to vomit blood. Blood dripped on the floor. I wanted to scream for help. But no - who would help us? The supervisor bent down to the dead students, opening his mouth again, tongue swirling over their eye sockets. In a blink of an eye, he devoured them all in less than a second. Then there's footsteps. Light, soft like a feline, soft fabric rustling and creaking from the shoes. Must be heels. I looked up, finally. She is the Head Supervisor, walking into the room with confidence, exuding elegance with every step. Everyone cautiously glanced at her. She smiled widely:

"Greetings, children. Since your Literature teacher, Ms. Chu Anh is permanently ill, I would be your substitute teacher. We can play games in the library until lunch."

My gaze darkened almost immediately. Games in the library? Those deadly games that wiped out half of class 8A3? I didn't tell anyone about that, of course. They would turn against me anytime, and I couldn't be a saint, saving everyone. Humans are greedy. Once they found something that generously gives them what they needed and benefits them without consequences, they exploited. I began to feel a bit suspicious. The rule stated "You cannot go anywhere except the library". Giving us some freedom to explore. They actually hid the clues inside it, but had to face immense consequences, playing the deadly games. It's both a trap and the light towards safety. And damn the supervisor - the lie made me sick. She's talking like Ms. Chu Anh was actually at home shivering in her blanket, not the person who was devoured by a peculiar supervisor dressed in red.

Interesting.

We lined up then followed the supervisor to the library. On our way, I made sure to take notes of the school's architecture and routes, planning every escape way possible. We arrived at the library. The library of Trần Đại Nghĩa High School for the Gifted is not just a place for books—it feels like the beating heart of the campus. Step inside, and the air shifts: cool, quiet, and purposeful in its air-conditioned study hall, where rows of books and glowing screens invite focused thought. Just beyond, the atmosphere transforms—an outdoor garden, airy and sunlit, arranged café-style, where students linger over assignments, conversations, and the kind of ideas that spill beyond the classroom. The space itself is alive with possibilities: a grand room opens for lectures that blur the lines between subjects, while smaller chambers—tucked away yet humming with energy—become homes to clubs, debates, and collaborations that reach across borders through computer screens and digital networks. That's what I thought when I was young and naive. The library was the same, but it's dim. It's dark. The fluorescent light flickered and showed a place where Ms. Huyen Trang - a history professor - stood. Her hair tied back into a half updo, smile prim and proper in black palazzo pants and a burgundy shirt with trumpet sleeves and ruffles. I always admire her for her style in clothing, it exuded elegance and intelligence at the same time. But now, she's a lifeless puppet controlled by an entity far beyond my knowledge. Ms. Huyen Trang smiled as she explained the rules. She stood in front of the Revolutionary section, where we could find the first clue:

"To pass this game, you all have to give me a quote from history that you liked the most. As you already know, our country Vietnam has many shining examples to follow. Therefore, each of you should share a famous saying that went down in history from great kings, or a verse from an outstanding writer, or the finest line from heroic generals. We will go by roll call. Number 1: Nguyen Hoang Anh."

Tch, here we go again. Sometimes I resent my parents for naming me Anh - the first letter in the alphabet. But it's alright - I'm good at history, I'll spare the easy ones to my peers. Even though I don't like them, I still wanted them to live. After all, they still have a home to be safe in, parents who cared and loved them for their whole life, and friends who cherished them too. I stepped forward first, my voice trembling, but I managed to keep a natural composure:

"Crossing a tiger is easy, facing Lady Trieu is hard. This line appeared around the time Lady Trieu was driving out the Wu invaders."

The teacher nodded softly.

"Good. Stand behind me. Next, Nguyen The Bao Chau."

I quietly walked past her, my eyes darting over the thick volumes stacked on the shelf. Was the slip of paper Ms. Chu Anh mentioned really hidden behind these books? Bao Chau, not exactly strong in history, immediately went pale with confusion. I quickly stood at attention, but all he could stammer out was a verse by Ho Xuan Huong—he didn't even notice me, nor the note secretly slipped to him by Quoc Trung:

"Climbing Ngang Pass at dusk, grass entangles leaves, leaves entangle flowers. This is Tang-style poetry, by writer Ho Xuan Huong."

"Good. Stand behind me. Next."

Bao Chau let out a sigh of relief as he walked over to me. I nudged him with my elbow, urging him to hurry up and search for that secret slip of paper. At last, I caught a faint flicker of golden light glimmering from deep within the bookshelf.

"Hoang Anh! Do you see it?"

Bao Chau asked, his hands rummaging frantically through the shelf. By then, Ha Giang had already cleared Ms. Huyen Trang's challenge. She was a bright student, so tasks like these posed little difficulty for her. Ha Giang rushed over to help Bao Chau, since time was running short. After Ha Giang, I heard screams of the students who were ignorant in history studies. After all, our school valued patriotism and students had to know the bare minimum about the country they're living in. Some found history quite annoying, but I always found interest in what people did in the past.

Quoc Trung, Bao Ngoc, Dan Thuy, Nguyen Nam, Bao Quan, and Thai Phong were also among those who survived this round. Duc Thanh narrowly escaped death thanks to Bao Ngoc's whispered hint from across the room.

I immediately ran over to Bao Ngoc, glad that she's safe...

"I saw the yellow slip! It's deep inside the shelf, right between the books on the Resistance Against the Americans and the Tet Offensive. Someone needs to crawl in and get it!"

Bao Ngoc repeated loudly:

"The yellow paper, hidden inside the shelf on the Anti-American Resistance and the Tet Offensive."

The moment she spoke, Quoc Trung clapped her on the shoulder as if in praise as others rushed in to hug her. That small, casual gesture did not escape my notice. Others crowded around Bao Ngoc too, hugging her and praising her cleverness. I showed a forced smile, while Anh Quan threw in a snide remark about me being "useless despite arriving first." Soon, the others began tossing books aside to make a tunnel. Anh Quan immediately dumped an armful of heavy volumes in the spot I had pointed out, then suggested they draw lots to decide who would crawl inside. Ha Giang refused right away.

"I'm not going! I get short of breath too easily, I don't have the stamina."

"Don't be ridiculous! Chau's smaller, I'm stronger—we can push him in to grab the slip. And you're the city's table tennis athlete. Don't tell me you're not fit enough."

Another argued, the motive clear. They act all caring, but actually plotting to push someone into the tunnel, since the risk was high. A voice quickly blurred my opinion:

"I completely agree. I'd rather have one of you dying than all of us going to this hellhole!"

The class erupted into loud arguments, voices clashing with panic. Barely three minutes remained. They went back and forth endlessly, insisting the lighter ones should go in, only for each to make excuses. I tried to speak up too, suggesting that someone nimble, easy to carry, and quick on their feet should be chosen.

But one look into the gaping, cavernous shelf—like a dark maw waiting to swallow its prey—was enough to make everyone shake their heads. Finally, the group settled on Plan B: using a pole to hook the paper out. But the slip was wedged between the pages of a thick book, peeking out tauntingly like it was waving at us. Seriously—who would've thought a library even had a pole for that? And why was this shelf so unnaturally deep? Was it really built for storage—or for something else entirely? After much bickering, Duc Thanh suddenly spoke up:

"Is the labor vice monitor still alive?"

Seriously. I was standing right here, yet they were acting like I'd already died. It's understandable, no one cares about my existence until they need something to sacrifice. I scoffed:

"I'm here, you idiots."

So there I was, climbing onto Bao Chau's back, squeezing myself painfully into the abyss of that monstrous shelf. Inch by inch, I crawled toward the glowing yellow slip, while behind me Ha Giang and the boys strained to drag more books aside to make room. I am a bit claustrophobic, and the light from the paper was dim. I tried my best to squeeze myself into the makeshift tunnel. Suddenly, a wet, slick tentacle gripped my legs. I heard gasps from the outside. I heard Ha Giang shouting:

"Someone give her a phone! She needs light!"

A flashlight was thrown into the tunnel. I used my free leg to kick the light up, and flashed straight towards the tentacle. It hovered over my back, then turned to ashes. Dan Thuy was scurrying towards the second game, since a few of them had already passed. More tentacles shot out from the book, dragging me back inside. I clawed the wood, screamed until my voice went hoarse. Luckily, Quoc Trung climbed into the tunnel and dragged me out - we both fell into a pile of mushy books. I got a few bruises and Trung had a cut on his lip. I turned to him, my gaze softening slightly:

"Gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into this mess-"

"Nothing, nothing. I need you alive for the next game. We all need your resourcefulness. I don't want anyone to be a liability."

I hurriedly crawled out, because I don't want to risk my life trying to cling to the frail hope of escaping. My class wasted half of the time arguing and quarreling so now they had to go to the second game empty handed. We mentally noted how to get the piece of paper while others participated in the game.

The next game was a traditional folk game I used to play during Tet: Bau – Cua – Tom – Ca – Ga – Nai (Fish - Prawn - Crab game). It was a betting game, based on luck and a bit of calculation. Each player would receive a certain amount of money, then place their bets on the wooden board. After that, the game master would put three dice into a bowl, shake them, and roll them out onto a plate. Whatever three animals showed up, the people who had placed bets on those animals would win money. Those who didn't would lose and the winner takes all the cash.

A young male teacher with a delicate face stepped forward:

"Welcome, students, to the Bau Cua Tom Ca game organized by our school! Let's have six excellent students represent the class to play this game! You all should already be familiar with the rules."

Familiar? Times had changed, I thought, sighing. Vietnamese people had become too Westernized. Nowadays, even singing a song requires throwing in a few English words just to be "trendy." Everywhere I went, young people were speaking Vietlish. Not to mention, foreign fads were picked up quickly, while traditional games were left forgotten in some dusty corner. Would these kids even know how to play? Society was truly complicated. I had seen many young Vietnamese mock and belittle their own country. No matter what, we should still respect our traditions. If they are abandoned, then the identity and uniqueness of an entire people will be lost.

Originally, Bau Cua Tom Ca was a cheerful game, a gamble on luck, and the money was fake, just for fun and entertainment. But... this set of bills had the names of my classmates on them – including mine. Their faces were frozen like cards, each one in the crisp white uniform, bright red scarf, hair neatly combed – they looked like photos placed on an altar, which sent chills down my spine. Instead of betting for money, we were betting for the lives of our classmates. Also, if we lost a classmate, the person who won would be in charge of their fate to either revive them or lose them. Dan Thuy asked the teacher:

"If I bet on someone who is already dead, what happens?"

"Then that person comes back to life."

The teacher casually replied like talking about the damn weather - yes sir it's raining and I'm in a foul mood. Bringing the dead back to life? It sounded absurd. His words seemed almost like he was a savior for the whole class. But then he added a sentence that struck like a bolt of lightning:

"A life for a life. A soul for a soul. Nothing in this world comes for free. If you want to save someone who has already died, you must use one of the cards in your hand to die in their place."

"There's no difference!"

One argued. The teacher smirked slyly:

"There is, my dear child. Saving your best friend and eliminating the one you hated at the same time."

"But not all choices are fair! What if we wanted to save two?!"

Ha Giang asked. The teacher glared at her, gaze stern, lips twitching into a sadistic smile:

"Then sacrifice your life. Go on. But you won't, will you? You're no saint—you're not that selfless. It's fine. We're all selfish. Admit it: you'd rather save your own ass than give a fuck about a friend who's dying. You'll live with the guilt, the gnawing that never stops, but at least you'll still be breathing. That's how it is. Everyone chooses survival and prioritizes themselves. We're all the same breed, with the same sick mind."

His words were like a bucket of cold water, taunting while casually stating the obvious intention. We all shivered at the thought of sacrificing someone - the weight of our friends' fate laid in our hands. Nguyen Nam raised his hand:

"Can we wander around while others participate in the game?"

"Sure, my child. You can read books and wait... for your fate."

The teacher curtly replied. I groaned internally. Yes, we still have the chance to get the clue from the makeshift tunnel, but our lives ended if they placed us in the wrong betting. And we still had a chance of revival - yes - but if that person chooses another to sacrifice. I raised an eyebrow:

"This game is endless, since we exchanged our classmates' lives around and around like cash. Do you have any special hidden rules we should know before you begin your massacre, sir?"

"My dear, you will have 45 minutes to play the game. Plenty of time, isn't it? And if your classmate is in the right box, well... They will come back alive."

I just nodded. 45 minutes. Revive all possible students and help them escape, and if time is up, the dead students will remain dead. Sounds like a simple and lame plan, but at least it gives us some hope for survival. Our class began to choose six candidates to participate in the game. As I expected, the list included with our seats:

Ha Giang (Bau - Bottle of wine)

Quoc Trung (Cua - Crab)

Anh Quan (Tom - Prawn)

Dan Thuy (Ca - Fish)

Bao Ngoc (Ga - Chicken)

Hoang Anh - me (Nai - Deer)

Our class has thirty students, each of us gets five cards. Quoc Trung gave orders to Nguyen Nam, hushing strategies. Nguyen Nam, Bao Quan, Phuong Nghi, Hai Lam, Nhat Khoi and the other survivors returned to the shelf where the clue was and began to form a plan to get it. The game begins.

Each of us received five cards – with a class size of 30 and 6 players in the game. In my hand were the students numbered 1–5 (Me, Gia Bao, Bao Chau, Dang Duy, Ha Giang). Bao Ngoc held those who numbered 6–10 (Viet Hung, Xuan Khang, Nhat Khoi, Tuan Kiet, Hai Lam). Dan Thuy had 11–15 (My Linh, Tue Linh, Tan Loc, Khanh Minh, Cat Minh). Anh Quan's set was 16–20 (Nguyen Nam, Phuong Nghi, Bao Ngoc, Ha Nguyen, Quynh Nhi). Quoc Trung had 21–25 (Thai Phong, Quang Phuoc, Anh Quan, Bao Quan, Duc Thanh). And Ha Giang was left with the remaining numbers (Dan Thuy, Bao Tran, Khanh Trinh, Quoc Trung, and Thao Vy).

By this point, six people had already died, plus Tan Loc and Xuan Khang who were killed in the History round, making it eight in total.

According to Dan Thuy's suggestion, we would each place one card onto one of the six animals. I bet Dang Duy's life on Deer – right at the spot I was sitting. To me, Dang Duy was a quiet type. He wasn't remarkable, but he was diligent, always raising his hand in class, and his English was excellent. But this was a survival game, and keeping someone with no standout ability only made the team more bloated. Honestly, I was sorry for him, but I had no choice. It was survival for the rounds ahead, and Dang Duy is a large liability. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, this is the moment of calculation, not a place where I took revenge on the people I hate. I knew deep down, everyone yearned for survival, and it's best to not be emotionally attached to anyone - just to decrease the guilt inside us when we lose them. I might not live for long, maybe in this manmade slaughterhouse, but I'll try my best to ensure my peers' survival.

The others placed their cards on the animals in front of them. Bao Ngoc chose Viet Hung - out of reluctance - plus he's already dead. In her hands, no one had died yet, so she had to choose the one she hated the most - Viet Hung. He knows how to spy, is quick, can fight in close range, agile in combat. But he often makes vulgar jokes and objectifies girls in class, which upsets Bao Ngoc so she puts his card into the board, even though Hung respects her. Maybe she can resurrect him?

Dan Thuy put in Tue Linh – the one nobody could stand. Even Dan Thuy, righteous as she tried to appear, couldn't tolerate Tue Linh's massive ego. Betting her life felt like killing two birds with one stone. But she thought she would put a random student on her hand and bet on Tue Linh's life later so she decided to put Cat Minh in instead.

Anh Quan went straight for Phuong Nghi. By now, people's true nature was plain: everyone was targeting the ones they hated or trying to bring back the ones they love back to life. I thought Phuong Nghi was different – always buried in books, avoided by everyone, with hardly any friends. But still, she could stick with groups when needed. Personally, I could relate to her a little. Seeing her card on the table made my chest tighten for a moment.

Quoc Trung picked Thai Phong. I was the vice class monitor, but I honestly didn't understand why in such a critical game Quoc Trung didn't want Thai Phong around. Sure, he was smart – a top student – but he lacked decisiveness. Silent, passive, and often just endured things. A big brain that doesn't know how to function only slows the team down.

Ha Giang hated everyone, but she didn't dare take action. So she threw in Bao Tran's card – practical enough. Bao Tran was tall, strong, and far more athletic than most girls. She could easily become a human shield, willing to protect Ha Giang out of a sense of debt for being brought back from the dead.

Humans are a bizarre species. They strive to destroy one another, yet eagerly work to preserve each other as well. My perspective on people didn't come naturally. Who isn't drawn to lust, to sweet words and pleasing appearances? Treat someone well, and you're immediately called "good." Offend someone even slightly, and you're instantly labeled a villain in their eyes. That's why I can never be "good" in everyone's eyes.

People like Tue Linh – criticized and hated by many – clearly have no place in this life-or-death betting scenario; the odds of mercy for them are extremely low. The more unusual someone is, the more they are avoided. That's the mistake Phuong Nghi ran into.

In short, if you want to be prioritized for survival, you have to ingratiate yourself like Dan Thuy. She hides all her darker sides, presents herself as capable, earns trust, and becomes a pillar for others. She's unlikely to die easily. She resembles everyone else, fully understands them, shares their perspective, and doesn't take sides – always neutral. That makes her safe, but it also shows a lack of boldness - boldness can kill you sometimes. YOU HAVE TO FIT IN.

In my observation, that's the way to survive – cowardly, ingratiating, and obedient - and fit in. In this wicked game, there's no room for the noble. The only thing I allow myself to believe in is making a choice that I will feel the least regret over in the future - or perhaps, the Lord would guide my way.

According to Dan Thuy, it was a fair move: since the dice would likely show three different animals, the minimum casualties each round would be three. That meant three people would die – but at least the remaining three would survive, or perhaps bring back someone of their choice. The teacher shook the bowl a few times before spreading the dice out into a plate.

Crab. Prawn. Chicken

Thai Phong was alive. So was Phuong Nghi. And Cat Minh was resurrected back to life. The others - Dang Duy, Bao Tran (remained dead), and Tue Linh died. The teacher dragged Cat Minh's corpse out, now appearing as a bowl of meat soup - she was literally turned into a hearty, meaty soup. The players gasped in shock. Anh Quan scoffed:

"So that's what you meant by... Resurrect a friend? She's now your supper. You cheated!"

In the darkness, Cat Minh crawled out, her whole body covered in a slimy, foul-smelling green substance. She stood up, mumbling a few curses under her breath before dusting off her clothes. Her hair was a bit messy, she adjusted her glasses, then threw on her familiar light green wool sweater. After that, she walked toward Dan Thuy, her voice trembling with gratitude:

"Dan Thuy! For all eternity, I thank you, heaven and earth have heard my prayers! Thank God, thank you! My God, how could I ever repay this debt?"

As she spoke, she cried and buried her head against Dan Thuy. Her whole body was sticky, the green liquid smeared onto Dan Thuy's clothes, releasing a disgusting stench like sewage. Dan Thuy thought of raising her arms to embrace her, but then she noticed stitches on Cat Minh's neck, bits of cotton falling off loosely. Dan Thuy quickly pieced things together: her head had exploded during Ms. Chau's class, and now it was sewn back together. Was this even the real Cat Minh?

Her eyes darted to Cat Minh's name tag. It was blurred. Damn it. I reached out to Dan Thuy, whispering into her ears (it's loud obviously):

"She's a ghost. Sit there and endure, you heard me? Can't have a great player die before they can save our asses out."

Dan Thuy had no choice but to close her eyes tight and endure, letting Cat Minh cling to her a moment longer before she moved toward Nguyen Nam's group, who were struggling to grab the yellow slip of paper. Anh Quan tried to stand and warn the others, but somehow, all six of us players were glued tightly to our seats.

Cat Minh's surviving friends spoke with her, and ended up meeting the same fate — all of them died - 2 more meeting an early grave. Only then did Nguyen Nam realize what was happening. Furious, he kicked Cat Minh. She sulked, then vanished behind the thick rows of shelves, haunting cries trailed after her bloody footsteps. Dan Thuy mused:

"Damn, you never hold back, don't you?"

Tch. A bunch of them died without us even doing anything. Now we'd have to waste effort saving them — and who's to say they could even be saved? Tell me that I'm cocky if you want, but I'll admit deep down - as much as I hate you guys, I still wanted all of us alive. I cannot be a saint at all times, but morality and compassion urged us to save them. Minh Thu's words were partly right: half the class would die just from this game, and when the next round came... how many more would have to perish? Anh Quan scoffed:

"Tch, I hope no one blames me. I made an effort trying to stop them."

"Like hell. They'll still blame you anyways, Anh Quan. And if you don't bring them back, you're likely to meet the ancestors in the next round."

Bao Ngoc muttered. I stayed silent the whole time. The game continued. 3 minutes have passed. We continued to place our bets. This game is a losing one. If we resurrected a friend, they are now ghosts - it's useless.

This game was truly meaningless. Cat Minh was resurrected, but turned out to be a ghost – her neck crudely stitched together – and she dragged a few more of our classmates to their deaths. In the end, whether you saved someone or not didn't matter. The number of students in our class only kept dropping, and no one was truly saved. I spoke up:

"Then let's just bet on the ones who are already dead. That way we don't waste any more lives."

A stupid idea, really. Once we ran out of the dead to wager, we would eventually be forced to gamble with the living. And when that happened, we'd be in serious trouble. At that moment, Nguyen Nam stormed over, his face red with sweat. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at us:

"You didn't bother to tell anyone that Cat Minh was a ghost?! How heartless can you be?"

Quoc Trung straightened up immediately, explaining:

"Anh Quan and the rest of us tried to stand up, but we were glued to our seats. There was nothing we could do. Now, why don't you count how many people died just now?"

"Uh... actually, I'm not even sure. But I think Cat Minh dragged all of her close friends with her. Like Thao Vy, Quynh Nhi, Xuan Khang, Gia Bao... That's all I remember."

Nguyen Nam sighed. Already, fourteen students were gone – nearly half the class. None of us knew how much longer we could last before the class roster dropped to zero. None of us knew how many would remain alive by the time we finally escaped this school and uncovered the truth. Just the thought of it drained me of hope. A sense of dread filled me. The teacher tilted his head, his "charming" smile never left his lips:

"Shall we continue? I'd like to see you squirm and try to argue with fate. It's quite refreshing seeing you guys all calm under pressure. How about we increase the casualties?"

Quoc Trung glared at him defiantly, fixing his glasses:

"Nonsense! No teacher would wish their students to die! And your taunts... you're getting on our skin. So shut up, or else we'll accuse you of distracting the process."

"Like hell you can."

The teacher smirked smugly. We continued to gamble. This time, I threw in Gia Bao's name – he was already dead. The others followed suit, learning from the mistake. Each of them placed the names of the dead in front of themselves. No one dared to gamble differently. The teacher continued to shake the bowl and soon presented the answer:

Deer. Deer. Deer.

How the fuck is that possible?!

"Give me the plate!"

Ha Giang insisted, grabbing the bowl from the teacher's arm. All three of them appearing at the same time is impossible. Puzzled looks, or maybe more complicated expressions appeared on their faces. Dan Thuy slapped her thigh:

"This isn't impossible, but the chance of this happening is rare."

Bao Ngoc was baffled, leaning back. She just accepted. It irritated me, in some kind of way. Ha Giang passed the bowl to Quoc Trung, who gave it a quick glance then looked at the teacher, a mix of disgust and irritation on his face.

"You filthy rat!"

Quoc Trung spat, avoiding eye contact. I received the bowl from Bao Ngoc - who gave no answer since she got no clue - this woman always tried her best to get her way out of drama and scandal, but always became the magnet of trouble instead. I tried to pull out the dice, which required a bit of force. The dice is a bit heavy...? I examined the dice, nothing was wrong. Dan Thuy got the plate from my hand, examining it. Bao Ngoc's earlier plan - buy time, less casualties. The game doesn't require how many matches we should play - it's a loophole so we were faking the whole process. Suddenly, the opposite side of the dice - Bottle of Wine - slipped. The paper crumpled, revealing a small magnet.

"What?!"

Quoc Trung exclaimed, grabbing the other two dice and started to peel the Bottle of Wine face off. Indeed. There was a small piece of metal attached to it. Dan Thuy raised a brow in confusion. She asked:

"The plate is porcelain, how can the magnet stick to it?"

Bao Ngoc and Anh Quan seized the plate from her then started to scrape the surface. It was actually just a wrapper, a shiny white one indeed. The teacher glared at me sheepishly:

"Well... You can't prove it's a magnet and I'm cheating, right?"

Oh really? Well, fortunate for us, I always bring my lucky charm with me - the magnet with the painting "School of Athens". My aunt obtained it on her pilgrimage trip to Vatican City. I pulled out the magnet - it attracted to the dice almost immediately. The truth dawned on all of us. Dan Thuy spoke, her voice accusing:

"You also mentioned earlier you wanted the casualties to increase. And worst of all... YOU'RE CHEATING."

"Lies!"

The teacher mused, he seemed confident even from Dan Thuy's accusation. Bao Ngoc scoffed:

"You cheated. The game ends here."

With the mention of the word "cheating", the supervisor suddenly appeared. Luckily, he wasn't wearing any red clothes so we let him do his thing. The teacher who was in charge of the game writhed under the supervisor's gaze. The supervisor, a man with the name tag "Son". Mr. Son shoved all of us behind his back then gulped down the younger teacher - his mouth stretched like an elastic band, swallowing the teacher whole. I felt a cold rush running down my spine as I heard the swallowing sounds. We still have about 30 minutes left before lunch time.

"We should go and check Nguyen Nam if he found the yellow paper."

I don't know if there are other games like what Minh Thu told me. Maybe it varied between classes, but she is indeed right - half the students died when we all entered the library. We already have 14/30 students dead, which means one more will die - which we didn't know. Damn the curse. Ha Giang, Bao Ngoc, and Dan Thuy huddled, discussing the possibilities of other games. Quoc Trung noted down the dead students, his voice worried as he head towards Nguyen Nam:

"Nguyen Nam, report."

Nguyen Nam sighed, his tough facade cracking for a moment:

"Don't blame me. Those idiots - friends of Cat Minh - didn't even check the name tag and got killed. Just... I... I'm sorry... I just..."

Everyone's eyes bored into him.

"You aren't wrong. They're just foolish, and it's not anyone's fault if they die - we can die here anytime. We have to keep moving on to get out of here, you hear me?"

Dan Thuy put a hand on his shoulders squeezing it lightly. Nguyen Nam shuddered, burst into tears as he leaned into her embrace. Nhat Khoi flinched a bit, then turned to me. I raised a brow:

"Yes?"

Nhat Khoi sighed, turned away then explained:

"It's kinda rare seeing Nguyen Nam breaking down. It took a toll on him..."

"You've been crying?"

I quipped. Clearly, his eyes are red and watery, he's sniffing too. He scowled, crossing his arms defiantly:

"Damn right I did."

"Figures. I was on edge all the time, I killed Duy in the process. What did you guys do out there? Did you guys find the paper?"

"Well, we found the paper, and Nguyen Nam himself crawled in with Bao Quan. The tentacles shot out - so Duc Thanh quickly threw his phone into the tunnel knowing it's weakness for light. Both of them retrieved the paper and were crawling out. The lighting wasn't enough since the tentacles were swarming them like ants devouring sugar. Duc Thanh's phone died, Nguyen Nam was pulled backwards into the shelf... He... Bao Quan... Pulled Nguyen Nam out with sheer force... But... He... got devoured..."

Nhat Khoi admitted, his eyes watery by now. My gaze darkened. So the prophecy was true. Half of the class will die after entering the library. From the start of the day to the moment, there were 14 students who died, and the 15th person is Bao Quan. To be frank, Bao Quan is the friend you always wanted. He's soft spoken, polite, helpful and great in academics. We've talked a few times in the past, and I always had a great impression about him. Seeing him die in a grotesque death like that, the curiosity of finding the being behind all this fueled my determination. Nhat Khoi interrupted abruptly, his voice harsh:

"Did you say... that you killed Dang Duy?"

"Yes... I did. I thought he was a liability..."

I averted my gaze awkwardly, my throat going dry in an instant. Dang Duy, Anh Quan, Nhat Khoi and I are good friends, we often talk in P.E class. Nhat Khoi is exceptionally close to Anh Quan and Dang Duy.

"I..."

I stuttered, finding no words to defend myself. I betrayed him. Worse, I betrayed our friendship between all of us. Morally, I would regret it deeply. The choice would haunt me as the journey went on, gnawing my heart. I should've known better... People still have attachments, and if I don't have friends, I shouldn't hurt others because of my own pain. But rationally, what I did was a fatal mistake. Anh Quan is the direct, blunt person I wanted to avoid the most. He could eliminate me for revenge.

I'm not the most useful pawn out there, and I've yearned to be useful enough to be seen. No one would run to me if they don't need something for me. They almost forgot my existence. I was here because I'm the monitor... Not because I'm important... I'm disposable. Disposable. And being a liability doesn't offer you survival. That's why I feared being eliminated.

"Nhat Khoi... I wasn't thinking straight... It's my fault, not thinking about your friendship and what he did. I... I have no words. Forgive me...!"

I explained, my voice filled with guilt. It's pathetic. I have no words to defend myself, not even a word of comfort. Nhat Khoi shook me, his eyes were full of frustration, anger, betrayal, trust being shattered. He grabbed my collar, screaming:

"Why?! Anh, out of all people, why...?! Why Duy? Well you see, you can choose anyone in the list, but why the hell your friend - my friend!"

His eyes burned, overflowing with anger, grief, betrayal—everything all at once. It felt like his trust shattered right in front of me. Then, just as suddenly, his rage crumbled. He let me go, stumbling back, wiping his face with shaking hands. His voice was hoarse, broken:

"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't scream at you. I know... I know this is what's best."

That collapse hit harder than his anger. My chest twisted. His words weren't forgiveness—they were resignation. He wasn't blaming me anymore, because he had nothing left to blame.

"I completely destroyed you..."

The thought clawed at me. This wasn't acceptance. This was someone breaking. I reached out, my hand trembling, hovering just above his shoulder.

"Khoi... Tch. "

But I pulled back. My throat locked up. It would be no use. Nothing I could say could reach him now. Then he broke. His knees gave out, his fists slamming against the floor.

"No... no, no, no... Not Duy... he can't—he can't just—"

His voice was strangled, collapsing into an incoherent mess of wails. And then, suddenly, he scrambled up, stumbling past me. He nearly tripped as he rushed toward Đan Thuy, his voice trembling, desperate, begging for something—anything—to hold onto. He gripped onto her shoulders, drowning in grief. Thuy pulled him into her chest, muttering calming phrases:

"Thuy! Please—tell me this isn't real—please—say something, do something—he can't be gone—"

He clung to her like a child drowning, his entire body shaking. His sobs echoed against the walls, cutting through the air sharper than any accusation. He clutched Thuy's shirt, sobbing frantically as he buried his face in her shoulders, chest heaving from crying. I just stood there, frozen like a coward. My hand hovered, useless, trembling.

"Khoi... I..."

But no words came. I had broken him. And the worst part? He wasn't running to me anymore.

Internal thoughts: I turned around. Dan Thuy, Ha Giang and Bao Ngoc were huddled together. Tch, I am such a delusional person. Bao Ngoc completely ignored me. When I ran towards her earlier after she passed the history round, she was there hugging Ha Giang, but I ignored it. The phrase I read from the book to avoid being killed was actually Tue Linh helping me all along since she's my seatmate - that's why I didn't even suspect her in the first place. Thai Phong sat with Nguyen Nam, and I was the one imagining things. I cling on to the friendship that wasn't mine anymore. Damn it all... Was I seeing visions all the time? The events are reeling in my head, taunting me for trying to escape reality with hallucinations. The note didn't even exist in the first place, it was just me writing to myself... I should get out of this damn nightmare-

"What did you guys find?"

I was set back to reality when Dan Thuy asked Nguyen Nam. Nguyen Nam shrugged, holding a piece of yellow paper:

"We only found the clue from Ms Chu Anh's words earlier. The one in the Revolutionary section."

"Why did you guys take such a long time? It's only a piece of paper and the tentacles are afraid of light. Maybe you enjoyed a sweet time inside the tunnel."

Anh Quan scoffed. Quoc Trung patted Nguyen Nam's back. Nam's chest heaved, his fists shaking as if he was still holding Bao Quan's blood on his hands.

"He's gone. Quan—he... he fell right in front of me. His head—"

His words cut off, strangled by a sob he tried to swallow.

"I couldn't... I couldn't stop it. I just stood there. Like an idiot. Like a useless coward."

Quoc Trung opened his mouth, but Nam's voice surged louder, desperate, hysterical.

"Do you get it?! He was supposed to be with me. We promised we'd make it out of this hell together—and now he's gone, Trung! Gone, because I wasn't strong enough, because I let him—because I let him die!"

He slammed his fists against the floor, over and over, until his knuckles split, his eyes wild with grief.

"I should've been the one! Not him, never him! Why not me?! Tell me, why wasn't it me?!"

Then his rage collapsed in on itself, leaving only broken words. His voice lowered to a whisper, trembling, hollow:

"...He's gone. Quan is gone, and I killed him. I let him down, Trung... I let my best friend die."

The room went silent. The weight of Nam's words hung over us heavier than the death itself.

Another teacher stepped in, breaking the tense atmosphere. She looked quite elderly - short, grey locks, a soft smile on her lips. She looks more like a sanctuary than the butcher in this living hell. Her presence alone sent chills down my spine for no reason. My instincts flared up, telling me to run. She wore a flowery dress stained with crimson, yet every step she took exuded a sweet rosy scent that made me sick.

"My dear students, why not entertain ourselves with another game? Would you like a game of knowledge or a traditional game? Or maybe a whole new game?"

She asked, her voice velvety and seductive - it doesn't quite match the mature appearance she showed. We halted our motions, stared at her like we just saw a ghost. The supervisor already disappeared without a trace, the pool of blood on the floor mysteriously vanished without our knowledge.

What games are they on this time?

GAME TIME. 

Note: Deep down inside, Bao Quan and Dang Duy's deaths were overlooked. My classmate quickly rushed for survival, completely forgetting the people who contributed to their survival. How quick for them - leaving Anh Quan, Nguyen Nam, and Nhat Khoi silently grieving.