Prologue
"Are you guys done taking criminal photos of me?"
Simon Petrikov scowled, his wrists cuffed as he stood against the grimy wall.
"Don't talk while I'm trying to get your mugshot," grunted the officer.
"Oh yeah, mugshot, whatever," Simon muttered.
Right… How the hell had it come to this?
Oh, right. His name was Simon Petrikov, and he'd been arrested for murdering four teenagers.
At the same time, they kept saying.
Which was bullshit, honestly. There was at least a two to six-minute gap between each one. Technically speaking.
Not like they didn't deserve it.
Those little shits had splashed soda all over him and then laughed, saying, "It's just a prank!"
What kind of psychopath did that to a total stranger?
So yeah, Simon made them see God. Literally.
And now he was here. Because he killed those kids.
"Your mugshot's done. You can continue the procedure."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you happy, fatass cop," Simon replied, under his breath.
Even though fatass said he could "continue the procedure," he was still stuck standing around like an idiot.
God, these cops were stupid.
Why say "YoU cAn CoNtInUe ThE PrOcEdUrE" if he just had to wait around doing nothing?
He missed his phone.
A group of officers were talking to a man in a black suit across the room. It looked like they were negotiating something.
Eventually, the man in black walked over to Simon.
"Huh? Who the hell are you? My lawyer? Great. I need someone to defend me. I've got the money."
The man said nothing.
He just stared. Silent.
Too silent.
And that silence pissed Simon off.
Why the hell wasn't this guy talking?
Then, without a word, the man pulled a stun gun from his pocket and jabbed it into Simon's chest.
White.
Everything turned white.
The suited man stepped over to the officers.
"I've secured the item. Good job finding someone like this."
"We didn't find him," one officer scoffed. "That idiot killed four teenagers just because they splashed soda on him and said it was a prank. Didn't even hesitate. Just… boom. All four."
"Some people can't control their temper," the suited man said calmly. "But this one… he's different. Might be a straight-up psychopath."
"Probably. You should've seen the victims' bodies. You'd puke just from looking."
"Is it really that bad?"
"It's that bad."
"Then…" The suited man glanced toward the door. "This man might be our first winner."
Simon woke up in a large, sterile white room.
His head pounded.
There were others lying nearby—unconscious.
So, he wasn't the only one dragged here.
As he sat up, scanning for exits, shuffling noises echoed behind him.
People were waking up. One by one.
Some screamed the moment they opened their eyes.
Some stayed dead silent.
Some got pissed immediately.
Simon counted.
Twenty-seven others.
Including him, that made twenty-eight.
Why the hell were they all in the same place?
Had someone kidnapped them?
Or maybe some of them came here voluntarily.
Hell, maybe one or two were assassins, sent to wipe out the rest.
Either way, he couldn't let his guard down.
Roughly two hours later, a voice crackled through a speaker overhead.
"Huuu, test test… yep, looks like the mic's working. So… hi everyone!"
"Huh?"
"What?"
"Who the hell is that?"
"Hey! Where are we? What's going on?!"
"We, huh? Already making friends in two hours? How human of you… even though…"
The voice trailed off.
Something in the pause made Simon's spine crawl.
"All of you in that room… are criminals."
"Criminals?"
"Criminals?! What the hell do you mean by that? I didn't even commit a crime!"
"Mei Chang Li, right?" the voice asked. "Judging by your expression, I'm correct."
Simon turned to see the girl—Mei—freeze.
"You were accused of killing two children—initials L and F," the voice continued. "You tortured them. Slowly. Ripped their bodies apart while laughing. Let one of the kids watch the other die, so he'd know he was next. And we found the footage on your phone when we raided your house."
"...What?"
"Did she really do that?" someone whispered.
"She's insane… I'm staying the hell away from her," said another.
Mei's face drained of all color. Her hands clenched until blood trickled from her palms.
Yeah. The guy wasn't lying.
Then Mei snapped.
"So that means… everyone here's a criminal?" she shouted.
"Yep," the voice replied, cheerful as ever. "Every single one of you in that room has committed an insane crime."
Insane, huh?
Simon frowned.
He just killed four teenagers.
Quickly. Efficiently.
Not even that bad.
…Okay, maybe it was that bad.
"Can we know what the worst crime was?" Mei asked.
"Of course not, Mai. Don't be a dumbass. But I can tell you what the least insane crime was."
"Ooooh, what is it?! Tell me!"
"Chill out," the voice replied. "The least insane crime here was… killing a group of teenagers."
"…That's it?"
"Yep. That's it."
"Can we know who did it?"
"No."
Simon smirked.
Well, well, well.
Looks like his crime was the most normal one in the room.
He'd been charged with first- and second-degree murder.
And now?
Now he had to survive whatever the hell this place was.
Because he'd heard the rumors.
A secret government facility.
Where criminals with fucked-up records got tossed into a sealed arena…
And were forced to kill each other until only one was left standing.
The winner walked free.
There was another version, too. Some kind of twisted game.
Cruel, sadistic trials designed to test them.
Rumor had it the game types were even more brutal than a simple battle royale.
Either way—
Simon had only one option.
Survive.