He didn't want to move.
But he stood up.
Not because he wanted to—because those who refuse… are dragged.
Moments ago, the short grey rabbit had started pointing at the children one by one.
No words, no orders, just a short glance, then a finger extending toward the chosen one.
And they stepped forward.
The first was called. He walked.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Some came back minutes later, sitting silently with stone-like expressions.
Others… never returned.
By the door, the rabbit stood firm, its head tilted, watching those who entered and left as if measuring something unseen.
One child whispered, barely audible:
> "Whoever goes in… never comes out the same."
Freyja was sitting next to Donfry, hugging her knees to her chest. She whispered:
> "Why doesn't anyone talk? What do they see in there?"
He didn't answer.
He was busy counting who returned… and who didn't.
Then… the rabbit pointed at him.
---
The room… was featureless.
Its ceiling was dark, the walls dim black.
In the center, a single chair stood, beneath a white light like a blade, aimed straight at his face.
He sat.
The moment his feet touched the ground, silence fell.
A thick silence… even his own breath sounded foreign to him.
Then, from somewhere in the dark, a voice came—formless:
> "Hello, Donfry."
He froze.
> "That little girl's hand… was it cold? Or warm, before it slipped from your friend's grasp?"
A shiver ran down his spine.
He couldn't see who was speaking, but the voice wrapped around his mind—it pulsed inside him.
> "If it were your sister… would you have held on tighter?"
He didn't reply.
> "And if it were Freyja?… Would you have risked the same way? Or is it easier to choose when you don't know who dies?"
He clenched his fists on the edges of his pants.
> "If we gave you the chance… to let someone die, who would you choose?
Your rival? One of the rabbits? Or… yourself?"
He didn't answer, but his body trembled for a moment.
> "Let me help you a little…"
Suddenly, a small screen lit up in front of him—a shard of light in the wall of darkness.
On the screen… a face.
A laugh.
His rival.
The same laugh he let out when the girl was crushed.
But now… the laugh repeated, in unnatural slowness, as if tearing at his memory.
He closed his eyes.
> "Don't close your eyes. This isn't a resting room. This… is your mirror."
> "Do you remember the moment? When you reached for his neck?
How many times did you wish you'd finished it?
How many times did you imagine him dead before you?"
He almost spoke.
But the words choked.
His knee trembled, his breath quickened.
> "You're a child, or so the world says…
But we see you. We see the little animal inside.
Is it asleep… or training to kill?"
The screen vanished.
The light dimmed.
Then the voice whispered:
> "Your face… is no longer yours.
Even your heart, we can reshape it."
A small door behind him opened.
He stood… and walked out.
---
He returned to the same hall.
Same rusty beds, same pale eyes.
Freyja stood immediately, ran to him:
> "What happened? What did they say?"
He didn't answer.
He sat quietly, his shoulders weighed by a burden beyond explanation.
Everything had changed.
Faces were no longer faces… but masks.
Eyes no longer looked… they hunted.
---
Minutes later… another boy entered.
The same boy who had been silently observing everyone since the beginning.
He sat in his usual corner, without saying a word.
One child whispered:
> "That one… didn't say a thing. Not there… not here."
> "He didn't speak?"
> "Not a single word."
> "And what did the rabbit say to him?"
> "Nothing… but he didn't laugh."
---
And finally… the blond boy was called.
He entered… then returned.
But he laughed.
Laughed like he'd come out of a play, not a torture room.
He sat in the center and raised his voice:
> "They asked me who I want to die. I said: everyone who cries.
They asked if I'd ever thought of killing… and I answered: is there even life without killing?"
He laughed again.
Some children lowered their heads.
Some trembled.
But the boy in the corner… raised his eyes, for the first time.
What did the silent boy see in there?