That was the first thing Salim perceived. It wasn't the flickering, dim fluorescent hum of the bus interior, but a soft, warm, and inviting morning glow. It filtered through his eyelids, gently coaxing his consciousness back to the surface after what felt like an eternity in a lightless abyss.
Salim opened his eyes.
He was not in a cramped bus seat. He didn't smell the stale odor of vehicle upholstery or the sour scent of forty sweating teenagers. Instead, his senses were greeted by the crisp aroma of high-thread-count linen and the subtle, refreshing scent of citrus drifting from a nearby diffuser.
His body lay atop an oversized king-size mattress, one so plush it felt as if he were floating on a cloud. Above him, the ceiling was high and pristine white, adorned with a minimalist yet artistic chandelier that glowed with a soft, warm amber.
"Am I... in heaven?" Salim murmured, his voice raspy and foreign to his own ears.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position. The agonizing headache, the nausea, and the terrifying numbness that had plagued him on the bus had vanished without a trace. In fact, his body felt strangely rejuvenated. His limbs felt light, and the chronic back pain he usually suffered from late-night studying had been completely erased.
Most unsettling of all was his vision. Salim, who usually suffered from mild myopia and had to squint the moment he woke up, could now see the individual fibers of the silk duvet with crystalline clarity without his glasses. He instinctively reached for the nightstand, found his spectacles, and put them on out of habit, though they now felt somewhat redundant.
"WAKE UP, SLEEPING BEAUTY!"
A plush pillow sailed through the air, hitting Salim squarely in the face.
Salim swatted the pillow away, startled. Across the sprawling suite, Dani was jumping up and down on his own bed like a toddler high on a massive sugar rush. He was wearing only silk boxers, clutching a remote control that operated the automated floor-to-ceiling curtains.
"Look, Lim! Look!" Dani shouted hysterically, pointing toward the massive glass window that spanned the entire length of the room. "This is insane! This is a seven-star hotel! The walls are literally made of glass!"
On a third bed near the door, Rizki sat calmly, wrapped in a thick, white terry-cloth bathrobe. He was sipping a cup of coffee from a high-end capsule espresso machine that sat on a marble counter.
"Morning, Lim," Rizki greeted him with a wide, relaxed smile. "Sleep well? We've arrived. And it seems Mr. Adrian wasn't lying about the facilities. This place is beyond anything I've ever seen."
Salim swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet sank into a thick, wool carpet. He walked toward the giant window, and the view outside forced the breath from his lungs.
They were on an incredibly high floor. Below them lay a breathtaking futuristic resort complex. Terraced infinity pools with turquoise water cascaded into one another, surrounded by precision-engineered geometric tropical gardens and white, cubic buildings that looked like a sci-fi film set. Beyond the resort, the vast, open sea stretched toward the horizon, reflecting a sun that felt a little too bright, a little too perfect.
"Where are we?" Salim asked, his voice still tinged with suspicion.
"Private Island, bro!" Dani shouted, jumping down and throwing an arm around Salim's shoulder. "I checked the hotel info channel on the TV. This place is called 'The Sanctuary.' It's a hidden island in the northern territories. Can you believe it? And it's free, Lim! All of this is absolutely free!"
Salim touched the cold glass. Everything looked real. Everything looked beautiful. Too beautiful.
"Don't you guys find this weird?" Salim asked, turning to face his friends. "Last we remember, we were on a bus. We were drugged. We experienced a mass blackout. And now we wake up here, already changed into new clothes?"
Salim realized he was no longer wearing his school uniform or his denim jacket. He was wearing light gray silk pajamas.
"My clothes..." Salim felt the fabric. "Who changed me?"
"Hotel staff, obviously. Not ghosts," Dani answered dismissively, grabbing an apple from a fruit basket on the table. "They probably carried us from the bus to a ferry, then brought us here while we were out. Top-tier service, Lim. Don't overthink it for once. Just enjoy the billionaire lifestyle."
"I agree with Dani, Lim," Rizki added, setting his cup down. "The method was extreme—the sleeping gas or whatever was in the vaccine—but it was probably just to prevent motion sickness during the sea crossing. Look at the result. I feel incredible. The aches from my basketball practice yesterday are gone. That medicine actually works."
Salim fell silent. Rizki's logic was sound from a management perspective. If the goal was comfort, sedating passengers to avoid the discomfort of a rough sea journey was an efficient, albeit unethical, solution. And the feeling of vitality in his body was an undeniable fact.
Salim walked into the bathroom. It was clad in black Nero Marquina marble, equipped with a digital shower and an automated toilet. He splashed cold water on his face.
In the mirror, he studied his reflection. There were no dark circles under his eyes. His skin looked healthier, almost glowing.
"Nano-machines..." Salim whispered, recalling sci-fi theories he had read. He shook his head. No, that was impossible. That technology didn't exist yet. It had to be just high-dosage vitamins and a good rest.
"Hurry up and shower! We have to gather in the Ballroom for the Welcome Dinner!" Dani hammered on the door from the outside. "They said there's Lobster Thermidor!"
The Grand Ballroom was more of a royal palace than a hotel hall. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, white silk tablecloths draped over large round tables, and perfectly groomed servers moved with silent grace, carrying silver platters.
All two hundred Rajawali High students were there. They all looked refreshed, smelling of expensive soap, and wearing semi-formal attire that had been pre-fitted in their wardrobes.
"Salim!"
Maya waved from Table 4. She looked radiant in a simple, light blue summer dress. Rinto sat beside her, looking smug in a designer polo shirt, laughing as he chatted with Sucipto.
Salim approached the table briefly.
"Hey, Maya. You okay?" Salim asked.
"I'm amazing!" Maya answered enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. "I slept so well, Salim. Sweet dreams. And when I woke up, I felt like I was reborn. How about you? Are you still wearing the bracelet?"
Salim pulled back the sleeve of his shirt slightly, revealing the paracord bracelet. "Still on. I'm not taking it off."
Maya offered a relieved smile. "Good. Why don't you sit with us?"
"He can't, Maya. Assignments are by room groups," Rinto cut in sharply, shooting Salim a disdainful look. "Get back to your peasant table, Salim."
Salim ignored Rinto. He scanned the room. At Group 27's table, he saw his teammates.
Salma was inspecting the silverware with a critical eye, her expression suspicious but softening. Udin was staring at the empty plates with a predatory hunger. Alya was observing the crystal glass in front of her with clinical interest. Rehan... Rehan was hunched under the table, likely checking for a network signal.
Salim began walking toward his table. However, halfway there, his stomach churned. It wasn't hunger; it was a sudden, sharp cramping. Perhaps a reaction to the sudden metabolic shift.
"I'll be right back. Bathroom," Salim told Dani as he passed their table.
Salim walked out of the Ballroom, into the quiet, opulent corridor. The restroom was at the end of the hall, near the staff and kitchen access area.
The corridor was silent, the thick carpet swallowing his footsteps. The walls were decorated with modern abstract paintings that seemed to shift slightly if he looked at them too long.
As Salim finished washing his hands, he heard voices coming from behind a "Staff Only" door that was slightly ajar across from the restroom.
The voices were deep, serious, and chillingly familiar.
"Subjects in Sector 3 are showing excellent neural responses. Synchronization has reached 98%."
Salim froze. His wet hands hung in the air. Subjects? Sector 3?
He crept toward the gap in the door, peering inside with one eye.
Inside the room—which looked more like a high-tech surveillance hub filled with monitors—stood two men. One wore a white lab coat, and the other wore the familiar batik uniform of a Rajawali High teacher.
It was Pak Bambang. The Civics teacher. The man who taught them about social justice.
Salim's heart skipped a beat.
"What about the dosage for the larger ones? Like Asset Number 045?" Pak Bambang asked. His voice sounded concerned, but it was the concern of a manager, not a teacher.
"Adjusted, Sir," the scientist replied, pointing to a graph on a screen. "We increased the sedative dosage by 20% during the transit. His memory is stable now. He won't remember the pain of the injection."
"Good," Pak Bambang nodded. "I don't want parents complaining about trauma. Ensure they are all happy. Make sure they believe this is a vacation. We need their mental states at their peak before... the testing phase begins."
"Don't worry. Environmental manipulation is active. We are stimulating their dopamine production through the ventilation system."
Salim backed away slowly, his breath hitching in his throat.
His world collapsed.
Pak Bambang... the man they trusted... was an accomplice. He was a 'handler.'
Salim turned, intending to run back to the Ballroom to warn his friends. However, his eyes caught something bizarre on the corridor wall.
An elegant, antique analog clock.
The second hand was moving.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
But the minute hand was stuck at 12. And the hour hand was stuck at 7.
Salim watched the clock for ten seconds. The second hand completed a full circle, returning to 12. But the minute hand didn't move forward. The second hand kept spinning, but the time didn't change.
"Time..." Salim whispered, cold sweat pouring down his back. "Is the clock broken? Or..."
He looked out the corridor window. The sun was shining brightly. But the shadow of the palm tree in the garden... it wasn't moving. The leaves were rustling as if there were a breeze, but the shadows on the ground remained fixed in the exact same position.
Salim touched the wall. It felt smooth, far too smooth. He tapped it. The sound wasn't the dull thud of reinforced concrete; it was a hollow, metallic ting-ting. Like a paneled plastic shell.
"It's fake," Salim's breathing grew frantic. "This whole place is fake."
He ran back to the Ballroom. The doors swung open. The sound of laughter and the clinking of silverware greeted him. Hundreds of his classmates were eating heartily, their faces glowing with a false health, deceived by the illusion of comfort.
Dani waved at him, his mouth full of lobster. "Lim! Over here! This is incredible!"
Salim stood at the threshold, staring at them with horror. He saw Principal Handoko on the main stage, raising a wine glass filled with a deep red liquid.
"Enjoy your farewell dinner... with your old world," Salim whispered, realizing the double meaning of the situation.
They weren't hotel guests. They were lab rats being fattened up before being pushed into the maze.
Salim walked slowly toward Group 27's table. His face was ghostly pale, a stark contrast to the refreshed faces of his friends.
"Salim? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Alya asked, her medical instincts immediately flaring.
Salim slumped into his chair. He leaned forward, staring at Salma, Udin, Rehan, and Alya.
"Don't eat," Salim whispered, his voice trembling. "Or if you must, just pretend. Don't swallow."
"Why? Is there poison?" Udin asked, his fork freezing mid-air.
"Worse," Salim locked eyes with them. "This place... this hotel... the teachers... it's all a lie. we aren't in a hotel. We are inside an incubator."
Before Salma could ask for clarification, the Ballroom lights suddenly went out.
Absolute darkness.
Shouts of surprise and mild panic erupted from several tables.
"Stay calm! It's just a temporary power outage!" Principal Handoko's voice boomed, sounding nervous.
Then, through the darkness, a mechanical voice resonated from the speakers. It was different from Mr. Adrian. It was a cold, emotionless female voice—like a digital assistant with a lethal edge.
"Good evening, Participants. Acclimatization period complete. Nano-Machine synchronization: 100%. Phase One: Initiation of the Long Sleep begins in 3... 2... 1..."
Wooooossshhhh.
The sound of hissing gas erupted from the AC vents throughout the room. A colorless, odorless white mist spread rapidly in the dark.
"Hold your breath!" Salim shouted, covering his nose and mouth with a silk napkin.
But it was too late. The gas wasn't a standard sleeping agent that entered through the lungs. It reacted with their skin, reacted with their sweat, and triggered the Nano-Machines already coursing through their veins.
One by one, students who were standing collapsed like dolls with their strings cut. The sound of bodies hitting the floor was a rhythmic, terrifying thud. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Salim saw Dani fall, his face landing in his lobster plate. He saw Rinto collapse on top of Maya.
Salim tried to hold on. He saw Salma's eyes roll back as she slumped in her chair. Udin tried to stand up to fight, but his legs gave way and he crashed into the table.
"Damn it..." Salim thought as his consciousness was violently yanked into a black abyss far deeper than the one before.
In the final second before his vision failed, Salim saw a massive digital clock on the stage glow a bright, bleeding red.
The numbers didn't show the time.
The numbers were a countdown: 09:59:59.
And beneath it, the words appeared: WELCOME TO THE GAME.
Salim hit the floor. The luxury world dissolved, replaced by the true nightmare.