As the sun dips below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the mansion's facade, I find myself unable to relax. Everything feels so forced, starting from my friends’ laughter and chatter, as if we're all just going through the motions aimlessly. Like we’re not humans, but marionettes driven by a mysterious entity.

I excuse myself to head back to my room. At every step I take through the flight of stairs, the weight of my suspicions grows heavier. I need clear answers right now. I'm not sure how much longer I can wait for them to be handed to me.

Once inside, after shutting the door behind me, I pull out the necklace again. Yeah, the one that has raised questions inside me more than anything else. I stand by the window as I watch it glow under the soft light, the gemstones gleaming as if they come alive, revealing secrets of their own.

Without warning the others, I decide to take another look around the mansion, this time with more purpose and a clearer idea of where to go. The necklace feels warm in my hand, as if it were a sort of guide.

I tiptoe my way through the hallways, while I can perceive the sound of my bare feet on the cold marble floors as it echoes through the empty corridors. It’s like the mansion is alive, holding its breath around me, and knows I'm searching for something it's trying to hide with every means.

Here I am, in front of the same door I found yesterday while exploring the area with the others. It's slightly ajar, the darkness within beckoning. This time I’m prepared: a few hours ago, I found a bunch of keys hanging on a wall by the downstairs bathroom and decided to keep them with me for this particular circumstance, wondering what doors they can open.

My heart hammers in my chest as I start trying the keys. The third one is the right one. After I hear the click of the key in the keyhole, I gently push the door open; then, as I’m inside, I close it behind me with the same tact. The room beyond that door is small and bare, with no obvious purpose other than to hold a single, ornate chair in what seems to be a rare, precious material. I can’t make out which it is, though.

On the chair sits a figure, shrouded in shadows. I’m not sure if I can recognize it or describe it properly. All I know is that they don’t seem to have good intentions. "Welcome, Silla Pierce," a cold, unfamiliar voice says. It must belong to the shadowy figure sitting in front of me. I’m not exactly sure because I can’t see their face, but it has to be them talking. "You've passed the first test."

“How… how do you know my name?” I ask, trying my best to keep myself from stuttering.

The figure rises, and the shadows fall away, revealing a man in an impeccable brown suit. His deep eyes bore into mine, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. "You're curious, I can see that. But curiosity can be a dangerous thing. Almost deadly, I dare say. Are you prepared to know the truth about why you're here?"

I nod, clutching my precious necklace in my right hand. Meanwhile, the mysterious man makes his way to the door, blocking the path to it. This means I’m unable to leave for the time being.

I can hear the door click shut behind me, and I realize that this is no longer a game, nor a pleasant escape as POTENTIAL+ described in its numerous brochures and presentations introducing it. "20 Days of Freedom" has gradually turned into something much more complex, and I'm not sure if my friends and I are meant to be the players or mere pawns at the hand of someone I’m not sure I can identify. In the meantime, the man's smile is chilling, like an icy wave disrupting summer. His words hang in the air like a promise—or, rather, a threat.

"What's going on?" I demand, my voice shaking slightly despite my attempts to keep my composure intact. "What is this place?"

The moment he steps into the light, my heart skips a beat—or more than one, to say the least. "This," he replies, making wide gestures to the opulent room we've all been calling home over the past days, "is a place where you can truly find out who you are, Silla. But remember: freedom comes with a cost, and I’m not sure you’re ready to know what it is."

With that, he vanishes through a back door, leaving me alone with the echo of his footsteps. How many passages are even here? I try to figure out how he left the room, but to no avail. He only knows how, but who knows if he’ll be back? The main door remains shut, and when I try to open it, I find it locked.

Unless I want to be trapped here for a long time, I have to remember which key opens it. All I know is that what I've found isn't going to stay hidden for long, and not simply because I’m sharing it with the others later. The more I stay here, the more the walls seem to close in. 

This mansion, which has been presented as a charming amenity, now feels like the exact opposite: a ruthless prison. I'm torn between sheer panic and a strange excitement. Whatever this place is, it's about to show us a side of ourselves we've never seen before. As that mysterious man said, however, are we ready to face it?

Meanwhile, I recall the correct key to open the door; after five minutes that seem like an eternity, I leave the room and make my way back to the group. The necklace is now a burning question against my skin, so I take off as soon as I’m in the comfort of my bedroom, where the girls are barely keeping themselves from cringing at Anton’s not so funny puns.

The mysterious man's words play on repeat in my mind as we start planning our next day of supposed fun. “Supposed” because, now, it’s clear there are ulterior motives behind our stay here. The tension is palpable, and I know that it's only a matter of time before the truth comes out. That same question keeps resurfacing from time to time: will we be ready to face it and, if so, when?

***

The next day starts like any other. Breakfast together, then a game or two to keep the friendly competitive banter between Anton and Kat going. Unlike before, this seems less of a carefree vacation. We're not our usual lively, full of energy selves.

We’re all rather subdued, to the point that our smiles don’t reach our eyes. If this were a happier situation, Anton would call all of us, including himself, a bunch of soulless zombies. As we sit around the breakfast table, sipping our coffee and nibbling at our toast, the air feels thick with unspoken tension that can hit its breaking point at any moment.

"I think we should talk," I say, breaking the silence like a deadly thunder on a hot, sunny day.

“Why so?” asks Kat with her mouth full.

I frown at her, annoyed at her lack of seriousness. "About what we found last night."

Anton raises an eyebrow. "What's there to talk about? It's just part of the game." Can’t he understand the gravity of the situation? How is it possible he only sees it as an afterthought? At this point, he’s being naïf.

Fortunately for me, Brianna nods in agreement, her expression serious. "No. Guys, Silla's right. There's something weird going on here. Listen to us, for once."

Kat looks up from her magazine, but her reaction to Brianna’s pleading look doesn’t change. She maintains a blank stare as she grinds her teeth. "You guys are just overthinking it. It's all just for the experience. The earlier you realize that, the better."

Lindsey, however, is watching me closely, her eyes sharper than ever. She knows something, I can feel it. And I suspect she's been waiting for one of us to say something.

"I don't know what's going on," I admit, "but we can't just ignore it. We need to figure out what's happening. There’s not much time left. We can’t leave with unanswered questions."

The room falls silent, and for a hot moment, no-one says anything else. Then, as if a collective decision has already been made, we all push back from the table. While Anton and Kat leave the kitchen, upset at mine and Brianna’s position, the two of us stay behind to tidy up, joined by Lindsey.