I rose slowly to my feet, forcing patience into my trembling limbs as the timer bled away above us.
Natasha folded her arms, a mocking smile dancing on her lips.
"You're waiting for some arrows, aren't you?"
"Take a look," Zoah said calmly.
I glanced at the system screen.
Green.
My eyes widened. Natasha was right.
"Oh my God… how is that even possible?"
"I'm the real genius here," Natasha declared proudly, brushing imaginary dust off her shoulder.
"Why smiles?" I asked cautiously.
"Because there's a mile between each S."
Silence.
Then realization struck.
"Wow," Zoah muttered, clearly impressed. "Who would've thought of that?"
"No one but me." Natasha laughed softly, pleased with herself.
"There's a mile between each S," I repeated under my breath just as another riddle flashed across the glowing screen.
It has keys but no locks.
It has space but no room.
You can enter, but you can't go inside.
Natasha read it aloud before immediately snapping her fingers.
"This room, obviously."
She reached to type the answer, but I grabbed her wrist.
"What now?" she hissed.
I stared at her in disbelief.
"You cannot be serious."
She narrowed her eyes.
"This is a room," I explained carefully. "The riddle literally says no room. And where are the keys? We're trapped in here, yet there are no locks. Your answer makes absolutely no sense."
Natasha frowned.
"Is this even a room? It's just four walls and empty space. And aren't keys and locks practically the same thing?"
"Arguing won't help," Zoah interrupted coldly. "We have less than a minute left."
The countdown continued to flash blood-red above us.
I forced myself to focus.
"It has keys but no locks…" I muttered. "So it can't be a door. It has space but no room… so not a building. You can enter, but you can't go inside…"
"That's the creepiest part," Natasha whispered uneasily.
"What can someone enter without actually going inside?"
"Nothing," I said honestly.
Then something clicked.
"Unless…" I froze. "Unless it means the Enter key."
Zoah's sharp gaze lifted.
"What has an Enter key?" I breathed.
"A keyboard," Natasha and I said at the exact same time.
She hurriedly typed the answer.
Correct.
Relief swept through me so fast my knees almost gave out.
"This actually makes sense," I said with a shaky smile.
"For once," Natasha replied smugly.
Another riddle appeared instantly.
Soft and fragile is my skin.
I get my growth in mud.
I'm dangerous as much as pretty.
For if not careful, I draw blood.
"This sounds more like a poem," I murmured.
"Unfortunately for us, it's still a riddle," Natasha replied.
I studied the glowing words carefully, but before I could think further, Zoah spoke.
"A thorn."
Natasha typed it in.
Correct again.
Of course it was.
It took someone cold to understand a cruel riddle so quickly.
And Zoah… Zoah was colder than anyone I had ever met.
My chest tightened as the memory resurfaced, the terror in my eyes when I watched him transform into a dragon.
The dragon I once saved.
Everything finally made sense.
Zoah had saved me twice because I had unknowingly saved him first.
And the ring…
His ring.
Thank God I never sold it.
Now I understood the truth.
Zoah was never human. He was something ancient. Something terrifying. A creature powerful enough to reduce kingdoms to ashes.
I deserved answers.
But not now.
Not until we obtained Herb C.
The final riddle for the stage appeared before us.
I held my breath.
The cost of making only the maker knows.
Valueless if bought, but sometimes traded.
A poor man may give one as easily as a king.
When one is broken, pain and deceit are assured.
Natasha read the words slowly before turning toward me with a smirk.
"You should answer this one. What do poor people give as easily as kings?"
The insult hit harder than I expected.
"I'm not poor," I muttered quietly. "I'm middle class."
Natasha scoffed.
"Poor. Middle class. Same thing."
My jaw tightened.
"It won't stay that way forever," I said firmly. "Once I graduate as a medical laboratory scientist, I'll get a good job, build a good life, and become rich."
Natasha laughed under her breath.
"That's exactly how poor people think." Her voice dripped with disdain. "You think working under someone else will make you rich? Spending your whole life exhausting yourself just to make your employer wealthier?"
She tilted her head mockingly.
"You people love working like elephants only to eat like ants."
Her words burned.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
"I'll rise someday," I said quietly. "And when I do, you'll never speak to me like this again."
For a brief moment, silence swallowed the room.
Then Zoah spoke, his voice low and dangerous.
"That was harsh."
Natasha ignored him completely.
Instead, she stepped forward and typed the answer with only three seconds left on the clock.
Promise.
Correct.
The screen glowed green once more.
I stared blankly at the word.
Promise.
The answer to the riddle… and somehow the answer to my life.
Earlier, Natasha claimed poor people could answer it easily.
And in the end, I had.
Because I understood the cost of a promise.
The pain of breaking one.
The fear of failing the future I swore I would build for myself.
A loud mechanical groan echoed through the chamber as an invisible door slowly slid open.
None of us hesitated this time.
We stepped through immediately.
On the other side was an elevator.
Cold.
Silent.
Wrong.
I reached for the control panel, intending to press a floor number.
But there were no buttons.
My stomach dropped.
Another game.
Another set of riddles.
And somehow… I knew the next stage would be far worse.