He endured the night in a half-dream, half-awake state amidst the apocalyptic symphony of the storm.
When he opened his eyes again, the shelter was dimly lit.
He unlatched the door, only to find the snowdrift piled up halfway, allowing just a tiny gap to peer outside.
"Whoosh—!"
Outside, the wind howled like a knife scraping glass, no longer just white but a chaotic grayish white, with visibility less than a meter.
"The storm continues, even more ferociously than yesterday."
He glanced at the time on the camera.
November 20, 2021
"Good morning, as you can see, I'm trapped."
He spoke calmly to the camera, though his eyes were grave: "It seems like today, tomorrow, and perhaps the day after, I can't go anywhere. I don't know how the other contestants are doing either."
In this completely isolated and secluded environment, time seemed to stretch, with every minute feeling extraordinarily long.
