In a gloomy room, dim light squeezed out from the gap in the curtains like juice being extracted, dappling the floor. A young man struggled painfully to regain consciousness, his headache as if a horde of cavalry was rampaging in his brain. He summoned his pain to wrestle his way up and glanced around. The white walls and ceiling seemed to close in like four pressing walls, the oppressive and unfamiliar feeling strongly assaulting his nerves. He had no idea where he was, and couldn't even recall who he was.

  He made an effort to recover his memory, but his thoughts were obscured by a dense fog, leaving only an endless void. He searched for any trace of himself deep in his heart, but everything was reduced to zero.

  He decided to break the predicament of his thoughts by taking action and tried to stand up. However, his body was violently torn by pain, and he was in so much agony that he could hardly breathe. Yet, he stubbornly struggled. His fingers gripped the floor bit by bit, supporting his body in pain. It felt as though a ball of fire was burning in his chest.

  He found a small door in one corner of the room, and curiosity made him stagger towards it. He opened the door to find it was a shabby toilet. Despite its rundown condition, at least there was a toilet and a washbasin, which gave him a slight consolation.

  At this moment, a strange mirror caught his attention. Unlike the usual ones, this mirror looked like a slab of stone, with no reflection. He was intrigued by it and lightly knocked on it, only to hear a dull echo. He carefully observed his reflection, his face was pale, he was dressed in white patient clothes, looking weak and powerless. His black eyes were as deep as black holes, seeming to absorb his gaze, revealing a mysterious and fearful atmosphere.

  His hair messily covered his eyes. He sighed, shook his head, trying to get rid of those chaotic thoughts. He started to check his body, worried about obvious wounds or needle marks. After a careful examination, he let out a slight sigh of relief. There was no apparent harm to his body. Though he was in pain, at least he didn't find any alarming wounds.

  Just then, the sound of a door opening interrupted his thoughts, making him tense. He heard a stranger's voice say, "Patient No. 303, time is up." He was even more puzzled, he didn't even know who he was, only knowing that he was called Patient No. 303. He couldn't find any weapons for self-defense in the toilet, only a toothbrush.

  Between despair and hopelessness, he clutched the toothbrush tightly, subconsciously looking for a glimmer of possibility to protect himself in the darkness. He smashed the mirror with the end of the toothbrush, hoping to shatter the mirror and break this deadly atmosphere. However, to his disappointment, the mirror was intact after a thud, as if mocking his futile act, making him feel utterly helpless and desperate. So he could only clench the toothbrush in his hand, hiding it behind him, and slowly moved towards the door.

  The black-haired man carefully opened the door, only to see a dark-skinned, skinny caretaker walk in with a sinister smile on his face. He held a broom in his hand and said to the black-haired man, "Patient No. 303, what was that noise just now?" He seemed to be expecting some kind of response, but the black-haired man just silently stepped back, not responding at all. Seeing this, the caretaker frowned, closed the door, and harshly locked it to ensure the "safety" of the room. He then started cleaning the room emotionlessly.

  It was then that the black-haired man noticed that aside from the pale light, there was also a narrow window in the corner of the ceiling in his room. Weak sunlight came in through the window and cast a hair-raising shadow on the wall corner. But the window was too small, too high, he could only see a gray sky. The black-haired man realized the caretaker had no intention of harming him, so he slowly retreated to the toilet facing the caretaker, concealed the toothbrush, but to his surprise, when he came out of the toilet, the dark-skinned caretaker was already standing at the door waiting for him. The caretaker coldly said, "Let's go, it's about time for dinner in the cafeteria."

  The black-haired man was startled, sweating profusely, but due to hunger and confusion about this unknown place, he decided to follow the caretaker to the cafeteria. He hoped to find more information in the cafeteria, or have the opportunity to communicate with others.

  He closely followed behind the caretaker, passing through a long, dim corridor, and finally reached the entrance of the cafeteria. The cafeteria was filled with a mixture of food aromas, which made his stomach rumble. He became increasingly eager to get food as soon as possible.

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  A man with black hair found an empty spot and sat down, surveying the cafeteria environment. He noticed that everyone in the cafeteria was dressed in patient garb similar to his own, but the number of people was not large, and the whole scene appeared desolate and oppressive. The faces of these people were filled with tension and fear, as if they were enduring an indescribable pressure. Some even had empty sleeves on their clothes, as if something was missing, which intensified the unease in the black-haired man's heart. He turned his head to see seven or eight caregivers standing around the cafeteria, their presence adding to the oppressive atmosphere. When he looked at the glass of milk and a portion of white bread on the table, clearly not enough, his anxiety deepened.

  Suddenly, a corpulent middle-aged man entered the cafeteria. He was dressed in doctor's clothes but appeared very authoritative. With a smile on his face, he said, "Everyone is here, let's eat." This middle-aged man seemed to be a doctor or someone in charge of this place, but the black-haired man could not be certain.

  At the command of the corpulent doctor, the patients began to grab their milk and bread in a sickly manner. Their pupils dilated due to hunger, like wolves pouncing on food. Although the food was scant, the craving on their lips suggested they had been hungry for a long time. The black-haired man also began to wolf down his portion. He ate the hard-to-swallow food alone in the darkness, filled with confusion and anxiety, but at this moment he could only be led by the situation, seeking answers to escape this chaos.

  As the meal ended, the atmosphere in the cafeteria began to grow heavy and oppressive. The corpulent middle-aged man declared in a deep voice, "No. 101, your performance was quite excellent yesterday. Today, you will receive a candle. Please come forward to receive it." His voice echoed in the empty cafeteria. A woman with a pale face and emaciated body shakily stood up and walked forward to receive her "reward". The candle in her hand flickered in the breeze, and her frail body seemed as though it might collapse at any moment.

  The black-haired man watched this scene, his heart filled with confusion and fear. He continued to observe the patients. They all seemed weary, as if performing some similar task, and appeared to have lost all hope in the face of an unknown fate.

  He thought, perhaps he himself was one of them, but because he had lost his memory, everything here felt strange and frightening. A sense of despair welled up in his heart, he had to find an opportunity to communicate with the other patients and seek answers. Just then, he heard the voice again: "No. 303, this is your first day. You have two candles. If you can't complete the task within tomorrow, then on the third night, you will never be able to light your candles."

  This statement brought a fearful revelation to the black-haired man. He seemed to be under a ticking curse. Each candle seemed to be an opportunity, or more accurately, his lifeline. If he could not complete the mysterious task within tomorrow, then on the third night, he would lose his life.

  "Alright, there are no more candles to distribute. The sky has darkened, I hope to see all of you tomorrow." The fat man said and turned to leave, leaving them to the caregivers. The black-haired man swallowed a stiff breath of air, trying to connect with other patients, seeking any possible clue. He chose a man sitting in the corner. His eyes were empty, like a soul lost in darkness. The black-haired man approached him, trying to start a conversation.

  "Hello, do you know what our task is here?" The black-haired man tried to make his tone sound calm and friendly.

  However, he was met with silence. The patient had no reaction. His gaze continued to stare into the void as if the black-haired man did not exist. His eyes were so empty and deep, like a bottomless abyss that swallowed all light and hope.

  This failure did not make the black-haired man give up. He went to another patient, a thin woman, her fingers curled up on the edge of the patient's clothes, clutching the hem tightly.

  "Can you tell me why we're here?" The black-haired man asked gently.

  A flash of terror crossed the woman's eyes, and then she clamped her mouth shut. Though her body was trembling, her lips were locked as if closed with a padlock. Their silence made him feel even more isolated and desperate, as if he was in a desolate wasteland, unable to find any clues to survival.

  The black-haired man struggled in this despair and confusion. He tried to find any possible help, but all he faced were silent figures, soulless puppets with eyes filled with fear and despair. They couldn't answer his questions, couldn't provide him with any help, they just silently watched him, like looking at a shadow that's about to disappear.

  Just when the black-haired man was about to fall into despair, a pale-faced man with flowing silver hair entered his line of sight, whispering to him to borrow a candle. The man's eyes were full of urgency, as if the candle was his only redemption.

  The black-haired man was perplexed. He knew that this man might hold the clues he needed, which could be his only hope of escaping this strange place. However, if he lent the candle to this man, his own survival might be at greater risk.

  In this moment of indecision, the black-haired man took a careful look at this man. His face was pale, his eyes filled with fear and despair, as if he had reached the edge of life. Finally, the black-haired man took a deep breath and made a decision. "Alright, I'll lend you a candle. But you must promise to return it tomorrow and tell me everything you know about this place," the black-haired man said softly, a pang of regret hitting him as the words fell. Why would he lend such an important candle to a stranger?

  Upon hearing this answer, the silver-haired man revealed a hint of a joyful smile and nodded his head to indicate his agreement. He carefully accepted the candle, then hurried off. "I'm Bai Jinghui, staying in room 201. I will repay you." His voice was like a dandelion in the wind, weak but firm.