Nightmare Game
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 122
In a strikingly familiar fashion.
Just with roles reversed?
Ethan sensed that was the gist, though since he hadn’t seen many green jumpsuits on the fifth, he couldn’t swear it was a full swap.
“Why are they all still alive?”
Julian had spotted the twist too, turning to Henry. “They should’ve died on the fifth yesterday. Why are they resurfacing on the fourth, with identities flipped?”
Henry looked genuinely baffled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Fourth-level prisoners stay on the fourth; fifth on the fifth. No connection between them.”
Julian dropped it. From experience, when puzzles defied logic and Dreamplay characters offered no sense, it usually flagged a core mystery to chase.
“These folks are Testers sent from above to experience the Prison,” Henry said. “They’re not like you lot. No hurting them under our watch.”
“Got it?”
The elderly black jumpsuit’s eyes turned icy as he glanced at Henry, his voice flat. “Understood.”
He shifted to the group, gaze still cold, like they weren’t worth his time. “Name’s David Roth. Folks call me Boss Roth out of respect—these black jumpsuits give me some face. You’re here to tour, fine, but behave. Don’t stir trouble for us.”
With that, he seemed to lose interest, weaving back into the black jumpsuits.
He was orchestrating their hunt on the purples.
Henry then led the group to the cells, letting them pick freely.
He repeated yesterday’s spiel, finally touching on the common area.
Mornings and evenings, guards would deliver and distribute food, but lunch differed—they could head to the common area.
“It’s about lunchtime soon; I’ll take you there.”
“But first, the rules, to avoid any mess.”
“Though the common area’s open to both men and women for meals, if you skip it, a guard will bring your food here.”
“But once you’re there, follow the protocols—no violations. Break them, and we’ll treat you as real prisoners, locking you up for good.”
It sounded less like a warning, more like cold fact.
The thought of this hellish Prison sent shivers through them.
Death seemed preferable to staying.
Henry plowed on, unfazed by their reactions.
“Men and women can both enter, but no talking across genders, no mixing seats—that disrupts order.”
“Dining spots are separated: men on one side, women on the other. No crossing lines.”
“But since you’re just Testers, segregating you like regular inmates feels off.”
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