If someone tries to sell you exam questions inside a five-star hotel, do not buy them.
Yell at them. Chase them away.
If you already bought the questions, do NOT eat at the buffet.
If you absolutely have to go—do not eat the pork brain.
Even if it really does make you smarter.
Remember my words.
You might still have a chance to get out.
1
With the ACT just days away, my parents booked me a room at a five-star hotel near the test center.
They said it was so I could “focus.”
I knew what they really meant—
no distractions, no excuses.
I wasn’t alone.
My childhood best friend, Maddox, was staying with me.
We’d grown up together, survived middle school together, and barely survived high school together.
While packing, I opened the drawer of the nightstand.
That’s when I found the note.
A single sheet of paper.
Neat handwriting—delicate, careful.
It looked like a girl had written it.
Before I could make sense of it, the door swung open.
Maddox walked in, duffel bag over his shoulder, looking way too excited.
He shut the door behind him, leaned in close, and whispered dramatically:
“Tristan. Guess what I bought.”
That tone alone told me it wasn’t anything legal.
Maddox had always been like that—
shortcut taker, rule bender, professional bad idea generator.
I sighed. “Just tell me.”
He grinned and pulled out a thick stack of papers.
English.
Math.
Reading.
Science.
“All four sections,” he said proudly. “Cost me a fortune.”
I flipped through them. The questions were… decent. Hard, even.
“Not bad,” I said. “Didn’t know you were capable of grinding like this.
Though starting now might be a little late. Test’s in a few days.”
Maddox waved me off.
“You don’t get it,” he said, lowering his voice. “I met a guy downstairs. Lobby corner. Selling these.”
I laughed. “You seriously fell for that?”
“Hey—listen. He works here. Hotel staff.
Said his team specializes in predicting ACT questions. Seventy percent accuracy.”
That made me laugh harder.
“They guarantee it,” Maddox continued. “Most people who buy these get into their dream schools.
And if they miss? Full refund.”
He pulled out a thin contract.
“I even signed paperwork.”
That finally caught my attention.
The contract was short.
Too short.
Clause 1: The exam materials must not be shared. Anyone who views them is considered to have accepted this contract.
Clause 2: Purchasers are entitled to a complimentary buffet dinner, including one serving of pork brain.
Clause 3: If illness occurs, hotel front desk must be notified immediately.
Clause 4: Entry to Basement Level 2 is strictly prohibited. Violators bear full responsibility for all consequences.
I froze.
Exam questions.
Buffet dinner.
Pork brain.
Every word matched the note I’d found.
Exactly.
2
I never imagined that just looking at the questions would count as signing the contract.
While I was still processing the note, Maddox kept talking.
“You lucked out,” he said. “These cost me a thousand bucks. You get them free.
Come on, highlight the important parts for me later. I’m starving—let’s hit the buffet.”
I frowned.
None of this felt right.
But Maddox was already hyped.
“This is a five-star buffet,” he added. “And they throw in pork brain.
The guy said it boosts intelligence. Not normal pork brain—top-tier stuff. Even rich people can’t always get it.”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I showed him the note.
He glanced at it and laughed.
“What is this? Where’d you find it?”
“In the drawer,” I said. “Feels like a warning.”
Maddox snorted. “Please. That’s just some bored kid messing with future guests.
Probably trying to scare people away from buying the questions.”
Then he grabbed my arm.
“Stop overthinking. I’m hungry.”
Before I could refuse, he dragged me out.
Maddox was 6’0″, built like a linebacker.
Once he locked onto you, escape was not an option.
Before we even reached the restaurant, I saw a guy stumble out.
He looked about our age.
Pale.
Eyes empty.
He swayed like he might collapse at any second.
“Hey,” I called out. “You okay?”
He didn’t respond.
Just kept walking.
A chef hurried over, supported him, and guided him into the elevator.
ACT season was brutal.
Stress did weird things to people.
I tried to convince myself it was normal.
The buffet was… quiet.
Way too quiet.
This hotel always filled up during exam season.
But there were barely a dozen people eating.
Then I saw it.
A girl sitting alone.
In front of her was a small hot pot filled with pale, white, brain-like lumps.
Pork brain.
She shoveled it into her mouth, chewing frantically, eyes shining.
When she finished, she immediately grabbed a test packet and started writing.
Fast.
Too fast.
“I’ve never felt this clear-headed before,” she muttered excitedly.
Maddox slapped my shoulder.
“See? Proof. I’m getting some.”
Before I could stop him, he walked off.
I stayed where I was, heart pounding.
The note hadn’t been a joke.
It was a warning.
And I was already too late.
That’s when a small, pale hand touched my shoulder.
I spun around.
A girl about my age stood there—ponytail, clean features—but her face was tense.
She leaned in and whispered:
“…You noticed it too, right?”
“Something’s really wrong with this place.”
3
The girl smiled.
Bright. Sweet.
We had plenty of good-looking girls at my school, but standing next to her, they didn’t even compare.
Just looking at her made my heart speed up against my will.
“H-hey,” I said. “You are…?”
She was straightforward, reaching out her hand.
“Julia,” she said. “Haniya Middle School.”
That name hit me like a punch.
Haniya Middle School’s Julia ranked second citywide in the last mock ACT.
I was second too—
but only within my own school.
The gap between us wasn’t small.
“You’re… that Julia?” I blurted.
She laughed. “Yeah. And I know you too. Tristan. Anima Middle School. Sixteenth citywide.”
I froze.
A girl like her remembered me?
My face burned. To hide my embarrassment, I hurriedly changed the subject.
“You said something felt wrong. What did you mean?”
Julia’s smile faded.
“I arrived two hours before you—around five,” she said quietly. “It’s summer. We’re in the south. It should’ve been dark by now.”
She pointed toward the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling windows.
“It’s 7:30 p.m. Look outside.”
I turned.
She was right.
The sky was still bright.
Too bright.
No sunset.
No dusk.
And worse—
the streets were empty.
No cars.
No people.
Nothing.
“What… is this?” I whispered.
Julia hesitated, then met my eyes.
“Tristan,” she said slowly. “I think time outside has stopped. Or we’re no longer in the same world.”
My brain rejected it immediately.
“That’s impossible. We’re inside a hotel.”
“Yes,” she said. “But we can’t leave it.”
She lowered her voice.
“I tried earlier. The front doors won’t open. It’s like an invisible wall. No matter how hard I push, I can’t step outside.”
“And the front desk?” I asked.
“No staff. No one at all.”
She continued, “Phones don’t work either. You’ll always get a busy signal. There’s internet, but messages never send.”
I pulled out my phone.
She was right.
“How is that possible?” I muttered. “I went out this afternoon. Bought snacks.”
Julia looked at me carefully.
“My guess. The moment you signed the contract… you were moved here.”
“…You signed it too?” I asked.
She nodded. “I wanted to analyze the questions. I didn’t expect this.”
Then she pulled out a note.
“I found this in my room.”
My stomach dropped.
Same handwriting. Same neat strokes.
Don’t try to leave. It might anger it.
Eat less vegetables. Eat as much meat as possible.
Do not eat the pork brain.
4
The words it made my skin crawl.
I showed Julia the note I’d found.
She studied it, face tense.
“So the pork brain really is the problem,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been watching,” Julia replied. “Anyone who eats it suddenly becomes brilliant. Questions they couldn’t solve before—done in seconds.”
She paused.
“But it only lasts about ten minutes.”
“And then?”
“They shut down. Completely. Head down. Empty eyes. Like… walking corpses.”
My chest tightened.
“That guy earlier,” I said. “Before we entered the restaurant. A chef helped him into the elevator.”
Julia nodded. “Exactly.”
“Where do they go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m going to find out.”
That’s when Maddox jogged over.
Grinning.
“Damn, Tristan,” he said. “Didn’t know you had game.”
He stared openly at Julia.
“Introduce me already.”
Before I could speak, Julia smiled politely.
“I’m Julia. Nice to meet you.”
Maddox’s eyebrows shot up.
“No way—that Julia? Tristan talks about you all the time. Says you’re smart, gorgeous, total goddess.”
I almost died on the spot.
Julia just laughed and looked at me.
“Oh? I didn’t know I had that much charm.”
I coughed and hurriedly changed the subject.
“Did you find the pork brain?”
Maddox frowned. “No. Everything else is here, but no pork brain. And there’s not a single waiter.”
Julia said calmly, “You don’t get it yourself. Sit down, scan the menu, enter your ID info. The pork brain option shows up.”
Maddox lit up.
“Oh damn, it’s real.”
My stomach sank.
Just then Julia tapped my arm.
“Look.”
The girl who had eaten the pork brain stood up.
Her excitement was gone.
Her eyes were empty.
She staggered toward the exit.
“Let’s follow her,” Julia said.
5
Julia moved fast.
I followed—then stopped.
Maddox.
I couldn’t leave him alone.
If something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself.
I rushed back and grabbed his phone.
“Don’t eat it,” I said. “Not yet.”
Maddox blinked. “What?”
“Eat something else. Wait for me. If we’re doing this, we do it together.”
Maddox smirked.
“Ohhh, I see. Going off with the girl, huh? Relax. I’ll behave.”
I grabbed his collar.
“I’m serious,” I said. “If you eat it alone, we’re done. Forever.”
He frowned, then sighed.
“Fine. I promise. Go.”
Reluctantly, I ran after Julia.
She was already waiting at the elevator.
“She went down,” Julia said. “B2.”
My heart skipped.
Basement Level 2.
The forbidden floor.
“You know what the contract says,” I whispered.
Julia nodded.
“We have to go. Otherwise we’ll never know.”
She stepped into the elevator and pressed B2 without hesitation.
The doors closed.
The elevator descended.
Too long.
Way too long.
When it finally stopped, the doors slid open.
A long hallway stretched ahead.
Red lights lined the right wall, glowing dimly.
On the left—stairs descending even deeper.
A sign hung at the stairwell entrance.
TRESPASSERS WILL DIE
The letters were dark red.
They smelled faintly of blood.
“This place is wrong,” I whispered. “Maybe we should go back. Get more people.”
Julia shook her head.
“If you’re scared, you can leave. I’m going in.”
That was when I realized.
This wasn’t her first time.
I grabbed her wrist.
“You came here on purpose.”
She froze.
“You already knew something was wrong.”
She sighed.
“My sister stayed here last year. She bought the questions. Called home for money.”
“And then?” I asked.
“She disappeared.”
No cameras.
No evidence.
“Police said she ran away from exam stress.”
“I don’t believe it,” Julia said softly. “So I came here myself.”
Her eyes burned.
“I need answers.”
I tightened my grip.
“Then we go together.”
And we stepped forward.
6
I motioned for Julia to stay behind me as we moved deeper in.
Slow. Careful.
About fifty meters in, the hallway dead-ended.
A heavy iron door blocked the way.
A sign bolted to it read: KITCHEN.
That stopped me.
A hotel kitchen… on B2?
I tested the handle.
It turned. Way too easily.
The door creaked open.
Inside were rows of ingredients—seafood, meat, dishes that looked expensive enough to belong in a five-star restaurant.
And not a single person.
No chefs.
No servers.
Nothing.
Then—
A sound.
Low. Wet. Rhythmic.
Coming from a room in the eastern corner.
Julia and I exchanged a look.
We moved without speaking.
I leaned toward the small window in the door.
And froze.
The girl and the boy from upstairs were laid out flat on a stainless steel prep table.
Side by side.
Eyes open.
Blank.
Not breathing. Not moving.
Like someone had switched them off.
A man in a chef’s uniform stood with his back to us, mixing something in a bottle.
He turned.
My skin exploded in goosebumps.
Julia’s fingers crushed into my hand.
The chef’s face looked… melted.
Like acid had eaten through it.
No nose.
Lips split wide, teeth permanently exposed.
One eye stared forward.
The other was just a hollow socket.
And the worst part—
He couldn’t see well.
He kept patting around, fingers searching the air, like things didn’t come into focus unless they were right in front of him.
“Tristan,” Julia whispered, barely breathing.
“What’s in his hand?”
I already knew.
I lifted one finger.
Watch.
The chef walked to the girl.
Unscrewed the bottle.
Sprinkled the contents over her body with care.
Almost lovingly.
His posture relaxed.
His mouth twitched upward.
Like he was seasoning a steak.
Then he moved to the boy.
Same motion.
Same sprinkle.
And then—
He stopped.
His expression soured.
“This one won’t do,” he muttered.
“Too much meat. Fat’s too thick.”
My stomach dropped.
He raised his voice.
“You. Bring him. Let the master taste. If the master doesn’t like it—discard.”
My heart slammed.
Someone else was here.
From the shadows, a hunched figure shuffled forward.
A dwarf.
Bent spine. Oversized arms.
Small body. Terrifying strength.
He grabbed the boy and yanked him off the table like he weighed nothing.
Dragged him toward the door.
Now.
I squeezed Julia’s hand once. Hard.
We’re leaving.
She hesitated, jaw tight—but nodded.
We backed away.
Quiet. Careful.
Heartbeats louder than footsteps.
We retraced our path and reached the elevator.
I smashed the call button.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
Then—
Thud.
Thud.
Heavy footsteps.
Getting closer.
The stairs.
Only option.
Even with the sign hanging there in blood-red letters:
TRESPASSERS DIE
I grabbed Julia’s hand.
“Move. Down.”
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