A heavy silence fell between us, broken only by the faint hum of the elevator. I swallowed my anger and frustration, realizing there was no way to respond to that. It was a harsh and unyielding truth.
"You need to go to the top floor to understand why you've been assigned there." Hugo and Yuxuan are there. They'll guide you. You don't need to worry."
Will walked away down the hallway, his footsteps echoing faintly until he disappeared into the shadows. I stepped into the elevator, my stomach in knots, and pressed the "38" button. The doors closed with a metallic hiss, and the elevator shook with a dull thud. The ascent was quick—perhaps too quick. But halfway up, the movement stopped abruptly.
The doors did not open. The elevator remained frozen in an oppressive silence. I then noticed a small screen that I hadn't seen before. It was flashing faintly and displaying a scan bar. I swallowed and held out my wrist to scan my QR code. A cold beep sounded, followed by a message on the screen: Access authorized."
The doors slid open to reveal a long corridor bathed in an eerie, almost clinical, white light. The black-and-white walls were adorned with a mesmerizing pattern that seemed to stretch on forever. Unlike the other floors, it was completely silent here. Too silent.
I moved forward slowly, my footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor. The apartment doors were lined up in a row, all uniform and impersonal. I stopped in front of the third door on the left. Voices echoed from the other side, muffled but distinct.
Taking a shaky breath, I pressed the handle. "Let's hope it's not Gavin" I whispered as I entered.
The room that opened up before me surprised me with its size. Unlike the cramped rooms on the lower floors, this one was spacious and almost luxurious. In one corner, a large bed and a black leather sofa faced a small bookcase filled with books. A desk, a few cushions scattered on the floor, and a private bathroom completed the picture. Five inmates occupied the room.
"You took your time, new guy!" a voice said behind me.
I turned around to meet Yuxuan's gaze. He was lying on his bed, casually tossing an apple in the air.
"We met earlier at the distribution, right?" I said, trying to break the ice.
"Yeah, I'm Yuxuan," he replied, sitting up with a smirk. "what's your name, new guy?"
"Finn."
I glanced at the others. One was reading a book without looking up. Another was fast asleep. A third was drawing with fierce concentration. But it was Hugo who caught my attention. He was staring at me with his usual cryptic smile.
Yuxuan chuckled. "If you're hoping to talk to everyone tonight, you're out of luck. But I'm here. I was waiting for you."
I narrowed my eyes. "You were waiting for me?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, Hugo told me that Simon received a new intern assigned to our floor. It had been a while since we'd had a new one. Welcome!"
I swallowed, feeling uncomfortable. "The atmosphere here is different from the lower floors."
"That's normal. You're in the dark zone of Block Ares here. Only sociopaths have access to it."
"Sociopaths..." I repeated in a hiss.
Yuxuan nodded..." impulsive, rude, and unpredictable. We don't go out much, and we don't socialize with others very often."
I frowned. "What about the lunatics on the floor below? Psychopaths, right?"
Hugo burst out laughing, breaking the heavy silence in the room. Yuxuan smiled, but his gaze seemed to darken this time. "Yeah, they're the opposite of us: calculating, manipulative, and insensitive, real scumbags."
His voice was cut off by an inmate with ebony skin who turned a page of his book without looking up. "They're usually very intelligent, quiet, and cold. They don't think like us; they're brutal. Dangerous? Yes, they are. Only..." He looked up, his gaze piercing. "Ask yourself why they're not here. Why are we occupying the last four floors?"
I frowned, intrigued. "Good question. We're less dangerous, aren't we?"
The reader burst out laughing. "Less dangerous?" Yes, but not entirely. To know who's more dangerous, a psychopath or a sociopath, you have to look at their environment. That's an important point."
He closed his book with a slow, precise movement before resting his elbows on his knees. He carefully chose each word he was about to say.
"Psychopaths are by far the most dangerous. They can be anyone. They know how to blend in, manipulate, and premeditate the most horrible murders. It's difficult to recognize one in society unless they get caught or want to be caught. Free, they are feared and dreaded. They could even kill gods or be among the gods."
"Don't think that Gavin stopped last time because he fears me. He didn't dare do more because, if he had to touch me, it would have been to kill. They're not the type to kill in anger without thinking."
His speech caught the others attention, interrupting their activities. They looked up one by one. Hugo was still smiling as he sat on a cushion, his eyes shining with an indecipherable interest.
"The lunatics on the floor below are violent and uncontrollable. Once locked up and monitored, they are restricted. We know who they are, so they can't hide. They can't be in contact with other residents either. You've seen what happens when they find a new toy. They either torture or manipulate you" Hugo added, his voice soft yet sharp as a scalpel.
" Here, they are predictable and limited, but we are not. It is often in this kind of toxic environment that we break, or are broken. The only reason we are sometimes allowed to be in contact with the other residents is because we have some emotion left in us, and we don't seek to kill or hurt for pleasure" Yuxuan continued.
"Once locked up and monitored, a sociopath becomes much more emotionally unstable. We have traumas that haunt us; the slightest mistake or misstep triggers outbursts of anger and bloodthirsty thoughts. We only stop once we feel better, which is why we occupy the top floors."
The weight of his words shook me. Their cold logic and confidence were fascinating and almost hypnotic. I found myself nodding along, absorbed by their stories as if I were a spectator at a macabre play.
"What did you do to end up here?" a drawling voice suddenly asked. I turned to the reader, whose piercing eyes had not left me.
I took a breath as a shiver ran down my spine. "I slaughtered my entire family."
Silence fell over the room, followed by a snicker. "I guess they were sons of bitches, and they all deserved it," the inmate replied with a smirk. He put down his book and held out his hand. "Sheldon."
I shook it.
"Finn!"
Sheldon nodded quickly toward the others. "That's Ryan. He's pretending to be asleep, but he can hear everything. Over there is Jesse."
I turned to greet Jesse, a boy with a gentle, rosy face and a skeletal appearance, who was sitting cross-legged. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod before returning to his activity. Yet, I felt a strange connection between us, a mutual curiosity that hung in the air. They were like me, and the idea fascinated and frightened me.
"And you, what did you do to end up here?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
Our eyes met in heavy silence. I thought they were going to ignore me, but after a moment, Sheldon spoke.
"My father had a mistress, not just one, in fact. He had two kids with her. While he was giving her the moon, he was beating my mama bloody at home. It went on for years. There was no life left in my mother's eyes. I saw her dying day after day. She ended up neglecting me without realizing it. Then she killed herself in front of me."
I leaned forward slightly, my interest piqued. "What happened after that?"
"I killed my father's lover and his children. The police intervened before I could kill my father, who had already lost consciousness. When I get out, I'll finish what I started. It's been bothering me ever since."
I remained silent, fascinated by the precision of his account. A nervous chuckle rippled through the room. Jesse, who had been sitting motionless on his cushion, sat up slightly.
"And you, Jesse? What did you do?"
He raised his head, his thin, pale face illuminated by a harsh light. His eyes shone with restrained sadness.
"At the end of the semester, a girl came into my life: My first girlfriend. She claimed to love me. For a month, I confided everything to her: my life, my insecurities, and my health." He paused, running a nervous hand over his thin arm.
"Look at me. I'm skin and bones despite eating normally. My body refuses to obey me. She knew that, and she knew how much it was eating away at me."
Jesse clenched his fists, his voice growing tense. "She leaked photos and videos of me naked. To everyone."
A shiver ran through the room. Even Hugo lost his smile for a moment.
"After that, I was subjected to repeated insults and threats. It was awful. People told me that I should kill myself because I looked scary. It destroyed me. So I waited. I sat in my dark room until everything calmed down. But I wasn't comfortable. My emotions were overwhelming me.
Rayn, who had been silent until then, suddenly sat up straight and burst out with a bitter laugh. "That's where it gets interesting!"
He made a theatrical gesture with his hand.
"I plead guilty. We were in the same high school, him and me. I saw the humiliation he suffered day after day. The bullying... It was revolting. But I knew he was like me. We saw the world the same way. So I reached out to him. "
I frowned. "What happened next?"
A predatory smile spread across Rayn's lips. "One evening, I sent Jesse a message telling him that there was a private party at Lyna's house. She was the girl who had orchestrated his humiliation."
Jesse nodded slowly, his gaze hardening.
"I understood immediately. I grabbed a can of gasoline and kerosene, then went to meet him."
My stomach clenched, but I couldn't help asking, "And then what happened?"
Rayn sank into the cushion as if savoring every word of the story. "We poured liquids all around the house. Then, we entered through the kitchen window. We turned the gas up all the way, poured the rest of the liquid, and calmly left."
Jesse laughed and leaned back.
"Then we moved away, just far enough so that we wouldn't end up as ash." Rayn took out a lighter. A simple gesture. A flame. He threw it out the window. And boom."
"Bye-bye, Lyna and her gang," he added, almost whispering.
A heavy silence fell as Rayn's words echoed in the air.
Rayn continued, a sadistic gleam in his eye. "They never found the culprits. The investigation concluded that it was premeditated murder, but there were no suspects. Of course, they came to see Jesse because he had the most reason to hurt them."
He leaned toward me, looking mocking.
"But all they found was a poor, skinny, fragile boy. A body broken by weeks of harassment. A victim. Jesse played the part perfectly."
Jesse shrugged with a hint of a smile. "It was so pathetic that they left me alone."
Yuxuan, who had been watching silently, whistled softly. "You both did a good job."
I sat up slightly, my heart pounding. These people... They were different. Disturbed, yes, but not broken. I understood then why this floor was so feared.
"Had you been bullied before, or was this the first time?"
Jesse looked away, his eyes lost in space as if revisiting a memory he would rather forget. His voice trembled at first but regained a more confident tone.
"No, bullying wasn't new. Ever since I was a kid, people have made fun of me, my appearance, my walk, my voice. Everything has become an excuse. Kids are cruel, but I had my father. He loved me for who I was. He told me that my differences made me special. He was my only refuge."
He let out a bitter laugh. "But you know what they say, right? Some souls are born to be hated; otherwise, life would be boring."
I shook my head and looked him straight in the eye. "I know what you mean."
A sincere, albeit fleeting, smile lit up his face. "I'm sure you do."
A silence fell, but Rayn quickly broke it. "By the way, Jesse and I arrived here at the same time, three months after the tragedy."
Jesse hesitated slightly before continuing. "My father decided that we had to leave town. There were too many bad memories and pitying looks. He wasn't comfortable with the new system, and he was afraid for me. He knew I was different."
He took a deep breath, his gaze hardening. "We tried to escape the system. We took the car, and I sat in the back. But we didn't make it. My father was executed, and I was deported. They were already looking for me."
He paused, his expression darkening. "I woke up lying on a bed in this damn block. Guess what? That asshole was right next to me."
Rayn burst out laughing. "You should have seen your face! You looked like you'd seen a ghost; it was hilarious."
Jesse frowned, feigning annoyance.
"Fuck you."
Rayn's laughter grew louder, but he quickly calmed down when he saw my insistent gaze. "What about you? What happened to you before you ended up here?"
He shrugged as if his story were unimportant. "It's obvious, isn't it? Accessory to premeditated murder."
The room fell silent as everyone took in the boys' stories.
Their stories unfolded, becoming increasingly implausible and disturbing. Compared to their actions, my story seemed almost bland and insignificant. Yet, I couldn't help but listen, captivated by the details and that familiar darkness that connected us all in a way.
Hugo waited patiently before speaking, as if waiting for the right moment. When he finally did, his voice rang out calmly and almost melodiously.
"Christmas," he said. He paused, his gaze fixed on an invisible point in the distance. "It was always the same: The hypocritical laughter, the useless gifts, and, above all, their remarks. My father, my uncles, and even my brothers and sisters... They spent their time reminding me that I was a failure, incapable of living up to their expectations or those of the new world. I was nothing but a failure, incapable of living up to their expectations or those of the new world."
He smiled strangely, almost sweetly, but his eyes shone with an icy glint. "They didn't like my art. They said it was a waste of time and that I should have become like them. But I had a vision. It was a vision they hadn't understood since childhood."
The others remained silent, hanging on his every word.
"Art was my only means of communication. One day, I decided they would become my masterpiece. I was going to paint a portrait of the family to express how I felt."
His smile widened, almost triumphant.
"I wanted to give them one of my paintings as a gift. But they laughed at me. Others got angry because they weren't well represented. They destroyed all my work, and then they punished me by depriving me of Christmas."
"I'm sure you're very talented. They were just jealous because you were different, while they were mere copies of a perfectionist society."
"That's exactly what I thought that night." Before going back to my room, I made sure to poison all the dishes in the kitchen with ethylene glycol, a colorless, slightly sweet liquid I used as a paint solvent. Christmas dinner was their last meal. They ate, laughed, and drank. Then they died. All of them."
I felt a shiver run through me. Hugo told his story with such serenity that it became almost terrifying.
"But that was only the first step. Once they were dead, I went downstairs and arranged them around the table as if they were still alive. My father, domineering; my mother, submissive and silent; my brothers and sisters, arrogant and contemptuous. And I painted."
He paused, savoring the effect of his words. "I called it 'Funeral Dinner.' It was a two-by-three-meter canvas capturing every detail of their faces and bodies in the scene."
His voice became more animated, almost excited. "Once I was done, I snuck into a renowned art gallery. I hung my work in the main hall, in the middle of the exhibits. Then, I went home to clean up."
He burst out laughing briefly. "The painting stirred up society. Everyone wanted to know who the artist was. Some called it genius; others said it was an act of pure madness against the gods. As for me, I was proud that my art was appreciated. "
He regained his composure, his eyes shining with a strange gleam. "To celebrate, I went on a picnic in the fields with Rufus, my dog. The sun was shining and the wind was blowing through the grass. It was perfect."
His smile faded slightly, giving way to a harder expression. "But as I was resting under a tree, I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again..."
He stretched out his arms as if to embrace the absurdity of his situation. "I was here, in this hell."
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Even those accustomed to joking remained silent, fascinated and slightly frightened by Hugo's intensity.
I took a breath, breaking the silence. "Do you regret it?"
Hugo gave me an enigmatic look and smiled again. "Regret? No, but I'm curious. Why us? Why now? Maybe the gods want us to offer them something new."
His answer left me speechless. I realized that in this room, we were much more than a group of broken residents. We were the enemies of the gods.
Yuxuan was another story. He was undoubtedly the most disturbed among us. With most sociopaths, there is logic and a trigger. We rarely attack those who haven't done anything to us. But not him. He had crossed a different line. Just one mistake was enough to convince him that dozens of lives had to be extinguished.
His younger sister, Ning, was everything to him. She was a sweet, fragile girl and the light of their family. But one evening, everything changed.
"After an argument with her boyfriend , that monster, he hurt my sister. He took her dignity by force."
The story ended abruptly there, but the looks around us said everything we needed to know. Hugo mechanically played with a pencil as if to distract himself from the atrocity of the story. Meanwhile, Rayn stared at the floor, his fist clenched.
"During the investigation, my parents tried to get justice," Yuxuan continued in a flat, resentful voice. "They filed a complaint against her boyfriend. But her family..."
He almost spat out the word as if saying it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Powerful, respected people, half-god. They covered for him. The complaint was dismissed. The investigation? It closed before it even began. And my sister? Broken. Completely destroyed."
His voice hardened, betraying the emotion he was trying to hide. "One morning, my mother found her locked in the bathroom. She had tried to end her life. Fortunately, my mother saved her, but the gods found out, and she was deported here."
He paused for a moment, his dark eyes staring into space.
"My family was torn apart while that bastard was living his life. Parties, trips, laughter... He felt no remorse."
I could see the tension rising among the others. Even Sheldon, who was usually detached, sat up slightly.
"So I tracked him down, not for revenge, but because I needed an excuse to find my sister" he said simply, his voice almost a whisper. "And when I got my hands on him..." A cold smile appeared on his lips. "I cut him up."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"And I didn't stop there. I turned each piece of him into carefully wrapped gifts. Then, I had them delivered to his family, to these motherfucking gods."
A brief, joyless laugh escaped him.
"The gifts were well received."
I almost felt sorry for him, but the rest of his story reminded me that he wasn't looking for pity or redemption.
"The police had finally become suspicious of me. I was ready to be deported behind the wall to find my sister."
He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of sadness in his expression.
"But it never happened. Instead, Hugo woke me up looking worried and lost, just like me. My sister is probably in a different building, but it's impossible to get out and go looking for her."
He concluded his story with a sigh and let silence fall once more.
I had never heard such a disturbing story. What he had done and the coldness with which he had done it was beyond comprehension. Yet, in this chaos of violence, there was an implacable logic and precision that both chilled and intrigued me: the need to find his sister.