"So you're the same, huh? I've never heard of this kind of technology before. Did NASA make this or something?"
"Maybe. But if NASA did, I've never heard of anything like this being made public."
"'Made public'? What do you mean by that?"
"Well, some technologies are kept secret until the right time. Like trade secrets — you don't release them until it's safe or profitable."
"Hmm… so, what do you think? Was it NASA?"
"No, I don't think so. Probably some other organization. Even if NASA's network is powerful, it's not powerful enough to kidnap this many people at once."
"Yeah, you're right. Now that I think about it, the last thing I remember was clicking that red button — and then everything went dark."
"Went dark? What do you mean by that?"
"I mean I lost consciousness, dude. Same for you?"
Zaki blinked. "Lost consciousness? Wait… I think so. I also touched the Yes button on my laptop and blacked out."
A voice called out from the group. "Yo! Everyone hear that? We've got someone flexing that his laptop is touch-screen!"
"Wait, wait, that's not the point here!"
"Chill, man. Just trying to lighten the mood. But yeah — same thing happened to me. I clicked Yes and instantly blacked out."
"Did anyone else experience the same thing? Raise your hand if you did!"
One by one, every single person raised a hand.
"Wow," someone muttered. "That's… not logical at all. How can that even happen?"
"I thought maybe each of us was kidnapped under different circumstances," another said. "But looks like the red button thing wasn't a coincidence."
"Then what else do we have in common? Hmm… The date! Yeah, the date!"
"The date? What are you talking about? You trying to brag about a date plan to us single guys?"
"Of course not, idiot! I mean the day we last remember before waking up here."
"The last day I remember was Sunday. I had work that day."
"Same. Though my site was off that day."
"Same here."
"Same here."
"Same."
They all compared notes. Every one of them had disappeared on the same day, though the time of disappearance differed slightly.
"So, you're from the east, huh?"
"Yeah. You westerners get Sunday off — must be nice."
"What's so nice about that? Having Friday off is better. You ever worked a Friday rush? Not fun."
"Hah… lucky me, I didn't work that day."
"From what we're saying," Zaki summarized, "it looks like we were all taken on the same day."
"Yeah. That's huge. To kidnap this many people at the same time — that's no small operation."
"This has to be the work of a massive organization. Maybe a company or a secret project."
For several minutes they argued, tossing theories back and forth. Nasrul stayed quiet, only listening. The conversation was all logic, but the situation wasn't logical anymore.
Then he remembered something — wasn't there another paper on the tree earlier?
While the others were still talking, he beckoned to Zaki, who was holding one of the candles. "Come with me for a second."
They walked to another tree at the edge of the clearing. There, nailed to the bark, was another paper — a crude drawing beside a few words scrawled in shaky ink:
"Don't think. Run."
A chill rippled through Nasrul's spine as he stared at it.
"Hey," Zaki said quietly. "Do you think what they're saying is true? That some big organization kidnapped us?"
"I don't think so," Nasrul replied, voice tight. "Remember, our watches say 'God's Mission.' Not some company name. No organization could kidnap all of us at once — not across different regions."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because I live in a rented house with my coursemates. They were playing games downstairs when I blacked out. I could still hear them shouting right before I lost consciousness. If they were fine, then it wasn't a mass physical kidnapping."
"Oh damn, you're a college student? That explains why you look so young. So that game's still popular, huh?"
"Of course. Sure, there's an age gap between us, but it's not that big. I'll be working soon anyway. You're in your twenties, right? We're basically the same generation. That game even has a second season now."
"Hah. You talk like an old man already. Trust me, once you start working, you'll stop doing a lot of things. After work, all you want is sleep."
They shared a brief laugh — a small, fragile piece of normality — then began walking back toward the group.
That was when it happened.
From the edge of his vision, Nasrul caught a flicker of white. Something darted across his sightline, fast and silent — a pale blur cutting through the trees.
For a heartbeat, time froze.
Then it passed right in front of him.
Nasrul went rigid. He didn't even blink. Zaki, on the other hand, shouted, "What the hell was that!?"
The group turned toward the sound, startled. The man who had earlier taken the "Stay in the Light" paper stepped forward. "What happened?"
Zaki's face was pale. "A kid! A kid ran right past us — and then he just faded! Disappeared!"
Murmurs rippled through the group. Some looked skeptical, others frightened.
Zaki turned toward Nasrul. "You saw it too, right? The boy — wearing that weird mask?"
Nasrul didn't respond. His eyes were wide, lips moving soundlessly. He seemed to be mumbling something.
"Oy, Nasrul. You're creeping me out. What are you saying?"
Zaki leaned closer to listen. The words came out in a whisper, repeated over and over.
> "No way… no way… no way…"
Zaki placed a hand on his shoulder. Nasrul jolted like he'd been shocked, jumping back.
"What?!"
"Relax, man. I was just asking — that boy with the mask, you saw him, right?"
Nasrul's voice trembled. "Yeah. The boy with the smiling mask. He ran past us. That boy's name is Tim."
"What! How do you know his name?" someone demanded.
"Because he's a character from the horror game Wick," Nasrul said.
"You mean… a character from the game!?"
"Yes. And if he's here, then that proves it."
Zaki frowned. "Proves what, exactly?"
"It means we weren't kidnapped by any organization," Nasrul said slowly. "We're inside the game. That's the problem."
"Hah! That's impossible!" one man shouted back. "There's no way we're inside a game!"
Nasrul snapped. "Do you think I care what you believe!? I'm telling you, this isn't something with a happy ending! Wick doesn't end well — none of the versions do! It's like The Grudge — no one makes it out clean!"
The others fell silent. Even those who hadn't played the game had heard of The Grudge. The implication chilled them more than the cold air.
Finally, someone asked in a trembling voice, "Then… how do we survive? How do we escape the characters?"
Nasrul took a slow breath. "For this one — Tim — it's simple. When you hear the sound of him running nearby, don't turn toward it. Just run. Keep running until the sound fades."
"So just… run away?"
"Yes. Just run."
"Is there anything else we should know?"
"Yeah. Follow the instructions on the papers — especially the one about the candle."
"Why? What about the candle?"
"If you're not in the light, they'll attack you more often. The candle keeps them back. Luckily, our watches say the candle's flame won't run out — at least, not naturally."
"You mean we have to stay in the candlelight?"
"Exactly. Some of us already have candles, but the rest need to find theirs. According to the watches, several candles are scattered throughout this forest. Find them. And remember: obey what's written on the papers — they tell us how to survive."
"Then we should all stick close together," someone said. "With more candles, we'll be safer."
"Sorry to crush that dream," Nasrul said flatly, "but if we stay in one place, the ghosts will come straight for us."
"That's insane. We have to keep moving for hours?"
"If you want to live, yes. And another thing — there's a ghost that can teleport people randomly. Don't panic if you suddenly find yourself somewhere else. Just head toward the nearest light source."
He paused, remembering something grim. "And one more thing: don't go near the bus. There's a ghost sleeping there. If the bus door opens on its own — run. That sound will wake it up."
A long silence followed.
No one joked this time. No one laughed.
The dread of the Wick game — the realization that they were living inside it — settled over everyone like a shroud.