THE FREEZER ROOM

If there is a stage between life and death where you are no closer to one or the other, that’s where Wonwoo is now. Jisoo cries his name, but he can’t hear it. The cries stop, but he’s not aware of it. When the air vents suddenly stop blowing, he doesn’t notice, nor when they turn back on. If someone finds him now, they’ll believe he’s long gone.

Then, slowly, warmer air starts to fill the space, and it brings life back to Wonwoo’s body. The floors and walls heat up too. By the time he wakes up again, sacked on the floor and spasming from the residing hypothermia, the countdown in Seokmin’s room has already ended.

THE MUSIC ROOM

Jihun waits patiently. He’s been watching Seokmin through the large window for an hour, following the instructions he’s given to save his younger. Now the countdown behind his unconscious friend is about to end, and Jihun looks at it with hateful anticipation. Will his efforts be enough?

The clock hits zero. The awaited electric shock runs through the chair, and Seokmin goes from dead still to thrashing violently in an instant. The shock is only a second or two long, but it feels like an eternity to Jihun. When it finally ends, Seokmin falls limply to the floor. Jihun is terrified, puts his hands on the glass and pounds at it.

“Seokmin-ah! No!”

The instructions written on the ceiling says he had to crack a code and sing it in notes to lower the voltage in Seokmin’s chair. Too high and the shock would fry him, too low and it wouldn’t wake him up. If he doesn’t wake up, a poison in his body will continue to spread unstopped by his immune system.

Jihun had figured the code out and sung for all he was worth until his vocal chords were shredded. Now it seems it was all in vain.

“Seokmin-ah! Seokmin-ah!” He slams his fists on the glass so hard it hurts. “Wake up! Please!”

Seokmin moves. His shoulders tense and he raises his head sluggishly. Jihun starts laughing in pure relief, beats the glass again. His friend seems to react to the noise, but something’s wrong. While Jihun can see him clearly, Seokmin’s eyes move as if his older wasn’t standing there at all. Jihun slams his fists against the barrier over and over, without pause, until the confused Seokmin struggles onto his feet and stumbles over to him. Their eyes never meet. When Seokmin starts feeling across the glass and carefully knocks, Jihun realizes that it’s a one-way window.

“Seokmin-ah, can you hear me?” he calls as loud as his voice can handle—it’s not much and not enough. Seokmin continues looking at the glass cluelessly, still drunk on the drugs given to keep him sedated. His lips move but Jihun can’t hear him either.

This continues for another hour, during which Seokmin does various things to try and escape with the limited energy he has, including trying to break the glass by throwing the chair at it. Jihun sits on the floor of his room and watches him pace sadly, thinking about their other friends and where they could be. Eventually, Seokmin lies down on the floor, too tired to continue fighting.

Because of his inactivity, it takes Jihun a long time to notice that the screen in Seokmin’s room has a new message on it.

동생은 아직도 죽어 가고있어. 구해줘. 
(Your little brother is still dying. Save him.)

His heart contracts. The poison. Is that why Seokmin is so tired? Because he’s still dying? Jihun has no idea what he’s supposed to do, but he starts looking desperately through the room for anything—inside the piano, under the chairs, in the cabinets filled with sheet music. Then he looks inside the body of a guitar and sees something. Unable to reach it, he slams the instrument onto the floor until the wood breaks.

A syringe falls out, with Seokmin’s name on it. Jihun is once again left hopeless—they’re still in separate rooms. How will he get the medicine to his friend? He looks at Seokmin through the window. The younger has seen the message on the screen too now and is holding something in his hand that Jihun can’t see.

The screen flashes. The message vanishes and is replaced by a new countdown, which reads ten minutes and starts ticking.

THE MIRROR ROOM

The whole situation is stressing him out more than he can handle. The voice in the speakers is loud and echoes in the bare room, relentlessly telling him how much time he has left.

“Nine minutes and ten seconds. Nine minutes and five seconds. Nine minutes. Eight minutes and fifty-five seconds.”

Seungkwan is sitting on the floor in a corner, holding a hand over a wound on his thigh. There are shards of a shattered mirror all over the floor, three of them bloody since Seungkwan had to pull them out of his body. He’d done what he was told. He’d screamed, and the mirror had exploded right next to him. Behind it was a bathrobe and a note, a note that Seungkwan is reading now.

한솔을 구하기 위해 한솔의 유리를 산산이 부수야 되. 석민을 구하기 위해 지훈의 유리를 산산이 부수야 되. 기회가 하나 있어. 
(To save Hansol, Hansol’s glass must shatter. To save Seokmin, Jihun’s glass must shatter. You have one chance.)

The countdown continues. Although Seungkwan understands what he’s supposed to do—there’s also notes associated with each name on the back of the note—he’s afraid. What if more mirrors explode? A shard can hit him in the eye and he can go blind. The last explosion wasn’t so bad, but it still pushed him off his feet.

He stands up and walks over to the glass barrier. He looks at the glasses lined up so perfectly. How can he possibly choose one of his friends over another? But if he refuses to choose, won’t that mean both of them are harmed? He has watched enough movies to know that it was true.

Hansol. Seokmin and Jihun. There’s everyone else too, with their own notes and glasses. Are they in danger too?

Seungkwan can’t decide. Tears form in his eyes, made from fright and frustration. The voice in the speakers tells him there are five minutes left.

THE BEDROOM

The banging on the door has stopped, and Hansol is terrified that he missed his chance to get help from whoever is in the next room. He tried to call out, but the leather gag is too tight. He can’t get up from the bed because of the chains, secured tightly around both his feet, his chest and his neck. That his hands are free doesn’t help, because there’s no way he can break the chains off with only his arm strength, and the leather gag won’t come off either.

He focuses on his stomach in so that the scythe swinging back and forth from the ceiling doesn’t cut him again. But the more time that passes, the further down the scythe seems to go. Blood runs in a small tendril down Hansol’s waist—the wound isn’t deep, but it hurts. If he can’t get out, he’s sure the blade will cut him in half eventually.

He screams through the gag again. He hits his clenched fists against the headboard of the bed, but nobody can hear him through the steel doors. The scythe moves down again, a tiny sliver but it’s enough. It cuts his skin and tortures him.

The banging on his door starts again, this time much louder. Hansol can swear there’s someone yelling too. He concentrates on the sound, tries to isolate it. It could be Junhui. He thinks it’s Junhui.

The scythe moves down again.

SHOULD SEUNGKWAN SHATTER HANSOL'S GLASS

or

SHOULD HE SHATTER JIHUN'S GLASS?

(Winning option marked in bold font.)