Now it was Zhayne’s turn, and 50 seconds remained. Somewhere above, the wheels waited, trembling, ready to throw the next obstacle
Jason's palms were slick with sweat. Unlike the others, he didn't shout Zhayne's name, he went straight for the joystick. But this time it was stuck. He shoved harder, gritting his teeth, and it finally lurched free... Only for the wheel to move the opposite way.
Jayson froze, eyes narrowing. His lashes lowered, half-closing as he slipped into a focused, foxlike squint. Silence hung for a beat before he yanked the stick again, harder, muttering, "oh...that's interesting"
He pushed left. The wheel swung right.
Down below, Zhayne glanced at it nervously, bracing himself. When the wheel finally swung overhead, he jumped and clung to it tight, ready to rise. But as it carried him upward, a flash of yellow caught his eye.
A piece of cloth, half-buried in the balloons. Familiar. Bloodied. His throat tightened. He swallowed hard and let go.
Zhayne shoved through balloons, forcing a path, rubber squealed under his hands.
"What is he doing?!" Jayson shouted, jerking the controls to guide the wheel back towards him.
Ten seconds left.
The lights snapped red. An alarm shrieked through the chamber. The glass container began lifting slowly, grinding upwards.
The balloons trembled. Then they moved.
As if some cruel breath had been blown into them, their painted smiles tore open, splitting into gaping maws. One by one, they staggered closer, circling.
Zhayne stumbled back, trying to dodge, but the creatures closed in, herding him into the center.
Jayson’s hands slipped. He yanked too hard — the joystick snapped in his grip.
No…” The word broke from him as he sank to his knees.
Then a thought sparked. His gaze darted to the cartoon wheel — already dragging a cluster of balloons with it. He lurched upright and bellowed into the mic:
“Zhayne! Hold the balloon!”
Zhayne lunged, snatching the very edge of a balloon’s rubber hand. The wheel hauled upward, dragging him with it — but the living balloons clawed at his legs, refusing to let go.
His fingers burned, skin raw and red as he fought his way up, hand over hand, until at last he reached the wheel’s grip.
The timer struck 0:00.
The lights flickered white.
Jayson glanced at the monitor, his heart hammering. The wheel shuddered, joints splitting, pieces clattering down. Its rubber hand began tearing away.
Beside him, the glass container ground to a halt, level with the machine. Leon and Vincent lunged forward, arms outstretched. Rafael only stood back, eyes fixed but unmoving.
Zhayne met their gaze. For a heartbeat, he hung on the edge. Then, with the last of his strength, he hurled his body backward and leapt.
Leon and Vincent caught him. Their grip strained, muscles trembling as they hauled him over the edge. The wheel behind him split apart and dropped, swallowed by the pit of balloons below.
Jayson staggered out of the machine.
Victoria and Clara rushed in from the side, voices overlapping, questions tumbling. “Zhayne, are you okay?!”
He could barely breathe. His face burned red, his chest heaved, one leg twisted awkwardly from the fall. He clutched Leon’s hand, eyes wide and unfocused.
“I… saw…” His voice cracked. He gulped air. “The banana man… cut apart…”
Clara and Victoria exchanged a look, both of them visibly unsettled.
Leon slipped an arm under Zhayne's shoulder while Jason grabbed the other side, hoisting him up carefully Zhayne hissed through his teeth, his leg had twisted badly, sending him a sharp ache through him each time they shifted his weight
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Rafael frowned, cutting a glance at “What are you even wearing?” he muttered, his tone sharp with disbelief.
Jayson only waved him off, the corner of his mouth pulling into a bright, almost careless smile. “Later, later,” he said, stashing the question away as though it didn’t matter.
Clara’s gaze dropped, and her stomach tightened. Her short black hair, cut in a blunt line with bangs brushing just before her green eyes, swung forward as she leaned down. The floor beneath them was slowly flooding with a yellowish liquid that rippled and spread in every direction.
"We need to leave" she said, her voice tight.
No one argued. They hurried toward the only escape they could see, a door painted with childish balloons. The moment they pushed through it, the frame blinked out of existence, leaving nothing behind.
They stumbled into the stage again. But it was different now. The rows of seats were gone, replaced instead by two wide square tables, each formed a single massive yellow balloon, smooth and glossy. Around each one sat six chairs, twelve in total, also shaped from individual red balloons, their surfaces trembling faintly, threatening to pop at the slightest touch.
For a moment, the group just stared at the setup, confusion pressing down on them. Then their eyes shifted to the far end of the stage.
Two girls stood there, side by side. Same hair. Same height. Same face.
It took only a heartbeat for the realization to sink in.
“Lucy…” Jayson's voice broke the silence, low and uncertain
Ron was already there, arms hanging loosely at his sides. Saymon stood nearby, his gaze locked on the floor. Dark shadows dragged beneath his eyes, red and swollen as though he’d been crying. Two men from his group lingered close to him, laughing and chatting far too loudly, their voices clashing with the heavy strangeness of the place. Clara moved quickly to Saymon’s side, protective without a second thought.
But Zhayne barely registered any of it. His thoughts were elsewhere, pulled like a thread toward the edges of the stage.
And there he was—the man in the banana costume leaning casually against the wall, arms folded as if he had been waiting all along.
Zhayne finally loosened his grip on Leon, pushing himself forward with one hand against the wall for balance. His limp was heavy and uneven, but stubborn determination carried him step after step until he reached the man in the banana costume.
The effort betrayed him at the last moment, his legs buckled, sending him stumbling forward. Before he hit the ground, the banana man's arms shot out, catching him and steadying him back to his feet.
Zhayne gripped his shoulders firmly, almost clutching at him, eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?" he asked quickly, breath uneven. "Did something happen inside? Did you get hurt?" The questions tumbled out in a rush, leaving no room for the man to reply.
Instead, symbols began to glow across the man’s chest: first a tiny image of a cart, then an X, a door, and finally a sighing face followed by a small smiling one.
“Oh…” Zhayne exhaled, his expression softening. “I’m glad.” His lips quirked faintly as he added, “My name is Zhayne, by the way.” He stretched out his hand, but the banana man didn't move
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ELC: An electric-powered costume with built-in lights that can project emojis on the face or chest to display emotions and reactions.
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Vincent and Jayson drifted toward one of the Lucys, the one clutching a neatly wrapped gift to her chest. Vincent kept calling her name, his voice rising with urgency, but she didn’t move or even look at him. Jayson, restless, reached out and tugged sharply at the ribbons. The paper fell away,revealing a polished silver watch inside the box, its screen glowing red, counting down from 30 seconds.
Vincent’s breath caught. “Jayson—step back! It’s a bomb!”
Victoria hurried over, snatching the box from Jayson before he could drop it. She studied it for a brief moment, her eyes narrowing. Then she exhaled and looked up, calm but firm. “No. It’s not. Everyone—sit down on a chair. Fast.”
The command jolted the group into action. Clara grabbed Saymon by the wrist, dragging him toward the nearest balloon chair. Ron shoved his way past the two men still laughing at nothing in particular. “Out of my way,” he snapped
One of them sneered and shoved him back, disgust written plain on his face.
Before Ron could lash out, Victoria cut in sharply: “Don’t bother.”
Leon tightened his hold on Zhayne, guiding his limping steps toward the table. Rafael, distractedly running his hand through his hair, was pulled along none too gently by Vincent. The banana-costume man moved without a word, folding into a seat at their table.
Soon, half the group had settled uneasily around one giant square balloon table, while the others sat across from them at the second.
Clara’s voice cut through the chaos. “Andrew! Oliver! Come here, fast!” she shouted, urgency sharp in every word. But within five seconds, no one moved. No one even flinched.
The countdown on the watch hit zero.
In an instant, a large, sharp blade, suspended by a rope, swung down with terrifying speed. It split through the air, cleaving a figure in its path. The head fell forward, landing in front of the tables with a sickening thud, while dark blood splattered across the glossy yellow balloon surfaces.
Vincent had anticipated the horror. He had warned his friends in advance to close their eyes. Most of them obeyed, squeezing their eyelids shut, hearts hammering.
Zhayne, however, had opened his. His gaze landed on Leon—but Leon had already seen it. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he turned his head slightly, nodding subtly to Zhayne: don’t look.
The room froze, the ticking of the watch now eerily quiet against the shock and fear that gripped them all.
The two Lucys moved with uncanny precision, their motions stiff and robotic. Each carried a long black hat in her hands. Carefully, they lifted the severed heads and lowered them into the hats.
After handling the heads, they placed a glass container beside every person in the room. Then, without pause, they began filling the containers with balloons, the same ones Zhayne and his friends had caught in the previous game. By the time they finished, the containers in front of Zhayne and his friends were overflowing, far more crowded with balloons than the others.
TABLE ONE : ZHAYNE, LEON, RAFAEL, JAYSON, XXXXX
TABLE TWO: CLARA, RON, VICTORIA, SAYMON,......,.......

