Forbidden Rules

"Official Code of Conduct"

Always maintain composure and absolute courtesy.

Trust your eyes; they are the only tool you can rely on.

Strictly follow the prompt at the entrance of each room; it is the only path to the next area.

During the trial, you may encounter other "staff members." Do not initiate conversation or make eye contact with them. They are merely background elements.

Any act of damaging the facility will be considered a severe violation.

The "Guide's" voice is the absolute authority and must be obeyed without question.

We wish you a successful trial.

Prologue: The Contract of the White Room

Consciousness surfaced like a sunken ship from a cold, deep sea. When Jack regained his senses, he found himself in a seamless, pure white cubic prison. There were no doors, no windows; even the seams where the walls, ceiling, and floor met had vanished, creating a single, smooth entity like bone china. A peculiar scent permeated the air—a chilling mixture that seemed to be part hospital disinfectant, part aging circuitry, and part absolute zero, piercing his nostrils.

He hadn't been kidnapped. He had walked into this void voluntarily.

Fragments of memory began to reassemble in his chaotic mind, each piece bringing a sharp, agonizing pain: his daughter Lily's face, pale as paper; the rhythmic, cold hiss of the ventilator; the doctor's helpless, hesitant eyes; and the astronomical medical bills that could crush any family. In his desperation, a mysterious email had appeared like a devil's invitation. Its subject line read: [A Chance to Change Your Fate]. The content was bizarrely simple: an address, a time, and a single sentence: "Bring your strongest wish, and we will grant it."

With no other options left, Jack had gambled with himself. And now, here he was.

A toneless, electronic voice, belonging to no discernible gender, echoed through the white space.

[Welcome, Participant No. 734, Mr. Jack Anderson.]

Jack shot up from the floor, his eyes darting around warily. His voice was hoarse with tension. "Who are you? Where is this?"

[You may call me the "Guide." This place is the execution site of the "Qualification Screening Protocol," a trial ground for testing eligibility and granting wishes.]

"My wish..." Jack's voice trembled; it was his only hope. "Can you... can you really cure my daughter?"

[As long as you can complete the trial, anything is possible.] The electronic voice stated the fatal temptation with unnerving calm. [Your rewards include: First, your daughter, Lily Anderson, will receive a full recovery. We will cover all past and future medical expenses and provide top-tier medical resources, even those surpassing the technology of the current era. Second, a trust fund substantial enough for you and your daughter to live without a single worry in any country, for eternity.]

The temptation was suffocating. Jack clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, using the pain to confirm he wasn't dreaming. "The trial... what is it?"

[It is simple. You only need to pass through a few rooms to reach the end.] The voice paused. [Before entering the trial, you have read and agreed to the "Official Code of Conduct." You must etch it into your soul.]

[Now then, Mr. Anderson,] the electronic voice resumed, [please turn around. Your first door has appeared.]

Jack did as instructed. On the smooth wall behind him, an old wooden door had materialized out of nowhere. A brass plaque hung on it, engraved with elegant script:

[Please choose your favorite color and say it aloud.]

Next to the doorknob were two cool-to-the-touch buttons: one as red as fresh blood, the other as blue as the sky.

What kind of test was this? Jack frowned. He thought of his daughter, Lily. Her favorite color was blue. She said it was the color of the sky and the sea, representing freedom and hope. The thought gave his chaotic mind an anchor.

Without hesitation, he reached out and pressed the blue button. At the same time, he remembered the first rule—"maintain courtesy"—so he cleared his throat and said in a calm, respectful tone, "I choose blue. Thank you."

The button depressed, and the door clicked open, revealing a deep, dark corridor beyond.

[A perfect start, Mr. Anderson. Please proceed.] The Guide's voice seemed to carry a hint of almost imperceptible approval.

Jack took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor. He failed to notice that behind him, around the unchosen red button, a faint wisp of scarlet slowly seeped out, like a ruptured capillary in the wall itself, before quickly vanishing.

Act One: The Crying Corridor and the "Background Element"

The corridor was long, with rough, damp stone walls that trickled with water. It smelled of earth mixed with the decay of some unknown organic matter. A single, dim, swaying bulb hung from the ceiling every ten meters, stretching and compressing his shadow, like a silent ghost playing a game of chase with him.

A sound gradually grew clearer in the air.

A whimper.

It sounded like a woman's soft sobbing, the despair and pain in her voice like hooks, threatening to catch his soul and drag it into an abyss of sorrow. The sound echoed in the empty corridor, sometimes near, sometimes far. Jack immediately tensed, remembering Rule 4 of the Code of Conduct: Do not initiate conversation or make eye contact with "staff members." They are merely background elements.

This weeping, without a doubt, came from one of these so-called "background elements."

He clenched his fists, kept his eyes fixed forward, and forced himself to quicken his pace. He trusted only his eyes, as Rule 2 stated. And his eyes told him there was a door at the end of the corridor. That was his goal.

The crying grew louder, almost as if it were right beside his ear. The sound was filled with a sorrowful allure, tugging at the most primitive human instinct of sympathy. Jack felt a wave of irritation and distress. He forced himself to picture Lily's face, smiling at him bravely from her hospital bed, to fight against the erosion of the mournful sound.

"Help me..." a voice, so faint it was almost swallowed by the darkness, suddenly came from a stone alcove to his left.

Jack's body went rigid. He risked a quick glance from the corner of his eye. A woman in a tattered white hospital gown was curled up in the shadows, her long hair hanging down like seaweed, obscuring her face. Only a pair of eyes, gleaming faintly in the dark and filled with desperation, were visible.

"Please... just look at me... just one look is all I ask..." the woman's voice pleaded with a heart-wrenching sorrow that threatened to melt his resolve.

Jack's heart pounded against his ribs. Rule 4, do not make eye contact! This is a trap!

He violently snapped his head back, staring intently at the door ahead, his quick walk breaking into a jog.

"Why won't you look at me?!" The woman's voice instantly turned shrill and venomous, all trace of sorrow gone. "Do you look down on me?! You cold-blooded hypocrite!"

The hairs on the back of Jack's neck stood on end, but he didn't dare turn back. He could only run, run with all his might.

"STOP!"

An inhuman roar, accompanied by the sharp sound of something tearing through the air, came from behind him. Acting on pure survival instinct, Jack threw himself to the right.

SCRAPE—!

The sound of tearing fabric exploded at the same time as a searing pain in his left arm. He tumbled to the ground, rolling twice before stopping. He looked back in terror—right where he had been standing, five deep claw marks were gouged into the stone wall, sending rock dust trickling down.

The woman was now standing, or rather, that "thing." Its body was contorted in an anti-physical posture, its fingers had become long, black claws, and its face no longer had features. It had melted and twisted into a single, screaming black void.

It wasn't a "staff member" at all! It was a monster from this trial ground!

Jack scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding left arm, and sprinted madly toward the door at the end of the corridor. The monster let out a piercing shriek and pursued him with a grotesque gait.

The door was close! Jack slammed into it, frantically twisting the handle. It opened. He dove inside and used every last ounce of his strength to shut the heavy stone door behind him.

BANG!

A terrifying impact came from the other side, shaking the entire door. Jack leaned his back against it, gasping for air, his clothes soaked with a mixture of cold sweat and blood.

The wound on his left arm was deep, the flesh torn open to the bone. He ripped off the sleeve of his other arm and hastily wrapped it, the intense pain nearly making him pass out.

"Calm down, Jack, calm down..." he told himself, replaying the near-death moment. He had followed Rule 4, but he was still attacked. Why?

He suddenly remembered a detail. When the woman pleaded with him, he had ignored her and run. Then, she became enraged.

[Your actions deviated from Rule 1: "Always maintain composure and absolute courtesy."] The Guide's voice chimed in, as cold as ice. [As this is your first instance of "discourtesy," it will be overlooked. Be advised, the next punishment will not be so lenient.]

Jack was stunned. Deviated from "courtesy"? Because he didn't respond to the woman's pleas?

An absurd and terrifying thought rose in his mind: Could it be that the correct course of action was to respond to her politely, without making eye contact? Something like... "My sincerest apologies, madam. I am on an urgent mission and cannot offer my assistance. I wish you well"?

He shuddered. These rules were a devil's word game. Every single word was a potential trap leading to hell.