The Blue Pill
Lunchtime ended, and everyone gathered back in the hall. But the hall looked different now. Iron bars were lined up along both walls, from high ones down to low ones, stretching out in a long row. There were way more than the ones we'd seen during yesterday's physical check.
What the hell? Another pull-up test? I remembered barely managing fifteen yesterday. No way they'd make us do pull-ups in our underwear again... right? Then again, considering the vibe of this gig, underwear might actually be the tame option.
As I sat in my chair, scanning the room, the host grabbed the mic.
"Alright, time for the lunch dosing. When your name is called, come forward and swallow your pill."
Just as announced, the second round of dosing began. People stepped up one by one, taking their pills. Some swallowed them casually, while others looked anxious, forcing them down with water. Then my name was called.
I went up and took the pill from the researcher. But...
It was a different color from the one I'd taken that morning. The morning pill had been red. This one in my palm was blue.
My heart started pounding. If the color meant different effects, this was probably the pill Group A had taken that morning. I didn't know exactly what it did, but the people who'd swallowed it had definitely been off. They'd banded together without any resistance despite just meeting, and accepted getting naked like it was no big deal. That wasn't normal.
But during lunch, Yoon Seo-yeon and Na Ye-jin hadn't seemed weird at all. They'd chatted like regular people, ate their food, traded jokes. Even when Na Ye-jin teased me or Yoon Seo-yeon worried about Ha-young, they didn't act drugged.
So the effect must last about four hours. Morning dosing around 8 a.m., and by noon lunch, it had worn off. Eating this would confirm it. The morning pill was fake; this was the real deal.
Suddenly, the blue pill in my palm looked terrifying. But I couldn't skip it. Refusing meant getting sent home—bye-bye, five million won.
I shoved down the anxiety, popped it in my mouth, and washed it down with a sip of water. The tiny pill sliding down my throat felt unnaturally huge.
There was no way it'd kick in right away. But I felt a wave of dizziness. No, that's just psychosomatic. I'd already convinced myself this was the real one. Probably placebo. Stay calm. Still, better safe than sorry. From now on, I had to stay sharp. Figuring out this drug's effect would be the key to winning whatever came next.
I returned to my seat next to Ha-young and whispered, "If you feel anything weird from now on, tell me, okay?"
She looked at me, her eyes serious—like she'd already guessed. "You think this one's the real drug, huh?"
I widened my eyes. This girl... sharp as hell. During lunch, when we'd talked about Group A's unity, my suspicions had stayed in my head. I hadn't said it out loud, but she'd reached the same conclusion.
I nodded gravely. She nodded back, then stared down at the back of her hand—no changes yet—like she was trying to sense something shifting.
Before I knew it, dosing was over, and everyone was back in their seats. The host grabbed the mic again.
"Now for the third program—"
It's simple, I figured. That's what he'd said for the first two. And neither had been simple.
"—it's not simple."
...What? First time being honest. If anything, that made me more uneasy. Twice he'd called it simple when it wasn't—now openly saying it wasn't? How bad could it be?
"It'll require a ton of stamina. A real showdown."
Stamina. So that's what the bars were for.
"I'll give you ten OX questions. The group with more people left standing after all ten wins."
OX quiz? Why would that need stamina?
"Look left and right—those are the bars. From my view, right side is O, left is X."
As he finished, other researchers brought out signs: huge O on one side, huge X on the other, placed in front of the bars.
"Pick your answer, then hang from the bar. Feet off the ground counts as your choice."
A murmur rippled through the hall. No one had expected a stamina test now.
"Um... how many seconds do we hang?" a woman from Group A asked, hand raised.
"Thirty seconds. Timer starts one minute after the question ends. Hold on without dropping, and it's good. Drop, and even if you picked right, you're out."
Thirty seconds. Nothing for guys. Basic stuff from the physical check. But for women? First one's easy. But over ten questions, fatigue builds—thirty seconds gets brutal later. Dropouts would spike among the girls.
What's the point of this experiment? Numbers before, now stamina.
But I realized that was wrong thinking right away.
"Even if you drop out, you get another shot."
The host's voice softened. In this job, soft voices always signaled danger.
"Drop? Take off one piece of clothing for a re-challenge. No more clothes? No re-do."
...What? Same old story. No—worse. Before, it was inspections or orders; you could cover up standing or sitting. Hanging? Both hands on the bar. Nothing to cover with. Everything exposed.
Guy or girl, first two drops: top and pants. Third for guys: naked. Fourth for girls: naked. Then hang thirty seconds. Naked. Under everyone's eyes.
Just imagining it was horrifying.
As my face darkened, Ha-young said from beside me, "Si-woo, just get it right."
Obviously. Then it hit me—what she meant. Stripping only happens on dropouts. Nail the answer and hold thirty seconds? No stripping. This was a knowledge battle. Stamina secondary.
And OX quizzes have a killer strategy: split on unknowns. Solo, it's 50-50 gamble. Team? Split halves—half survives either way. Problem: gotta do it in one minute.
I quickly called out to Group B. "Everyone, huddle up here!"
They looked at me. Morning me would've gotten "Who the hell are you to order us?" vibes. Not now. They checked my face, then gathered one by one. No hesitation.
The hallway cheers, walling for Ha-young, naked confession—all built trust. All eighteen of Group B stood before me.
I took a deep breath. "In team OX, unknowns matter most." Kept it fast and clear. "If someone knows the answer, raise hand and say it—everyone goes that way. But picking and climbing in one minute? Tight. So I'll assign numbers now."
Splitting eighteen in sixty seconds? Chaos. Numbers make it snap.
"I'm one. Clockwise: two, three, four..." Pointed each out. They nodded, memorizing.
Ha-young was nine.
"Unknown? We split halves. Odds O, evens X. I'll call number and side—move fast."
Pretty bossy. Not my usual style. Morning? Complaints. "Who died and made you king?" Nothing. They got it—this was best.
Then the host: "One more thing. Tie at the end? Group A wins."
What? Group B erupted.
"What? Why do they win?"
"Handicap on us?"
"Unfair!"
Protests everywhere. I was about to gripe too, but the host calmly replied, "Stamina favors guys. Group A has one more woman. Handicap for fairness."
True. Not even gender split overall—two extra women. Group A: 8 guys, 10 girls. Group B: 9 guys, 9 girls. One less girl hurts us.
No arguing. Tie loses. We needed more survivors. I gritted my teeth.
"Get ready. First question soon."
No time to plan. No leeway picking. OX with bullshit rules.
Fine. Nail the answers. Unity means someone knows.
"First question." The host unfolded a paper.
"Mount Rinjani in Indonesia is 3,726 meters tall. O or X? One minute—pick."
Whatwhatwhat? What mountain?? Never heard of it. Rinjani? Indonesia? 3,726m?
Glanced at Group B—pure panic. No one knew.
Can't know this. All questions like this? No time to freeze. Unknowns are key. Now's it.
"Odds to O, evens to X!" I yelled. Numbers paid off.
Group B moved like clockwork. Odds right to O bars, evens left to X. Pre-planned, no lag.
I was one—odd—to O.
Group A? Chaos. Glancing around, scattering randomly. No morning unity.
At O bars, I counted quick. O packed—23 total. Group A 14, us 9. Rest on X. A scattered wild, we split perfect.
Grabbed the bar. Cold metal bit palms. Feet off—hanging. One minute flew. Pick, move, hang—breathless already.
Hanging, host announced: "Three with feet down—out."
Turned. At O: two Group A guys, one Group B girl standing, no spot. Bars have limits.
They looked pissed. Picked right, but no room? Out. Our girl—one loss already. Teeth grinding. Didn't expect that variable first go. Next time, account for crowding.
"Answer in thirty seconds."
Silence for thirty. First one—no drops. Easy hold.
But ten times? Later thirties crush.
"Answer... O."
Relief—then froze. O right? Group A all on O survive.
Counted fast: 23 on O, A had 14. Minus two no-spot: 12. 12 right from A? How?
Someone knew? Dropped down, stared at Group A. They looked shocked too—like lucky guessers. No Rinjani experts.
Just crowd luck. And it favored A.
Heading back, passed Na Ye-jin.
"Heh... just luck. OX's like that." Hollow smile, no morning swagger. Vibe off from lunch. Real luck? Or something?
Watched her back—no morning ease. Drug worn off. Morning's bold A now average folks: fumbling, random, gut picks.
We'd just taken real drug. No effect yet—but when? Shame gone like morning A? Or other?
But quiz first. Sorted first round: our no-spot girl out, plus X wrongs. Ten total gone. We're behind. Tie-lose rule. Nine left. Unknown drug. Worry crept back.
These programs rigged for A?
A chill ran down my spine.