The Cage of Conscience

Her voice dropped, but the quietness only made her words cut sharper, louder than if she'd shouted.

There was no sisterhood in that moment—Anna frowned deeply, and Katya looked away, as if she couldn’t bear to face Olga. Even Igor stiffened slightly in his corner.

I knew where she kept her documents, – Olga continued, her voice low. – We trusted each other. She thought I was her friend. Her real friend. And that trust… is exactly what I used against her.

She glanced at Vadim as if challenging him, but he only raised a brow slightly, face unreadable. Artyom turned away, though there was nowhere to hide from the sound of her voice.

I forged documents. Took her reports and added mistakes—errors that had never been there. I left a few 'accidental' files on her desktop with blatant confidentiality violations. And, of course, there was the anonymous letter to HR. – Her bitter smile returned, faint but razor-sharp. – Everything was perfectly executed. Anya had no idea what was happening. Until she was called in.

Her fingers dug into her arms, nails pressing into skin, but she kept her voice steady—chillingly so.

She was fired. Naturally, she cried. She said it couldn’t be real—that she would never have made those mistakes. But the evidence… it was too convincing. And I… – she paused, her eyes dimming just slightly, – I sat beside her and comforted her. Hugged her. Told her everything would be okay. And then I took her place.

Olga looked around as if measuring how far she'd gone. Anna stared at her with disgust. Igor fixed his eyes on the floor, his face unmoved, though his gaze seemed lost in deep thought—the similarity to his own story unmistakable. Artyom looked like he wanted to speak, but chose silence instead.

You know, – Olga added, voice softer now, – at first, I thought I’d won. I got the job I wanted. Everything went according to plan. But every time I looked at her old desk—my new desk—I saw her. Saw her smile. Heard her talk about her dreams. – She bit her lip but quickly regained composure. – And now… now I don’t know what happened to her. Maybe she found another job. Or maybe she never recovered.

Her eyes swept the room again, cold and calculating.

And yes, I don’t regret my choice, – she said defiantly, though her voice trembled slightly. – But sometimes I wonder… was it really worth it?

Her words left behind a suffocating silence. No one knew what to say. Even Vadim, always composed, sat quietly, his gaze heavy. Igor looked like he was trying to drown out his own memories. Artyom ran a hand through his hair again but said nothing.

Olga tilted her head down, face impassive. Only her eyes betrayed a flicker of pain she refused to show.

Then Vadim, who had been lounging comfortably all this time, suddenly sat up. His gray-green eyes, cold and predatory, swept across the room. He paused, as if savoring the tension, then gave a crooked, almost mocking smile.

Well, – he said, voice calm, even lazy. – I suppose it’s time I entertain you with my story. Fair warning though—it won’t earn your sympathy.

Anna tensed, her face hardening. Katya, still sniffling, lifted her eyes—confused, wary, nearly calm. Igor and Artyom watched Vadim, puzzled, but Vadim seemed to bask in their attention.

I have a younger sister, – he began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked. – Or rather, I had. She’s still alive, technically, but… we don’t speak anymore. Her name’s Sveta. Sweet girl. Kind. Trusting. You know, the classic ‘little sister’ type.

He paused, tilting his head slightly, and continued—his voice lower now, laced with scornful amusement.

We had a family business. After our parents died, we inherited it equally. Half to her, half to me. Sounds fair, right? But the problem was… Sveta had no idea what she was doing. Too soft. Too… naïve. Honestly, I never believed she deserved that share.

Anna turned sharply toward him, eyes blazing. Katya pulled her arms close, as though to shield herself from the words. Igor’s lips were pressed tightly shut, his face shadowed. Vadim, meanwhile, remained utterly composed.

She was too busy with her 'dreams', – he went on, curling his lip. – Wanted to open an animal shelter, do charity work. You know, typical of someone who doesn’t understand real money and how the world works.

His smile widened. He leaned in slightly, savoring every syllable.

I realized this couldn’t go on. If she kept her share, she’d waste it. Or worse—give it away to strays. And business? Business is serious. It’s my legacy. – He met Anna’s furious gaze and added smoothly, – Sometimes, you have to make hard choices. You understand that, right?

No. I don’t, – Anna snapped. Her voice rang with restrained fury. – How can you do that to your own family?

Vadim ignored her entirely, his tone unchanged.

I convinced her to sign some documents. She thought it was just formalities. You see, people trust those they love. I explained a few things, lied here and there, dressed it up just right. In the end, she signed papers that gave up her share. Everything became mine.

Katya clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes brimming with tears. Artyom looked like he was ready to leave the room but stayed seated, fists clenched. Igor sighed deeply, gaze averted, his expression even darker. Anna, on the other hand, stared at Vadim with visible disgust.

And her? – Anna asked, her voice quiet but brimming with icy rage. – What did she do when she found out?

Vadim finally looked at her, something like mockery flickering in his eyes.

Oh, she cried. Of course. Made a scene. Accused me of betrayal. But you know how it is—tears don’t solve anything. I gave her some money. Enough to start her ‘new life.’ Haven’t seen her since.

He leaned back, hands behind his head, adding casually:

And you know what? I don’t regret a thing. The business is thriving. I got everything I wanted. And her? Probably forgotten by now. If I had to do it all over again—I would. No hesitation.

His words left a tomb-like silence. Anna jumped up from her seat, wordless, her face twisted in a mix of rage and revulsion. She looked like she might strike him, but held herself back.

Katya turned away, curling in on herself, overwhelmed. Artyom’s breathing grew heavier, fists still clenched. Igor slowly raised his head—his eyes shining with fury, though he said nothing.

Vadim glanced around the room with a calm, almost bored expression. He clearly relished the reaction, like a performer receiving applause for his most vicious monologue. But at the corners of his mouth, something trembled—a flicker of bitterness he could not completely hide.

When Vadim finished speaking, silence descended upon the room like a heavy blanket. No one dared to speak, yet each person struggled to make sense of what they had just heard, trying to decide how they now felt about this man.

Anna stood with clenched fists, her face twisted in a blend of fury and disgust, while Igor—usually calm and composed—looked as though a storm was raging inside him.

But before either of them could speak, the voice returned. It rang out again—cold, emotionless, just as before. Only now it was louder, as if to deliberately cut through the tide of their emotions.

You have successfully completed the task. Your capacity for confession has been noted.

Those words only deepened the cracks already spreading through their fragile states. Yet no one moved, no one made a sound. The voice offered nothing more, leaving them alone—with themselves, and with the truth that now tore each of them apart from within.

Anna, as if unable to bear it any longer, took a step back. Then another. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her eyes darted frantically about the room, and her heart pounded against her ribs. She looked as though she were about to scream, but held herself back.

Katya had slid down to the floor, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her quiet sobs grew louder. She covered her face with her hands, unable to withstand the suffocating atmosphere. Artyom looked at her, opened his mouth as though to speak—but changed his mind and turned away. His gaze landed on an empty corner of the room, as if seeking refuge in its emptiness from what had just transpired.

Vadim, by contrast, looked almost pleased with himself. His face remained calm, even faintly smug. He had kept his promise. He had spoken—delivering a storm of silent emotion. His eyes swept over the others, then he stood and walked toward his bed without another word.

Igor rose quietly from his seat. He looked weary, but his eyes were filled with a tense, brooding thoughtfulness. For a moment, he looked at Vadim—his gaze heavy, full of undisguised contempt—but quickly looked away. Then he turned to Anna, who still stood frozen, fists clenched.

Anna,” he said softly but firmly. – You need to calm down. It’s over now.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance his way. Igor stepped a little closer, his hands rising slightly, as if to touch her shoulder—but he stopped, unable to bring himself to do it.

I know this is terrible, – he continued, his voice gentler now. – But you're not alone. We’re all here. We all went through it. It’s… it’s just part of the game. But it’s not you. You’re strong.

Anna turned on him sharply, her eyes flashing with rage and pain.

Igor, just don’t, – she said flatly. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it carried the full weight of her anguish. – Don’t say you understand. You don’t understand anything.

She took another step back. Then another, widening the distance between them. Her face remained hard, but her eyes held a sorrow so deep it bordered on bottomless. She turned away without waiting for a reply and retreated to a corner of the room, where she sat at the edge of a bed, knees pulled to her chest. Her gaze fixed on the wall, as if searching for answers that simply didn’t exist.

Igor stayed where he was. His hands slowly dropped to his sides, shoulders sagging just slightly. He made no move to follow her—only stood in silence, watching her go. His weary face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes revealed a quiet, crushing guilt.

The room sank once more into silence, but now it felt like a black hole, pulling everyone inward into its void. No one wanted to speak. Each person was lost in battle—with their thoughts, with their pain. With the new reality.

Each of them had become a traitor.

The air was thick with tension, yet there was nowhere for it to go.

And so they remained—silent figures in a room where no one was just physically confined, but trapped within their own guilt.

Chapter 5

The next morning, after breakfast, the participants scattered throughout the room, each retreating into the solitude of their own thoughts. Despite the limited space, the room seemed to expand around them, emphasizing their isolation. Anna sat at the edge of her bed, head lowered. Her fingers absently fidgeted with the end of her sleeve, as if trying to focus on that motion alone—to keep the anxious thoughts at bay.

Despite the tension that hung over the group, Katya dared to break the silence. She slowly approached Anna and stopped beside her, offering a timid smile.

Maybe… we could do something to distract ourselves? Play a game later? – she suggested. Her voice trembled, yet carried a genuine note of hope. – It might help… right?

Anna didn’t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, her face distant and closed off. Katya, unable to bear the silence, stepped back. She walked over to the wall, leaned against it, and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes darted around the room, but no one answered her.

Igor seemed entirely absorbed in his work. He had seated himself at the table where a previously discovered laptop lay open. His nimble fingers tapped swiftly across the keyboard, his eyes scanning the screen with tense concentration. From time to time, he frowned, checking line after line. Finally, he stopped, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his face with both hands.

It’s useless, – he said quietly, but his voice carried clearly in the oppressive stillness of the room. – They’ve planned everything. There’s no way out.

His words fell like a heavy stone on everyone present. Katya bit her lip, holding back tears. Vadim, standing off to the side and idly flipping buttons on the TV remote, smirked and shook his head.

There’s always a way out,” he said calmly, with a faint trace of mockery. – The question is whether you’re willing to pay the price.

Anna, who had remained silent until then, lifted her head and looked at him. Her gaze, unexpectedly firm, now held a spark of resolve.

A price? – she echoed. – And what price are you ready to pay to get out of here?

Vadim tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her question. He slowly straightened up, his voice turning cold and assured.

That depends on the circumstances. But one thing I know for sure—pity won’t help anyone here.

Anna frowned, her fingers curling into fists. She opened her mouth, as though to reply, then thought better of it. Her gaze dropped once more, but something inside her had shifted—like a wall long keeping her safe had begun to crumble.

In a chair in the far corner, Olga had remained silent all this time. Her posture was rigidly upright, though tension radiated from her every movement. Her fingers tapped anxiously on the armrest—an uneven, nervous rhythm. At some point, she looked up and fixed her eyes on Vadim.

He’s right, – she said sharply, breaking her silence. Her voice was firm, but laced with irritation—perhaps at the truth she didn’t want to accept. – Weakness will destroy us. And if any of you haven’t realized that yet, let me remind you: yesterday’s task was just the beginning.

Her words shattered something in Katya, who burst into sobs. She turned toward the wall, covering her face with her hands. Igor glanced at Olga, then at Vadim, but said nothing. Anna, however, looked up again. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her eyes, for a moment, burned with a hardened glare.

Weakness? – she repeated slowly, her voice trembling under the weight of unspoken emotion. – That’s not weakness, Olga. It’s what makes us human. Do you even understand that?

Olga gave a dry, bitter laugh—far from anything joyful.

Human? – she said sarcastically. – There’s no room for humanity here, Anna. Either you adapt, or you vanish. The Voice made that clear. The choice is ours—but the price is obvious.

Anna stood abruptly. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she didn’t back down.

There’s always a choice! – she cried. Her voice shook, yet in it rang a desperate kind of defiance. – Even if everything is against us. I won’t let them turn me into an animal.

Her words drew a wave of varied reactions: Katya sobbed louder, Igor looked away, and Vadim merely smirked, shaking his head.

Let’s see how long those principles last, – he muttered with a crooked grin.

Then, the Voice returned—cutting through the tension like a blade. Its mechanical tone, stripped of all emotion, seemed to suck the very air from the room.

Today’s task has been assigned. It involves physical intimacy, – it announced, each syllable landing with icy precision. – Pairings for the task will be designated by me.

The words hung in the air like frozen time. The participants exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of fear, disbelief, and secret hope that they would be spared. Silence stretched until the Voice continued.

Olga and Vadim.

A simple naming of two people—but it struck like a sentence, not only for them, but for everyone else in the room.

Four pairs of eyes turned toward the named pair. Their gazes darted back and forth between them—horror, shock, pity—all tangled in helplessness. Katya covered her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. Igor clasped his hands tightly together, struggling to maintain composure. Anna stared at Olga, her face dark with repressed fury and inner protest.

Olga suddenly sat bolt upright, her whole body tensed. Her gaze locked on Vadim, who stood calmly to the side, eyeing her with an almost mocking indifference. She drew a deep breath and forced out her words.

This is impossible. I won’t take part in this farce. You can’t make me!

Her voice rang out, high and trembling with emotion. Vadim merely raised an eyebrow, as though amused by her resistance. He crossed his arms and stepped half a pace forward, saying nothing—leaving it to the Voice to settle the matter.

Refusal to comply will result in severe punishment, – the Voice stated coolly. – Yesterday’s events serve as proof.

The mention of punishment hit them all. Katya hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Igor squinted, his jaw twitching with tension, as though struck by sudden pain. Anna looked at Olga, something wild flashing in her eyes.

Don’t obey, Olga, – she said suddenly, stepping forward. Her voice was loud, nearly desperate. – Let them do what they want, but this—

Olga turned on her sharply, cutting her off.

You don’t understand! – she nearly hissed. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with anger. – If I refuse, they’ll find a way to break ALL of us. Or are you fine with that?

Anna froze. Her lips parted, but no words came. At that moment, Vadim took another step forward. His tone, like always, was cold and tinged with a hint of amusement.

Stop acting like children, – he said, glancing between Olga and Anna. – This is a survival game. You either play, or you lose. Breaking or resisting—those aren’t choices. They’re just another form of weakness.

Weakness?! – Olga turned on him, her voice rising to a scream. – You call this weakness—what they’re forcing us to become?!

It’s a choice, Olga, – he replied, his voice flat. – Whether you like it or not.

Then the Voice interrupted again, slicing through their argument.

The task must be completed. You have five minutes to prepare. Failure to comply will result in immediate removal.

The words were final—like a full stop at the end of a sentence. Everyone froze, afraid to even breathe.

If you think this is a game, – Olga spat, walking past him toward the bed, – then you’re worse than them.

Vadim said nothing. His face remained a stone mask, though a faint smile touched his lips. He followed her in silence.

The room once again descended into a heavy, tangible silence. No one dared make a sound. All eyes silently followed Olga and Vadim as they prepared to carry out the task, fully aware that these few minutes marked only the beginning of a new, darker spiral in their shared tragedy.

Olga stood trembling, nearly choking on her own outrage. Her cheeks burned, and fury seemed to flood every inch of her. She shot a glance at Vadim, waiting—pleading, perhaps—for any reaction, but he remained utterly still. His face was a mask, cold and expressionless. That only stoked her anger further.

So you’re just going to stay silent? – she shouted, her voice vibrating with tension. – You’re really going to go along with this circus? Is this okay with you—that they’re turning us into animals?!

Vadim, without shifting position, raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward her—as if her words had barely warranted his attention. But his gray-green eyes, sharp and cold, pierced her with a glint of mockery.

Are you finished? – he asked, his voice even, almost lazy, laced with barely veiled sarcasm.

Those words were like gasoline on a fire. Olga clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palms, leaving angry red marks. She took a step closer, nearly violating the space between them.

How can you be so calm? – she hissed. Her voice was quieter now, but no less threatening. – Do you really think this is fine? That we’re just puppets to be used at will?

Fine?” Vadim repeated, his tone glacial. He stepped to the side, distancing himself from her fury. – There’s no such thing as fine here. No right or wrong. Only rules. And if you can’t accept that, then that’s your problem.

Olga’s eyes widened. Her face twisted with disbelief and fury. She opened her mouth to speak, but the voice from the speaker interrupted her, indifferent and perfectly timed.

Any resistance will lead to severe consequences for the entire group, – it intoned with the same mechanical neutrality—devoid of anything human. – You were given a choice. The allotted time has been reduced.

The words froze her in place. She turned, scanning the others for any sign of support—but no one met her eyes. Anna sat with her hands clenched in her lap, Katya was sobbing softly, her face hidden in her palms, and Igor sat at the table, staring at the laptop screen—doing nothing. Just avoiding.

A surge of despair rose in her chest, mixed with helpless rage. She looked back at Vadim, who now seemed completely uninterested in her resistance. He stood leaning slightly against the back of a chair, a look of boredom on his face.

You’re not giving me a choice, – she whispered, barely audible. But her voice held no surrender—only exhaustion.

You never had one, – Vadim replied quietly, as if he’d known all along that she would yield. – You just realized it a little late.

Those words finally broke something in her. Olga closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, fighting back the tears rising in her throat. She turned away, took a few steps toward the bed, and stopped. Her shoulders sagged. Her arms hung limp at her sides. She looked like someone who had run out of strength to fight.

The voice resumed, pushing her forward with cold urgency:

The task must be completed. Time remaining: three minutes.

The number echoed in her head. She turned to glance at Vadim, who at last moved from his spot. His face showed no fear, no hesitation—only a calm so cold it seemed to crush everything around it. He stepped closer, stopping just in front of her, and, tilting his head slightly, spoke:

Stop tormenting yourself. It’s just a game. Filthy, disgusting—but a game. The sooner you accept that, the easier it’ll be.

Olga lifted her eyes to him, and her gaze said it all—hatred, despair, helplessness. She didn’t answer. She simply turned away, muttering over her shoulder:

So be it. But know this, Vadim—you will never be a human being to me.

He smiled—empty, hollow.

I’m not trying to be, – he replied.

Silence fell once more. The others didn’t move, as if even the air had thickened around them, pressing down. The voice delivered its final warning.

Olga remained frozen, unable to tear her eyes from the floor. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts. Words lodged in her throat, unspoken and now unreachable. Tears spilled down her flushed cheeks in slow, steady lines. Her shoulders trembled, and she looked broken—but still tried to preserve the last fragments of dignity.

Vadim, by contrast, moved with frigid composure. His face was stone. His gaze—calm and icy. He wasn’t rushing, but every step he took carried a silent, unshakable resolve.

When he stopped in front of her, towering slightly above, she saw nothing in his eyes. No sympathy. No compassion. Just emptiness, masked by indifference.

Their eyes met—and hers flinched with pain and anger, drowning in the realization of her own powerlessness. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to run, hide, disappear from this humiliation. But her legs refused to move. She knew: there was nowhere to go.

Go, – Vadim said quietly, but firmly, nodding toward the bed.

His voice was calm—oppressively calm, as though the decision had already been made for both of them. His words sealed it: there was no choice anymore.

Olga bit her lip to suppress the sob rising in her throat and slowly walked toward the bed.

Her steps were unsteady. Each leg felt like stone. Her hands trembled, but she kept them at her sides, trying not to show weakness. Still, her back—once perfectly straight—now hunched ever so slightly. Her shoulders hung low. Every step echoed in the thick silence, broken only by her breath and the weight of everyone's stares.

The others remained silent. Katya turned away, her sobs muffled. Anna sat frozen, hands limp on her knees, her eyes fixed somewhere off to the side, as though trying to block it all out. Igor still sat at the table, but his fingers no longer moved across the keyboard. He gripped them tightly together, his knuckles white, refusing to look toward the bed. His face revealed a bitter inner war.