6. A tall man with sharp, predatory eyes stormed in, flanked by two thuggish-looking cronies. I shrank back into the room, my heart pounding. "Get out. This spot is ours now!" the tall man snarled. I recognized him. He was the most aggressive one at the bakery yesterday, the one who had physically ripped bread out of other players' hands. I knew I couldn't fight him. I decided to give up my sanctuary. But as I reached the door, he whipped out a knife and pressed the cold blade against my throat. "Hand over all your money and food. Now. Or I'll gut you." The crazed, cruel look in their eyes told me they weren't bluffing. My mind raced. Fight back? I wouldn't stand a chance. Give them my money? That was the same as being eliminated, saddled with a massive debt. What could I do? I swallowed hard. "Hey, man, let's just talk about this. Robbery will get you eliminated by the system." "Shut up! I'm not asking again." The blade pressed deeper. I stopped resisting. I transferred my entire $10 balance to him. Staying alive was the only way to win the prize. The tall man snatched the money and shoved me out of the room. As they slammed the door shut, I heard them gloating. "Mugging players works like a charm. Good thing he told us it wouldn't get us kicked out. We'll never have to worry about money again." He? Who were they talking about? Robbing an NPC was forbidden, but robbing, or even killing, another player was apparently fair game. Who knew the rules so well? It was only day two, and I had lost everything. No money, no food. Was this the end? A moment later, another anonymous broadcast echoed: [Attention! Saltine crackers are now on sale at the 24-hour convenience store in Departures, Zone B!] The equipment room door opened. The tall man and his lackeys emerged. I quickly ducked into the shadows and followed them toward the store. They spent every cent of their stolen money on crackers. The moment the transaction completed, the system's voice boomed: [Players 5, 49, and 61 have been eliminated for overspending. Debt: $200,000.] The tall man howled in disbelief. "But this was money I stole! How is that overspending—" Before he could finish, he vanished in a flash of light. His two cronies disappeared a second later. Dozens of bags of crackers and several loaves of bread clattered to the floor. I sprinted forward, shucked off my jacket, and used it to scoop up every last crumb. My hunch was right. The system said overspending led to elimination, but with only a $10 starting fund, how could anyone overspend? There was only one possibility: using another player's stolen money, if it took your total spending over the initial $10 limit, counted as overspending. But the tall man hadn't been eliminated for stealing bread from other players. That meant plundering food was allowed. I could see the days ahead. Players who figured out the rules would turn on each other, fighting brutally for scraps. I had to hide this food. With this stash, I could definitely last until the end. I found five separate, secure hiding spots and distributed my supplies. One location per day. That was the plan for the next five days. After all that, my Stamina was critically low, flashing a warning. I had no choice but to go back to a terminal chair and force myself to sleep sitting up. 7. Day three. A heart-wrenching coughing fit ripped through the quiet morning, snapping everyone's attention to a young woman, Player 47. She was curled up on a cold metal bench, her body shaking violently, her face flushed a deep, alarming red. Her boyfriend, another player, looked at her with disgust. "What's wrong with you? You have a fever? Don't tell me you're not gonna make it to day seven!" The woman's voice was a weak, hoarse whisper. "I'm just… so cold. It hurts. Alex, can you just hold me?" "No way. What if you get me sick?" he shot back, stepping away. Without warning, a shrill alarm blared throughout the terminal. The heavy, rhythmic tread of boots echoed from a nearby corridor. A team in full white hazmat suits appeared and efficiently lifted the sick woman onto a stretcher. "Let me go! I don't want to be eliminated!" she screamed in terror, reaching for her boyfriend. "Alex, help me! Help me!" But Alex didn't even look back. He just turned and ran. The hazmat team ignored her cries, wheeling the stretcher away as the other players watched in horror. Seconds later, the broadcast: [Player 47, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed from the game area for quarantine. Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] [Player 87, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed… Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] Players exchanged wary, suspicious glances. "Player 87 was the one eating out of the trash yesterday. He's been sick all morning." "So you can't get a cold, and you can't get food poisoning." Who would be next? Every cough, every throat clear, sent a fresh jolt of fear through the terminal. Another rule learned: do not get sick. I survived the day on my hidden bread and crackers. The airport was even colder now, a true icebox. I found a Mylar emergency blanket in the trash, the kind hikers use. It was far better at retaining heat than my flimsy airline blanket. Day four. The number of eliminated players was climbing steadily. When I woke, I set out to retrieve my daily ration. Avoiding the main crowds, I made my way to my first hiding spot: a narrow gap behind a large planter in a deserted restroom area. I knelt and reached into the familiar crevice. Empty. There was nothing there. My heart plummeted. I searched again, frantically, but found nothing, not even a crumb. Panicked, I ran to the next location. Nothing. And the next. Nothing. All four of my remaining stashes had been cleaned out. My entire life-saving supply of crackers and bread, gone overnight. My guaranteed win had just been completely upended. To find all my spots so precisely and empty them so quietly… this wasn't the work of an ordinary player. Who was it? Who had been watching me? My morale hit rock bottom. I tried the free sample circuit again, but with more players desperate, the stores had gotten wise. All samples were gone. Even the Starbucks condiment bar was bare. The trash cans had become battlegrounds. Players were still risking food poisoning to find something, anything. By the time I checked, there wasn't even a scrap left. By 10 PM, all my meters were flashing red alerts. Desperate, I walked toward the luxury retail wing of the airport. Another player whispered as I passed, "Looks like she's done for. What's she gonna do in the designer stores?" 8. In a trash can near the luxury shops, I found what I was looking for: several discarded shopping bags and empty boxes from high-end brands. Passengers often ditched the packaging before their flights to avoid import taxes. I carefully placed the pristine boxes into the best-looking bag and headed down to the first-floor departure hall. During my earlier scouting, I'd noticed a 24/7 high-end restaurant there: Dragon's Hearth. I was going to scam a free place to rest and some free food. Pushing through the heavy glass doors, I was hit by a wave of warm air and the rich aroma of simmering broth. A smiling hostess hurried over. "Welcome! A table for how many?" "Two," I said, my voice raspy. I casually placed the conspicuous luxury bag on an adjacent chair. "A quiet spot, please. I'm waiting for someone." The hostess's eyes flickered to the bag, and her smile widened. "Of course, right this way!" Anyone who could afford that much luxury wasn't here to scam a free meal. She led me to a semi-private booth with plush, cushioned seating. The moment I sat down, I pulled out my phone and dialed a nonexistent number. As the fake call "connected," my voice, choked with emotion, echoed through the quiet restaurant. "I'm at Dragon's Hearth. I bought a ticket to Paris for 3 AM. If you don't show up, you will never see me again!" I slammed the phone down on the table, my eyes instantly welling with tears. The hostess quickly returned with a bowl of warm, sweet herbal soup and a small plate of fruit. "Ma'am, please calm down," she said, her voice soothing. "Have some soup. Is your boyfriend giving you trouble?" My voice was thick with emotion. "Thank you. I just can't eat, knowing he's with his perfect ex right now." "You have to eat, especially when you're upset," she said, placing the soup in front of me. "You need your strength for when he comes crawling back." I nodded and took a small sip. The warm liquid soothed my parched throat. My stomach was screaming, but I had to hold back. The hostess returned with a complimentary bowl of steamed custard. Feigning heartbreak, I went to the condiment bar and quickly scooped three large spoonfuls of savory minced beef into my custard. Back at my seat, I forced myself to eat with elegant, small bites, all while keeping a wary eye on the staff. The hostess seemed to have radar. "Ma'am, since you're feeling down, would you like to try our new tomato broth? It's sweet and sour, very appetizing!" A vibrant red bowl of soup appeared before me. "Can I get you some snacks?" A plate of free french fries followed. "Any word from your boyfriend yet?" The hostess leaned in again, her eyes full of gossip and sympathy, seemingly more invested in my drama than I was. Alarm bells went off in my head. She was checking on me too often. I immediately switched gears. Tears filled my eyes again, my voice trembling with despair. "Is he really not coming? I never really planned to leave…" I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking. "Oh, don't cry, don't cry!" The hostess panicked, rushing back with a giant, fluffy teddy bear. "Let him keep you company! You're so beautiful, your boyfriend will definitely regret this!" Hugging the soft bear, the exhaustion was overwhelming. My Stamina was critical. I had to rest. I secretly set a vibrating alarm for 2 AM, then, looking completely emotionally drained, I curled up on the soft sofa and closed my eyes. As I drifted off, I prayed they wouldn't kick me out. I don't know how long I slept, but the hostess gently woke me. "Miss, isn't your flight about to depart?" Right on cue, my phone began to vibrate violently. My alarm. In a flash, I grabbed the phone and, without looking, screamed into it with my pre-planned lines. "I waited for you for four hours! Are you still not coming? Is she really that important? I'm leaving! I'm really leaving this time! Can't you just come and see me one last time?" I ended the call and buried my face in the teddy bear, making it look like I was sobbing. The manager, who had been approaching, stopped, shook his head, and walked away. The hostess kindly brought me a blanket. I slept on that plush sofa all night. The next morning, as I was about to leave, the hostess brought me a complimentary breakfast of soy milk, congee, and a tea-infused egg. "You go, girl!" she said with an encouraging smile. "You'll find someone better! This is a new beginning for you!" Since I hadn't ordered anything, I didn't pay. I thanked her quietly and walked out the glass doors. My Stamina and Hunger meters were completely full. It was a shameless tactic, and one I could only use once. I had just played my trump card. 9. Day five. I ran into Cole and his group right outside the restaurant. His team had swelled to over twenty people. They were in the middle of distributing crackers. When I saw the packaging, my mind went blank with rage. Those were my crackers. I had torn a tiny corner off each bag as a marker. I stormed over. "Cole! You stole my crackers!" He just smiled and offered me one. "Don't be mad. I told you, you should have joined us." "Give them back." "Take a look around," he said, gesturing to his followers. "Do they look like they want to give them back?" Twenty pairs of greedy eyes stared back at me. I snatched the cracker he offered and took a step back. "Can I join you now?" "Too late, Ava," he said with that same disarming smile. "This was never a solo game. The only way to survive is to team up and take resources from other players. You have no money and no food. You have nothing of value to us." At that moment, a new system directive came through: [Welcome to Day 5. To increase the entertainment value, all public water fountains will now be shut off. Water from restrooms is contaminated and not safe for consumption.] The public channel exploded with rage. "Entertainment value? Screw you!" "No water? For three more days?! They're trying to kill us!" Cole's team started to get agitated, the fear of dehydration eclipsing their momentary joy over the food. But Cole remained calm, raising a hand to quiet them. "What's the panic? It's just water." He shot a sideways glance at me. "The other players still have water. We just have to take it." My stomach dropped. Before I could run, twenty pairs of bloodshot eyes locked onto me. The mob descended like hyenas smelling blood. "Let go! It's mine!" I clutched my backpack, but I was hopelessly outnumbered. The strap was ripped from my shoulder, the zipper torn open. My two full water bottles were wrenched from my grasp. The few sugar packets I had left scattered on the floor and were instantly snatched up. I was shoved to the ground. Cole's voice was ice-cold. "Be grateful we're letting you live. Now get lost." I scrambled to my feet and ran. Not from Cole, but for water. I had to get there before anyone else figured it out—the liquid disposal area. TSA regulations meant passengers couldn't bring liquids over 100ml through security. At the checkpoint, they had to discard their water bottles, sodas, and juices in special large bins. I sprinted to the domestic departures security checkpoint. There they were: three massive, transparent disposal bins, each half as tall as me. They were overflowing with half-full and even unopened bottles of water, sports drinks, sodas, teas, and juices. Two TSA agent NPCs stood nearby. Simply rummaging through the bins was out of the question; it would trigger the security alarm. I couldn't wait any longer. I pasted an expression of sheer panic on my face and rushed toward the checkpoint, heading straight for the bins. "Excuse me, coming through!" I yelled, my voice cracking, pushing past the people in line and successfully getting the agents' attention. "Ma'am, you need to get in line!" a middle-aged agent said, blocking my path. "I'm so sorry, sir!" I said, speaking a mile a minute, my voice filled with genuine-sounding panic as I pointed at the bins. "I think my ring fell in there! It was my grandmother's! Please, let me just look for it! It'll only take a second, I promise!" Tears welled up in my eyes on command. The agent hesitated, then stepped aside. "Be quick about it! Don't hold up the line!" "Thank you, sir! Thank you!" I practically dove for the bins. "So I don't make a mess, I'll just take these bags over here to sort through," I said, hoisting the three giant plastic liners out of the bins and dragging them to a spot just out of the agents' line of sight. Jackpot. This was more than enough water to last three days. I quickly emptied one bag and filled it with all the unopened bottles, then scurried away from the security area, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn't stop until I found a secluded accessible restroom and locked the door. No one could know I had this much water. I stood on the toilet, pushed up a ceiling tile, and stashed half my supply in the crawlspace. I hid the rest in several other nooks and crannies around the terminal before repeating the entire process at the international departures checkpoint. It wasn't greed. I had a much bigger plan.
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