Page 10 of Break Room
Keep away from children.
As before, I scratched at the surface and revealed the hidden message underneath:
Keep valuable goods away from her.
Judging by the wording alone, it seemed Coffee Mix’s greed for communal supplies went beyond mere selfishness – it hinted at kleptomania and warned others to be cautious.
I scanned the QR code on the packaging. Surprisingly, her coworkers on the audio file speculated about Coffee Mix’s psychological insecurities, just as Tumbler did. They were collectively convinced that her hoarding habit must have its roots in childhood trauma or some past incident. Unlike Tumbler, there wasn’t a shred of empathy in their voices. Instead, they spoke with a kind of cruel amusement, as though gleefully piecing together fragments of her behaviour into an exaggerated, scandalous story.
Without hesitation, I used the other hint card on Coffee Mix again. I quickly received another Swiss army knife set, but this time, the warning label had changed.
The knife is extremely sharp. Take care not to hurt yourself.
I peeled off the film and the message underneath changed to:
Her personality is extremely sharp. Take care not to hurt yourself.
The accompanying audio hint described an encounter where someone had tried to confront Coffee Mix about her supposed trauma, only to be met with stinging backlash. The confrontation mirrored what I had witnessed earlier between her and Tumbler. Frustration set in – two hint cards wasted, offering nothing new. They merely confirmed what was already apparent: that, at least, I had a fairly good sense of gauging people.
I started to question the authenticity of the audio clips. Were they genuine testimonials from Coffee Mix’s coworkers, or had the production crew fabricated any of it to create a narrative? I replayed the recordings over and over, dissecting every inflection and nuance, hoping to detect a telltale sign of a staff member’s voice or maybe the producer’s recognisable accent. I couldn’t tell anything for certain.
By Wednesday, I’d hit a complete mental block. I had exhausted all my ideas for using the existing items in the break room, and it seemed the other players were in the same boat. We all needed to push ourselves beyond our usual behaviours to find new ways to break the ‘rules’.
It quickly became clear that the production crew wouldn’t reward repeated or similar offences. I confirmed this when I stole a bite from Monologue’s leftover sandwich in the fridge, only to find no hint card waiting for me – it was too similar to my first action on day one, when I’d devoured Cake’s chocolate cake.
Later, when Coffee Mix left crumbs from her Couque D’Asse snack all over the table, I was inspired to try a new strategy of deliberately spilling juice into the sink. But apparently, that fell into the same category as Coffee Mix’s action of ‘making a mess’, which didn’t count.
Fortunately, as the saying goes, yesterday’s enemy is today’s ally. During this creative block, my biggest inspiration turned out to be none other than my coworkers, A and B. Thinking ofA, I microwaved a ready-to-eat mapo tofu rice dish – specifically chosen for its juicy stuffing – and let it heat for far longer than necessary until the sauce splattered everywhere. But even this didn’t earn me a hint card, probably because it still fell under the broad category of ‘making a mess’, like my previous attempts.
However, when I microwaved somecheonggukjangI’d ordered for delivery and let the pungent stench of fermented soybeans linger inside the break room by keeping the door shut, I finally received a hint card.
Imagining A and B’s reaction when they saw this on the show – and how it might give them something to think about – made me feel more exhilarated than I had since I’d arrived here. For lunch, I treated myself to hotcheonggukjangand polished off two full bowls of rice.
This time, I didn’t rush to open the hint card. Instead, I observed what was going on, deciding to wait before using this precious opportunity on someone.
That afternoon, a sudden announcement blared through the speaker system, seemingly prompted by a heated incident in the break room.
‘Verbal abuse and violent behaviour directed at specific individuals or groups are strictly prohibited.’
Someone had left the fridge door open, and someone else had retaliated by unplugging the fridge entirely. After a long day of work, eager to savour the GooGoo Cluster ice cream that I’d been saving, I opened the fridge to find a puddle of white and caramel-coloured cream. I was horrified by such cruelty.
By Thursday morning, the madness among the contestants had reached its peak. Coffee Mix stole the spotlight by washing her long hair in the break-room sink. Clumps of hair clogged the drain, leaving Monologue utterly flabbergasted. He stormed off, only to return moments later with a cleaning tool from who knows where, and launched into a full-blown tantrum.
‘Dear God, grant me the courage to endure this war . . .’ he muttered dramatically, squeezing his eyes shut as he yanked slimy clumps of hair from the drain, the tool gripped tightly in his hand.
As if on cue, Cake barged in and snatched the hot water I’d just boiled, pouring it over her instant noodles without so much as a glance in my direction.
‘I’m sorry. I had to do something. I think I’m last,’ she said hurriedly.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out Tumbler was the one who had talked her into this. He stood nearby, waiting for her, quickly separating and handing her some wooden chopsticks upon her return. His tiny fist shot into the air as if he were a cheerleader and he silently mouthed his encouragement: ‘Hwaiting!’
Had these two been sharing their hints with each other? Or was Tumbler being deceived by Cake, who’d probably exaggerated how far behind she was in the game? Either way, Tumbler seemed to hang on her every word with absolute conviction, as if he were incapable of critical thinking when it came to her. It seemed unlikely that he would have ever thought to question her.
While the rest of us continued playing the game in our own ways, Coffee Mix suddenly let out a loud burp, drawing everyone’s attention. For a brief moment, people genuinely pondered whether something as natural as that could count as breaking the rules. But the absurdity didn’t end there. Inspired by her act, Tumbler adopted a look of deep contemplation, clearly considering whether farting might count as well.
Before he could put the thought into action, I cut him off sharply. ‘Burping, farting and any other bodily functions definitely won’t count, because they are basically in the same category of what Coffee Mix has done.’ Tumbler seemed toregain his composure and nodded at me in deep gratitude.
With every passing minute potentially altering the course of the game, we all tried to spend as much time in or around the break room as possible, afraid of falling behind in this increasingly competitive environment. Staying in our rooms felt like admitting defeat or indifference. That day, we even decided to have a late lunch together, sitting in the hallway outside the break room.
