Apophenia

You open your eyes. The yellow light of a buzzing lamp floods the room with a wet carpet that squelches underfoot. Around you are endless walls covered in small floral wallpaper. You don't remember how you got here. In your pocket is a crumpled note in a language you think you know, but the words blur. Somewhere in the distance, a heavy, wet footstep is heard. It is approaching.

Loneliness and Black's voice — the only companion

Endless liminal spaces: yellow rooms with buzzing lamps and wet carpet, pools with dark still water, supermarkets with fake products, corridors leading to more corridors. The space breathes and changes: cracks crawl on the walls, doors disappear, sounds of footsteps approach and recede. There is no logic here — only repetition with distortions. The world is indifferent, but it is inhabited by monsters: shadows that creep in corners, faceless creatures reaching hands from the darkness, and voices whispering in dead languages.

Survive and understand what is happening, but every answer leads to a new question