The Door to Korruption

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

Laura Kelly sat alone in the Schmoedown studio, the eerie silence a stark contrast to the usual roar of the crowd. Tonight, it was just her, her notes, and a single door at the far end of the room—a door that wasn’t usually there.

Kristian Harloff’s warning echoed in her mind: “Don’t open it, Laura. No matter what you hear.”

She knew she should heed the warning. But the thrill of breaking rules? That was pure Korruption, and she’d battled the best in Star Wars trivia. What could one door do?

A soft hum started, almost like faint John Williams music. The sounds twisted into whispers, familiar voices calling her name: Ace, Napzok, Harloff—all inviting her through. Laura’s hand hovered on the handle, fingers brushing cold metal. She twisted it open, and the door revealed an endless void filled with shadows, each one bearing the face of a competitor she’d defeated. They hung, suspended in the darkness, eyes wide, mouths forming words that chilled her: “Why did you open it, Laura?”

A dark figure emerged, draped in a cloak as black as space, extending a skeletal hand with a battered Schmoedown belt, glinting in an unseen light. The figure spoke with her own voice, hollow and echoing, “There’s always a price for breaking the rules.”

Before Laura could react, shadows wrapped around her, pulling her into the void. She felt herself falling, lost in the cold blackness, surrounded by the echoes of her own victories.

The door slammed shut behind her, the room empty and silent, waiting for the next competitor to break the rule.