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You don't remember falling asleep — only that you didn't wake up anywhere familiar
The air smells like dust, cheap coffee, and old carpet. Fluorescent tubes buzz overhead in a grid that never quite lines up with the ceiling tiles. Corridors repeat: same yellow wallpaper, same empty desks, same framed prints that could be anyone's forgotten afternoon.
Your memory of before is a smear — traffic, a door, maybe a voice — then nothing. What remains is sharper: the feeling of being watched from the corners of polished glass, and the certainty that if you stay still long enough, the building will notice.
Somewhere in this maze there has to be an exit. You have no proof — only the dread that if you wait, the corridors will learn your name, and that whatever happens next starts when you finally stop being a guest.
The level runs behind this panel — press Start to play