Immersion

"In 2010, on July 15th, the first scene of 'Buried'..." Rodrigo held the clapboard, standing in front of the camera. He was about to call out for the first scene to start, but before he could finish his sentence, he dropped the clapboard and shouted at the group of hired members whispering beside him, "Quiet! Do you know what quiet means? Everyone, quiet down, even your breaths! We're in the middle of the desert, at the scene of burying a life. There should be no sound here, except for Paul. There's no life here besides him. So shut up, all of you! If you still want to get paid."

Rodrigo's emotions were running high because of what he experienced that day at the funeral company. He knew firsthand what true fear and despair felt like. Yet, the mercenaries on set were still chatting, which was utterly absurd.

Some of them had jokes ready to crack, but upon hearing Rodrigo's final words, everyone fell silent. The only sound left on set was the low, almost inaudible breathing in the warehouse's still air.

Rodrigo turned and glanced at the blue box lying in the wooden crate. His anger couldn't be contained. "Back off. Everyone except Edward, take three steps back. The microphones can pick up your breathing."

The mercenaries wore expressions of mockery and disdain. Rodrigo's dramatics didn't faze them. The sound of breathing was too subtle, and even if the microphones could pick it up, mixed with the airflow, the audience wouldn't notice. Rodrigo was clearly exaggerating. Nevertheless, they exchanged glances and lazily stepped back a few paces.

After a moment, Rodrigo picked up the clapboard again. "2010, July 15th, first scene of 'Buried,' first attempt."

With those words, a crisp clap marked the start of the first scene.

Due to the unique nature of the film "Buried," Rodrigo decided to shoot it chronologically. So, there was no special selection for the first scene. It was simply the moment when Paul woke up after being kidnapped. Regardless of difficulty, everything was to be done according to the timeline.

Now, the camera was fixed on the lower abdomen of the blue box, framing a close-up shot. All lights around dimmed, the warehouse doors were shut, and even sun-blocking curtains were hung. In the stuffy, airtight space, even the light disappeared completely. The panic of the unseen crept in the silence.

Even the mercenaries who wanted to joke around fell silent.

Edward held his breath, focusing intently on the viewfinder. He didn't want his breathing to ruin the first scene. He was curious to see what tricks this guy, Renly, could pull off.

In the darkness, pitch black and unseen, there were no sounds. But if one listened closely, a steady, elongated breathing could be heard stirring the air, like someone asleep. The peaceful tranquility was almost lulling, filling the entire world with a sense of serenity.

Edward couldn't help but furrow his brows. The shoot had begun, but what was this guy doing? They were an independent crew, and film was expensive. Every second Renly delayed was wasting their precious budget. Was he really asleep? Truly asleep? Otherwise, how could his breathing be so steady? It was a joke.

"Ah." Suddenly, the breathing became erratic, as if reflexively taking a deep breath, disrupting the rhythm of sleep. Then, the breathing halted, freezing the silence of the dark. But just for a moment. Then, the breath became strained, with struggles and suppression hidden within, like an octopus slowly extending its tentacles.

The emotions slowly stirred in the stillness, not overwhelming but chilling. Like a sudden gust of cold air, goosebumps emerged, followed by shivers, prompting hands to rub skin for warmth.

Edward shivered involuntarily.

Was it a nightmare? A tormenting nightmare? Though it was just the sound of breathing changing, everything felt so real. So real that his heart began to constrict.

"Breath... breath..." The breathing intensified and elongated, but seemed hindered. In the darkness, one could almost feel the person exerting themselves, trying desperately to breathe freely, but it was difficult. Then, violent coughing began, but even the coughs felt muffled and labored, spreading struggle to every cell of the body.

When the coughing subsided, the breath became rapid, as if awakening from a nightmare, then began to survey the surroundings. The erratic breathing shifted from side to side, as if searching for something, but all actions were in vain. Nothing could be seen in the absolute darkness.

But then, the breathing became earnest, with a hint of fear, muscles tensing in struggle, yet yielding no results. The person slammed into something, emitting a muffled sound.

That one sound, accompanied by pain, stopped the struggle. Breath ceased instantly, as if choked.

Edward swallowed hard. The fear of the unknown rushed from all directions. The greatest fear of humans always comes from the unknown. In the infinite darkness, the emotions conveyed by the mere sound of breathing magnified the unknown to its limit. His palms started to sweat.

Struggle, intense struggle. But after the breathing resumed, the collision sounds mixed with chaotic and rapid breathing, bringing a despairing fear. It felt like no matter how hard one struggled, they couldn't break free, couldn't tear through the darkness. The breath now carried a hint of a metallic taste, gradually spreading.

"Help." The breathing stopped again, followed by the absence of collision sounds. Only the rustling of fabric and occasional contact with objects could be heard. The confined space and oppression began to transmit, as if trapped in a space not much larger than the body, the air becoming increasingly hot and thin, heartbeats accelerating, adrenaline flooding.

What was happening to him? What danger was he facing? Countless unknowns swarmed, almost suffocating Edward.

"Ah." The breathing became painful, with a subtle hint of a sob, but in an instant, the vulnerability disappeared, replaced by a resolute will to survive. Breathing steadied, but remained heavy, indicating a determination to remain calm, even in the face of impending death.

Amidst the sound of fabric rubbing, a spark of a match being struck sounded, though no flame could be seen. Was it the moment of calmness that allowed him to find the match? A faint hope began to sprout. If it really was a match, then it would be good. Flame was humanity's second life. After dispelling the darkness, at least he could assess his situation and think of a way to save himself.

"Ack!" The sound of the match striking grew louder, yet no flame appeared. "Ah!" A stifled cry for help thudded as if even screaming was impossible. The suppressed desperation seemed to contain explosive anger, yet it was forcefully suppressed.

Emotions surged through the darkness, and Adriana felt like she couldn't breathe. The impending sense of suffocation gripped her throat. Before she could react, tears filled her eyes. She didn't even know what this warmth represented—sympathy? Fear? Panic? Or something else? She bit her lip hard, preventing herself from screaming, but her desperate hands clutched her ankles, almost making her scream.

"Ah!" The breathing grew heavier, louder, resembling a mute person's muffled shout, instilling a sense of fear. "Ack!" The sound of the match striking again, but still, no visible flame. "Ah!" A flicker of deep yellow light appeared, the darkness receded like a tide, but still lingered, encircling the faint flame, watching intently.

Under the flame's glow, a quarter of a face was visible, one eye, deep brown and frantic, scanning the surroundings. Fear, confusion, pain, panic, and anxiety intertwined in the eyes, accompanied by rapid and hot breaths.

Suddenly, the breathing stopped, pupils dilated as if witnessing despair blooming like fireworks. The whole world collapsed, time froze—under the illumination of the flame, was a closed wooden coffin. Hope had just been kindled, only to be extinguished.