Tomoya wakes up in a pristine white room with no memory of how he arrived. The walls are featureless. The door won't open. As hours blur into days, he begins to question whether he's trapped in a physical space or something far stranger. His mind fractures under the weight of isolation, spawning conversations with versions of himself that may or may not be real. Each interaction peels back another layer of his sanity, revealing uncomfortable truths about identity, consciousness, and what it means to be alone with your own thoughts. The film operates as a descent into psychological dissolution. What starts as a mystery becomes an interrogation of the self, where the greatest threat isn't the locked room but the person locked inside it. Viewers who appreciate experimental cinema and don't need plot resolution will find something deeply unsettling here. This is anxiety made visual, a portrait of a mind eating itself, rendered with the precision and vision of a student film that refuses to compromise its vision for comfort or clarity.