"Fine…"
The word barely left Jaya's mouth. His voice cracked as tears spilled freely down his cheeks. His trembling hands gripped the edge of the chair before he slowly rose to his feet.
"I—" he began.
But before he could finish, the heavy metallic door to his side of the room creaked open. A tall Game Agent in a black suit stepped inside without a word, holding a gun. Without hesitation, the agent pointed the muzzle directly at Jaya's forehead.
The cold steel pressed against his skin.
Jaya didn't flinch.
"I surr—"
Before the final syllable could be spoken, the world around him faded.
Flashback – Years Ago
The walls were yellowed with age, and the ceiling fan in their middle-class home made a rhythmic clicking noise as it spun. A younger Jaya, barely ten years old, sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the cracked wall.
"Why are we like this, Mom?" he asked, his voice small but full of frustration.
His mother was folding clothes nearby. Her eyes were tired, but her smile remained soft.
"Don't worry, son. When you grow up and get your own job, everything will be better. Your family will be fine."
"But what about you?" Jaya asked, his tone more fragile than before.
She paused… but didn't answer.
That silence stayed with him for years.
Flashback – The Incident
Jaya was sixteen. Same age as now.
It was night.
He and his mother walked home from a late shift at her second job. The street was dimly lit, the shadows long and twisted. They were laughing over something—something small, something fleeting.
And then, out of the darkness, a man emerged.
His eyes were wild. A bloodstained blade gleamed in his hand.
Before Jaya could even react, the man lunged.
A scream.
The knife tore through his mother's stomach.
She collapsed.
Time slowed.
Something primal overtook Jaya. With sheer instinct, he tackled the man, wrestled the knife from his hands, and with shaking fury—stabbed him.
Once.
Twice.
Seven times.
The killer collapsed, motionless.
Jaya's mother was rushed to the hospital.
The memory of the hospital corridor burned into his soul. He sat alone, soaked in blood, crying, helpless. A doctor told him she had internal injuries. That she might not survive. That they needed money—money he didn't have.
Back to the Present
Jaya stood still.
Tears streamed down his face, the same way they had that night.
And finally, he said the words:
"I surrender."
BANG!
A clean shot echoed through the room.
His body collapsed instantly, like a puppet with its strings cut.
On the other side of the wall, Vayunesh flinched slightly.
The silence afterward was absolute.
Then, a digitized voice buzzed from the painting on his wall:
"Congratulations, Vayunesh. You have won the round."