The scene shifted to the dimly lit chamber of Darian Wolfe.
The structure was the same—one half of the room belonged to him, the other to his unseen opponent. A metallic wall split them, cold and unmoving. In the middle of the wall, a square hole allowed for words to pass—truths, lies, or weapons veiled in sound. Each chamber had its set of glowing cards arranged neatly on the desk, pulsating faintly with light, waiting to be read.
Darian leaned back on his chair, his fingers tracing the edge of one card. His eyes, sharp as razors, flicked over the contents in silence. A small grin crept on his lips as he muttered, "A street-level criminal, huh? Desperate for money… all for your little sister."
He stood up, placed the card on the desk deliberately, and leaned toward the talking square.
"So listen carefully," Darian said, his tone cold, calculated. "If I die here… your sister dies too. And my gang members are already told that if I die then you will be targetted for the whole game and if If my gang members find a way to interact with the world out of this game then they will be able to kill your sister if they find information about her"
The silence from the other side was immediate—and deafening. The air turned heavy, as if the very walls were absorbing the weight of the threat. Darian didn't care for emotional warfare; for him, it was survival of the most vicious.
He cracked his knuckles and sat back down. "Tick tock ,tick tock ,tick tock ,tick tock" he said.
Meanwhile, the schene flickered and transitioned into another chamber.
This time, it was the quiet, colder room of Gyumin Rakchan.
His expression was serious, brows furrowed as he turned over each card, reading in complete silence. His opponent? A retired military officer with a scar across his jaw and eyes that held the weariness of battles—both on the field and in the courtroom.
Gyumin read the card aloud in a low voice, "...Framed by a superior officer for demanding extra pay during border assignments. Discharged. Declared a criminal to protect military honor. No real crimes."
He stared at the words for a long moment, lips pressing together.
The man on the other side, his voice rough but calm, spoke:"I won't waste your time. I've made peace with my past. My daughter's in university now. She's safe—at least I hope so. But you…" He paused. "You've still got something to fight for."
Gyumin's hands slightly trembled as he flipped his own file. His heart stung when he read the description about his own background.
"Mother executed while attempting illegal escape from Kimaru Jong Han regime.Father status: unknown.Subject entered the game along with Areumseo Jihyeon (partner/girlfriend) due to state betrayal charges from maternal line."
He inhaled deeply.
Areumseo's smiling face flashed in his mind. He remembered her words, whispered one night on the rooftop:
"Even if the world calls us criminals, we know the truth. And if we survive… we'll write our own story."
His opponent spoke again, voice softer now. "This isn't just about winning. If you survive the entire game, kid… you might still have a chance to live a peaceful life with her. Don't waste it."
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence between them.
A silence filled with unspoken understanding, the kind that only two men stripped bare by the world could share. One nearing the end of his road. One still standing at a crossroad, holding a future fragile as glass.
Gyumin clenched his fists. And for the first time, he whispered—not to his opponent, not to the camera, but to himself:
"I'll survive. Not for revenge. Not for the past. But for her."
The screen dimmed.
And the chapter closed.