He walked forward without hesitation.
Not because he wasn't afraid. But because he couldn't afford to be.
Eyes followed him, wide and confused. The Peacekeepers at the stage shifted uneasily as he stepped up beside the girl who'd been called first—her hands shaking like leaves, her mouth caught halfway between sobbing and screaming. Goo's hands were still. Calm. Cold.
He heard whispers ripple through the crowd.
"Who is that?"
"I don't know… he moved here a few months ago. With one of the farm crews."
"He doesn't look like one of us."
No, he didn't.
Not anymore.
The walk to the Justice Building was a blur of white walls and echoing footsteps. He was given ten minutes to say goodbye. But there was no one. Not really.
In this life, he was a quiet farm boy, orphaned, brought in to replace dead labor. Nobody cried for him. Nobody held him.
He sat in the corner of the room and stared at the wall, arms folded, and wondered, Why me?
Not just the Reaping. Why had he ended up in this world? And why inside Goo Kim?
There was no answer. Only silence. Heavy and final.
The train was a bullet of luxury. Everything shimmered. Gold filigree. Velvet seats. Food—actual food—so abundant it felt like a prank.
The girl sat across from him, stiff and sick-looking, untouched plate in front of her.
She finally spoke.
"…You don't talk much."
Goo glanced at her. "Not much to say."
"I'm Rue." Her voice was small. But her eyes were watching him carefully now. "Aren't you scared?"
"No."
"…Liar."
He smirked at that, and finally reached for a slice of roasted meat. Goo Kim's appetite, sharp and unashamed, kicked in. He ate slowly, deliberately. A performance more than anything else.
"Are you?" he asked after a moment.
Rue didn't answer. She just looked away.
Their mentor arrived an hour later, half-drunk and already annoyed.
"Two tributes from District 11, huh?" The man tossed himself into a chair. "Name's Seeder. Don't waste my time."
Goo wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Fair enough. Then don't waste ours."
There was a pause.
Seeder blinked. Rue gasped.
"…You're cocky," Seeder muttered. "We'll see how long that lasts in the Arena."
Goo leaned back in his chair. "We'll see."
That night, when everyone else was asleep, Goo stood at the train window and stared into the dark. Lights flickered by. Panem was bigger than he imagined. Colder. More artificial.
And somewhere in that gleaming Capitol, kids were already betting on who would die first.
He closed his eyes.
In his head, he saw Daniel Park's face. Vasco's fist. Eli's cold stare.
And he smiled.
Let them bet.