Two heavy thuds echoed through the room.
Not sharp like the gunshots.
Dull.
Final.
The unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the floor.
Ren did not move.
He stood frozen beside the table.
A statue carved from something colder than stone.
Half of his face was warm.
Wet.
He did not immediately register why.
Across from him—
A tall silhouette.
Long coat.
Hat casting a shadow over his eyes.
For a brief, distorted second, the outline resembled Yoshi's profile.
But Ren's mind was too fractured to process that comparison.
The man's right arm extended downward.
From it hung a heavy piece of metal.
A revolver.
Smoke curled faintly from the barrel.
The man's gaze shifted to Ren.
Not anger.
Not satisfaction.
Disdain.
As if Ren had committed a mistake.
As if Ren had inconvenienced him.
The poker table was ruined.
Blood splattered across the felt.
Cards scattered in chaotic disarray.
Chips rolled lazily until they hit the edges of the stage.
Two bodies lay motionless.
Hiroki.
And Reiji.
The mime.
The neutral dealer.
The "impartial" presence at the center of the game.
Ren's pupils trembled.
His thoughts returned slowly, like fragments surfacing from deep water.
What just happened?
What the hell is this place?
His heartbeat was loud in his ears now.
The silence felt mechanical.
Designed.
They were killed.
The realization settled.
Not dramatically.
Not explosively.
Just as a fact.
But why?
His earlier suspicion resurfaced.
Something was rotten.
He had felt it.
The hesitation.
The microscopic adjustment.
The impossible river.
Was I right?
But to kill them for that?
His gaze shifted toward Reiji's body.
The mime who wasn't a mime.
How had he infiltrated a place like this?
This wasn't some underground bar game.
Security here was absolute.
No one "slipped in."
That meant—
He hadn't infiltrated.
He had been placed.
Ren's mind accelerated.
Questions collided violently.
The large screen above the hall flickered to life again.
Cold white light flooded the room.
The same mechanical voice echoed from hidden speakers.
"Unauthorized manipulation of game integrity detected."
The words were displayed in sterile font across the massive screen.
Ren felt a sharp sting in his chest.
There it was.
Confirmation.
He had been right.
His suspicion had not been paranoia.
But still—
He stared at the bodies.
Couldn't they just disqualify them?
Was death necessary?
The man with the revolver stepped forward slightly.
He spoke calmly.
"You were lucky, kid."
Ren looked at him.
But he didn't answer.
He didn't know what answer existed.
Lucky?
Is that what this was?
Luck?
The man's expression remained flat.
Professional.
Unemotional.
Then—
Something touched Ren's leg.
Soft.
Weak.
He flinched and looked down.
Hiroki.
His eyes were half-open.
Clouded.
Blood pooled beneath him.
His fingers trembled as they lightly gripped Ren's pant leg.
"Reiji…" Hiroki coughed.
Blood escaped his lips.
"I just… wanted a better life…"
His voice faded.
His grip loosened.
His eyes remained slightly open—
But empty.
Ren swallowed.
Reiji?
His gaze moved toward the fallen dealer.
So that was his name.
Reiji.
Not a mime.
Not neutral.
A participant.
A conspirator.
Dead instantly.
Ren's throat tightened.
He had no response.
No words.
No judgment.
The doors of the hall opened smoothly.
Several guards entered first.
Armed.
Disciplined.
Behind them, medical personnel.
Efficient.
Silent.
They moved as if this had happened before.
One guard stepped over the blood without hesitation.
Another began collecting the scattered chips.
The assistants lifted Hiroki's body with careful precision.
Not reverence.
Procedure.
Reiji followed moments later.
No one spoke.
No one panicked.
No one reacted emotionally.
It was routine.
Ren's breathing became shallow.
This is organized.
This isn't chaos.
This is structure.
The man with the revolver holstered his weapon.
He looked at Ren again.
"Let's go."
Ren didn't respond.
Didn't move.
The man sighed almost imperceptibly and tossed something toward him.
Ren caught it instinctively.
A token.
Black.
Unlike the previous one.
He stared at it.
Wait…
I lost.
Technically.
Hiroki had won the hand.
The Ace.
Ren's mind replayed the final seconds.
But the manipulation…
The screen flickered again.
"Ren Takahashi advances."
The message was clear.
Final.
Non-negotiable.
Ren's chest tightened.
He hadn't won.
The system had.
The man reached into his coat and tossed another object.
A key.
"Room 72," he said. "Get some rest. The real game starts tomorrow."
The tone wasn't threatening.
It was factual.
Ren stared at the key in his palm.
Metal.
Cold.
Real.
He looked once more at the table.
At the dark stains.
At the empty spaces where two players had existed minutes ago.
"I lost," Ren muttered quietly.
The man tilted his head slightly.
"You survived."
Ren said nothing.
He turned.
His legs felt light.
Detached from his body.
He walked as if carried by invisible currents.
The corridor outside was pristine.
Silent.
No trace of violence.
The doors closed behind him without sound.
—
Room 72 was identical to the others.
Minimalistic.
Clean.
Bed.
Desk.
Bathroom.
No decoration.
Ren stepped inside.
Closed the door.
Locked it.
He remained standing for several seconds.
Then he walked to the bed and sat down slowly.
The black token rested in his hand.
He stared at it.
If I had reported it earlier…
If I had reacted when I noticed the hesitation…
If I had accused them—
Would they still be alive?
Or would that have simply accelerated the inevitable?
He didn't know.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees.
The memory replayed again.
Hiroki's last words.
"I just wanted a better life."
Ren exhaled quietly.
"Don't we all…" he murmured.
The room did not answer.
The silence here felt different.
Not oppressive.
Not mechanical.
Just empty.
He lay back on the bed.
Staring at the ceiling.
He understood now.
The game was real.
The stakes were absolute.
Skill was permitted.
Even celebrated.
Flow.
Perception.
Psychological warfare.
All acceptable.
But control?
Interference?
That crossed the line.
The system tolerated brilliance.
It did not tolerate tampering.
Hiroki had forced the river.
Reiji had enabled it.
And the system had responded.
Immediately.
Without appeal.
Without mercy.
Ren closed his eyes.
He did not feel victorious.
He did not feel relieved.
He felt observed.
Measured.
Weighed.
Somewhere above him, beyond walls and ceilings and layers of architecture, the system continued running.
Monitoring.
Calculating.
Waiting.
Tomorrow, the real game would begin.
And this time—
Ren understood the rules more clearly.
Not the rules written on the surface.
The deeper ones.
The invisible ones.
You may play.
You may fight.
You may even dominate.
But you do not touch the mechanism.
He opened his eyes again.
The black token felt heavier now.
Not a prize.
A reminder.
He had not defeated Hiroki.
He had not outplayed the system.
He had simply remained within acceptable limits.
Survival was not victory.
It was permission to continue.
Ren turned his head toward the dark window.
His reflection stared back.
Half of his face still faintly stained.
He had not cleaned it.
Not yet.
He studied himself.
No fear.
No tears.
Just awareness.
The real game starts tomorrow.
He closed his eyes once more.
But sleep did not come easily.
Somewhere in the building—
The system recalibrated.
And Ren, whether he liked it or not—
Was still inside i