Three hours.
That was all he had.
Three hours until the next round.
Three hours until he would sit at a table with players ranked above him.
Ren stood in the middle of his room for a few seconds after the screen went black.
Silence.
Then—
"Okay."
He clapped his hands once.
"No panic. No overthinking."
He walked toward the bathroom.
Toothbrush.
He stared at his reflection while brushing.
"You're not F anymore."
Foam gathered at the corner of his lips.
"You're E+. That's progress."
He spat, rinsed, splashed more water on his face.
His reflection looked sharper today.
More awake.
More dangerous.
He stepped into the shower.
Steam wrapped around him instantly.
Hot water ran down his shoulders.
Tetsuya Kurogane — B+.
Kaito Murakumo — C.
Aiko Tanaka — D+.
Shura Daigo — D.
Mika Fujisawa — E+.
Kenshin Oda — E+.
Itsuki Saionji — C.
And him.
E+.
He exhaled slowly.
"That B+ is the problem."
He stepped out, towel around his waist, droplets sliding down his torso.
He started drying his hair aggressively.
"Hey, Uwu."
"Yes, Ren Takahashi."
"Play something."
"What would you like?"
Ren smirked.
"Michael Jackson."
A short pause.
"Playing 'Billie Jean.'"
The bassline filled the room.
Ren froze for half a second.
Then his shoulders moved.
Then his head.
Then—
"Oh, this is it."
He slid across the polished floor in his socks, nearly slipping but catching himself.
He pointed at the mirror.
"Billie Jean is not my lover!"
He attempted a spin.
It wasn't smooth.
It was chaotic.
He tried a moonwalk.
It looked like a man dragging invisible furniture.
He snapped his fingers.
Hair half dry, towel barely secured.
He jumped onto the bed, landed badly, laughed at himself.
"Okay okay, enough."
Music kept playing as he walked to the wardrobe.
He opened it.
His old clothes hung there.
Simple.
Student.
Ordinary.
He stared at them.
"No."
He closed the wardrobe slowly.
"I'm not showing up like that."
He turned.
"Uwu."
"Yes."
"Call the butler. I need a suit."
"What style?"
"Sharp. Dark. Something that says I belong here."
"Understood."
Knock knock.
The butler arrived with precision.
He handed over the garment bag without a word.
Ren waited until the door closed.
Then unzipped it.
Black suit.
Red shirt.
Crisp.
Tailored.
He slipped it on carefully.
Buttoned the cuffs.
Adjusted the collar.
Ran his hand through his hair.
He stood in front of the mirror.
Silence.
"…Damn. I look cool."
He turned slightly sideways.
Checked the shoulders.
Checked the fit around his waist.
"Bro."
He smirked at himself.
"I look dangerous."
Confidence rose naturally.
He rolled his shoulders once.
"Yeah. This is better."
Knock knock.
The guards.
Right on time.
They escorted him through the corridor in silence.
His shoes echoed softly against the polished floor.
He kept his head high.
Same building.
But the atmosphere felt heavier.
More serious.
The doors opened.
The large hall from yesterday.
But expanded.
And in the center—
Only one table.
Spotlight.
Isolated.
Seven figures already seated.
Ren was the last to arrive.
All eyes turned.
He stepped forward calmly.
The guards moved aside.
The first gaze that locked onto him belonged to Mika Fujisawa.
Red hair flowing over one shoulder.
White blouse stretched tight over a chest so full it looked like the buttons were fighting for survival. The fabric curved around her breasts in a way that made it impossible not to notice. Long legs crossed slowly, deliberately. U could imagine the size of her ass. H U G E.
Her eyes dragged over him from head to toe.
"Oh?"
Her lips curved.
"Well look at that."
She leaned slightly forward.
"Dressed up and everything."
Her tone was playful.
But she looked down on him.
Like a queen inspecting something new.
Ren felt heat rise in his face despite the suit.
"Thanks."
Mika's gaze lingered on his pants.
"I wonder if you're good at other things too."
She laughed.
Not kindly.
More like she had already judged him.
Ren looked away.
Same rank.
E+.
She probably eats guys like me for breakfast.
Across from her—
Kenshin Oda adjusted his glasses nervously.
Thin frame.
Messy hair.
A few pimples on his cheek.
He stared at Ren's suit.
"…That's cool," he muttered for himself.
Kenshin looked down immediately.
Embarrassed.
He pushed his glasses up again.
Ren remembered the note.
Math.
Yeah. That fits.
To the side—
Shura Daigo leaned back casually.
Medium-length dark hair slicked back.
Rock-style ring on his finger.
Casual clothes, but deliberate.
"Finally," Shura said. "We were starting to think you chickened out."
Ren smirked faintly.
"Not my style."
Shura shrugged.
"Good."
He didn't look overly threatening.
But he looked steady.
Comfortable.
Then—
Aiko Tanaka stood up.
Pink hair flowing smoothly down her back.
Elegant posture.
Her blouse was fitted but tasteful, hugging her curves without being vulgar. Still, the shape of her chest was impossible to ignore — full, soft, controlled. She moved with grace.
"Welcome, Ren."
Before he could react—
She stepped closer.
Wrapped her arms around him.
Warm.
Soft.
Too close.
His brain short-circuited.
"Do we… know each other?"
She laughed gently.
From around her neck—
A small snake lifted its head.
Ren froze.
Then fell backward.
"What the hell?!"
The snake hissed lightly.
Tanaka giggled.
"Relax. This is Tan. He's been with me since I was little."
Ren scrambled up quickly, brushing dust off his suit.
Snake Princess.
Right.
"You're a princess?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Not officially."
Her smile widened.
"But I've always been treated like one."
There was something in her eyes.
She studied people.
Measured submission.
Ren swallowed.
Dangerous.
Tanaka turned his back to sit down on the chair and that was when Ren saw it. Her ass. Its shape was perfeclty round and the size was just right. Not too small, not too big.
"…Damn. It is perfect." murmured Ren
He sat down.
Across the table—
Itsuki Saionji stared at him intensely.
"What?" Ren asked.
"You let her hug you."
"…Yeah?"
Itsuki leaned forward.
"I'll kill you."
Ren blinked.
Then Itsuki exhaled.
"But relax."
He smirked.
"She wouldn't want you in bed anyway."
He turned his head toward Tanaka.
"Why don't you undo those buttons? I might unzip something too."
Tan hissed sharply.
Tanaka didn't even look at him.
Ren sighed.
"Creep."
Itsuki grinned shamelessly.
Next—
Kaito Murakumo.
Blond.
Slim.
Leaning back like nothing in this room concerned him.
An ashtray sat in front of him.
He lit another cigarette.
Smoke curled upward lazily.
He looked at Ren through half-lidded eyes.
"You're the guy who advanced because your opponent cheated, right?"
The words hit.
Ren lowered his head slightly.
"…Yeah."
Silence.
The others didn't speak.
But he felt it.
Judgment.
Tanaka spoke calmly.
"Can you not smoke here?"
Kaito exhaled smoke deliberately in her direction.
"Relax, princess."
His tone was lazy.
Detached.
He didn't seem impressed by anyone.
Then—
The air changed.
Tetsuya Kurogane.
He hadn't spoken yet.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Muscles visible even under his shirt.
Hair tied back.
Tattoo running along his arm.
He stood up abruptly.
His fist slammed into the table.
The sound echoed sharply.
"Seriously?"
He looked toward the guards.
"You put me at a table with someone who couldn't even qualify on his own?"
His eyes shifted toward Mika.
"And a whore."
Then toward Itsuki.
"And a degenerate."
The tension snapped tight.
Ren felt it in his spine.
This is him.
The Gladiator.
Tetsuya's gaze locked onto the guards like he was ready to break them in half.
For a second—
It felt like violence might erupt.
Then—
He sat back down.
"Fine."
He exhaled sharply.
"Let's end this quickly."
Ren swallowed.
"…He's insane."
Silence settled over the table.
Eight players.
Four advance.
The massive screen above flickered on.
The robotic voice echoed through the hall.
"Table 17 may begin."
Ren placed both hands on the table.
Heart steady.
Eyes sharp.
Suit perfect.
He scanned them one more time.
Mika — arrogance wrapped in curves.
Kenshin — numbers and insecurity.
Shura — steady edge.
Tanaka — elegance with venom.
Itsuki — perverted instability.
Kaito — detached predator.
Tetsuya — raw power.
And me.
E+.
He inhaled slowly.
Let's see if I belong here.