After a night tangled together in heated exploration — their bodies, their desires — Art and Emery barely caught any sleep. But neither regretted it. The exhaustion was a small price to pay for the stress they'd shaken loose, even if many of the neighboring cells hadn't gotten much rest thanks to the unmistakable sounds of their love-making.
Morning arrived — though time had no meaning in this place — announced only by the disembodied voice echoing from the unseen speakers.
"Players, please wake up and prepare for the day," it said, monotone and cold.
The white doors of each cell slid open with a hiss.
Art groaned as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"What time even is it...?" he thought, squinting against the sterile light. "Tch, not like we can really tell anyway..."
Next to him, Emery stirred, curled up in his jacket like a cat seeking warmth. Her hair was tousled, and even half-asleep she looked far too tempting.
Art shook her gently.
"Hey, Emery... wake up," he whispered.
As they both moved, he could already feel the glances from the other players outside their door — sharp, judgmental, muttering.
He sighed, dragging on his pants.
"Put your clothes on. I'll stand at the door to block you," he said, shielding her from the view.
Emery, still groggy but catching the urgency in his voice, nodded quickly.
"O-okay~" she stuttered, flashing him a sleepy yet playful smile as she hurried to dress.
Meanwhile, voices floated around them:
"Ugh, those two again..."
"I barely slept because of that girl moaning so damn loud..."
"Seriously, it can't have been that good... right?"
Others grumbled about hunger.
"I guess it's morning now, huh..."
"Where's the goddamn food?!"
Just then, the system spoke again:
"Before proceeding to the second game, you will now receive your first meal."
From the ceiling, pieces of hot bread began to fall, seemingly out of nowhere.
The players stared in disbelief.
"What the fuck...?"
"The floor's dirty as hell — no plates, no nothing?!"
"Tch, just eat it. We all know how this shitty game works by now..."
One by one, they scrambled for the bread. There seemed to be more than enough — at least 90 pieces for the surviving players.
Art snatched one for himself. As he tore it open, a thick, dark sauce oozed from the middle.
He hesitated, sniffed it. Then, shrugging, he took a bite.
Sweetness filled his mouth — rich, almost chocolate-like.
"Tastes... better than I expected," he thought, chewing slowly, still wary.
But in this place, even something that seemed good always came with a price.
"Hey, you should eat, Mr. Noble," Kael said with a smirk, handing a piece of bread to a young man nearby.
The man accepted it with a graceful nod. He was strikingly handsome, wearing a white suit that, despite the harsh conditions, still carried the elegance of a high-born noble. His brown hair flowed in soft waves, and there was an easy confidence in the way he moved.
"Thank you," the young man said warmly. He glanced at Kael's rugged armor and gear.
"Judging by your outfit... you're a mercenary?"
Kael grinned. "Yeah, something like that."
"Building connections with guys like him might come in handy later," Kael thought, sizing the man up.
"What's your name, by the way?" Kael asked, keeping his tone friendly.
The noble smiled — a pure, genuine smile that immediately disarmed any suspicion.
"Aether," he said confidently.
Kael chuckled. "A beautiful name."
"Thank you," Aether replied, his voice full of simple pride. "I actually have a sister — a twin, in fact. Her name's Heather. She's even more beautiful."
As he spoke, a fondness softened his features, and for a moment, it was easy to forget the brutal world they were trapped in.
Aether took a bite of the bread, chewing thoughtfully before his eyes lit up.
"This... is the kind of bread usually served to the lower classes," he said, astonished. "I didn't expect it to taste this good!"
"Really? I wouldn't know," Kael replied casually. "I mostly just eat meat when I can get it."
"I see." Aether nodded, then bowed his head slightly. "Thank you again, mister."
Kael chuckled under his breath.
"This Aether guy... seems genuine. Could be useful later."
The two ate in silence for a moment, surrounded by the uneasy murmuring of the other players — all waiting for whatever cruel twist the next 'game' would bring.
Raphael casually sat down beside Ivana, who was sitting nervously next to Kret. Flashing an easygoing smile, Raphael waved his hand behind his head.
"Hey, beautiful," he greeted warmly.
Ivana jumped slightly at the attention. "O-oh, hi," she stuttered, her cheeks flushing lightly.
Raphael chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands as he glanced around the bleak room. "What do you think of this place?"
Ivana fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I-it's... quite scary," she admitted, glancing at the cold walls around them. "Especially that v-voice... forcing us to do all these things..."
"I see," Raphael nodded thoughtfully. He looked back at her with a spark of energy in his tone.
"But hey, I believe we're gonna be freed someday. Don't you want that? To be free?"
"Of-of course... I want to be free..." Ivana stammered, clutching her knees a little closer to her chest.
"Then," Raphael said with a grin, "you shouldn't wish to go back to the world you came from. What's ahead of us might be even better."
Ivana blinked at him, wide-eyed, as if trying to process his words. After a brief pause, she nodded.
"O-okay... I won't."
"Hehe, that's the spirit!" Raphael laughed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. His grin grew even wider.
"Let's do our best from now on, together!"
Ivana smiled shyly in return, feeling a little more at ease despite the dreadful situation around them.