[ Kei stirred awake with a dull, pulsing pain at the side of her head. The cold air bit at her skin as she blinked slowly, the dim light of the unfamiliar ceiling above her swimming into focus. There was a heaviness in her limbs, not just from the headache—but from the suffocating weight of confusion.
Her vision cleared just enough to see the first figure standing by her side.
"Enji...?" she murmured, barely audible.
For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. But the concern in Enji Inoue's eyes was real—too real.
"You're not dreaming," he said softly, crouching down beside her. "Welcome back to reality. Well... something like it."
She pushed herself up, wincing as the blood throbbed at her temples. Her surroundings were foreign, harsh. Cold stone walls, no heater, no warmth. Nothing like the world she knew.
Enji wasted no time filling her in—his tone unusually serious, though he couldn't help his typical flair for dramatic delivery. "Everyone's freaking out, naturally. We woke up here, in the middle of nowhere, in a crumbling palace that looks like it's one harsh winter away from collapse. And guess what? There is no one even here. They sent an robot called Ludo."
Kei's expression didn't change, but her thoughts were racing. She wasn't used to chaos—not this kind. Around them, the others were already spiraling.
Kenzo was yelling at Takahashi, Mio and Ema were screaming at Yoko, and no one was listening to anyone. It was loud, messy, and senseless.
She exhaled slowly and stood, brushing off the dust from her clothes. Calmly, she reached for Enji's hand without a word and led him toward the massive wooden doors.
They stepped outside into the freezing air. Winter wind cut across their faces, cruel and sharp. Kei barely flinched.
"I figured you might need this," Enji said, pulling two scarves from under his coat. He held one out—soft, red wool, slightly worn but warm.
Kei took it silently and wrapped it around her neck. The two walked slowly, their breath fogging in the air between them. Snow crunched underfoot, and silence stretched comfortably for a few moments.
Then Kei stopped.
"I wish Inaya were here," she said quietly. Her eyes remained ahead, fixed on the snowy path. "This kind of situation... she'd handle it better than I ever could."
Enji's smile was faint, as he looked back toward the cold silhouette of the broken palace. "Shin too," he said. "He always sees things we don't. If those two were here, we'd already be planning something by now."
Kei turned to him, her voice steady. "But they're not here. And thinking about what they would do won't help us. We need to solve this ourselves. Quietly. Efficiently."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and began walking back.
Enji looked at her for a moment, then smiled, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck.
"Classic Kei," he muttered, and followed her back toward the ruins of their unexpected battlefield—ready to stand beside her, chaos and all. ]
"We didn't have time to rest between games," Kei said plainly, her tone calm and measured. "Each day, one after another. The winter made it worse—cold enough to affect performance. A few of us got sick. Our hands were numb, coordination was difficult. But we kept going."
She folded her arms, eyes steady.
"We used the little time we had to plan. Each night, we discussed strategies. What we'd face, who was best suited for what, how to reduce risk. We were methodical. Efficient. There wasn't room for mistakes."
"Fortunately, the games seemed to align with our group's strengths. That helped. No one died. Not because it was easy, but because we were prepared."
She looked at me directly. "I don't know if it was luck or design. But we handled it. That's what mattered."
"Just in case you're about to ask what kind of games we played," Kenzo chimed in from his seat, tossing a stress ball up in the air lazily, "they won't sound all that terrifying. But trust me, they were brutal."
Before anyone could respond, Cel clapped once, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, if you're all done reminiscing and catching up," she said, her tone light but commanding, "I've got something important to share."
The room quieted.
"You're all here because you won the previous game. You received your reward—money and a place to live, right?" She smiled faintly. "But if you think this is the end of the line... you're wrong."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"There are two choices. One—keep moving forward until you reach home. Yes, I mean Earth. It's possible. At least, according to the rules."
"And the second?" I asked cautiously.
Cel opened her mouth to continue, but Kei interrupted smoothly, arms crossed. "Let me guess. Sit back, do nothing, and enjoy the luxury we've earned?"
Cel's grin widened. "Well, well… it seems you understood the assignment."
"So, what's the cost of moving forward?" Enji asked, leaning forward with a grin of his own, one brow raised.
Cel turned to him. "Since each group earned 25 Perso from the last game, together you have 50. If you want to proceed—leave this dimension—you'll need to earn another 50. That makes 100 Perso total."
"And we earn that... how?" Satoru asked.
"Simple," Cel said with a glint in her eye. "You play more games."
Enji scoffed, casually slouching in his seat. "Let me get this straight. You said no one's ever made it out since you started this job… and now you're offering us the golden ticket?"
Cel's smile never wavered. "No one made it out because they died playing. That doesn't mean you will. You've got talent. Look around—your team is stacked. What's the matter? Getting cold feet already?"
Enji smirked. "Cold feet? Please. I just like knowing how rigged the game is before I agree to cheat at it."
Cel laughed. "Good. I love a confident"
I just watched them in silence, heart thudding.
Because deep down, I knew—this was only the beginning.
After all the discussions had wrapped up, it was decided—we would move forward. There was a strange silence that followed, like the calm after agreeing to walk into a storm. Some of us left the room, scattering to our own spaces.
I found myself wandering, searching.
Inaya was nowhere in sight. I had been meaning to talk to her—about what we saw in the market. About the guards, the pain, the silence we both swallowed. I needed to say it out loud, even if it changed nothing.
I stepped outside, and that's when I saw her. She stood near the gate, speaking quietly with Cel. Their voices didn't reach me, but the seriousness in Inaya's eyes was enough. I didn't move. I simply watched.
After a moment, Cel disappeared—her departure as smooth and strange as always, a shimmer, a sound, gone. Inaya turned and began walking toward the garden alone.
I ran.
"Inaya!" I called out, breath catching. She didn't hear me—or maybe she did and just didn't stop. I caught up to her and gently grabbed her wrist.
"Did you tell Cel about the market?" I asked.
She blinked, as if pulling herself back to the present. "Ah... the market," she echoed, like it had slipped her mind completely.
"You didn't?" My voice was barely louder than a whisper.
She looked at me with a calm expression. "Celestina said she'd send Sergio to you."
I nodded. "Okay. Then let's go to Sergio together. I want to be part of whatever he's doing. You should come too—it's boring here anyway."
Inaya gave a soft smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, Shin… I wish I could. But Celestina assigned me something else to handle. It's important. How about you go with Kei? She was planning to head to the mainland anyway. It would be better that way."
My heart faltered. "Oh… is that so?"
She didn't answer that. Maybe because she didn't need to. Or maybe because she didn't want to.
"I'm sorry, Shin. Maybe next time, okay?"
She gave my hand a gentle pat, then turned and continued her way into the garden, leaving me by the path—watching her fade into the green.
And just like that, the excitement I had built in my chest… quietly dissolved.
But it was alright—I still had Sergio by my side. I hurried toward him and found him speaking with Kei, a rare smile gracing his usually serious face. I had never seen him this way with anyone except Celestina and me. What had happened between them? Are they close now? How?
As I approached, Sergio's eyes met mine, as if he'd been expecting me all along.
"You've come," he said calmly.
"It seems you know why," I replied.
"Yes. Kei will accompany us," he declared. "Kei!"
"Yes," she answered promptly.
"Go pack your belongings. Meanwhile, Shin and I have matters to discuss. Are you ready to depart, or is there more to prepare?"
"Yes," Kei and I said in unison.
Once Kei had left, Sergio turned to me with a steady gaze.
"Do you know what a remarkable soldier Kei is? She possesses rare potential. I intend to train both of you—together—from this point forward," he announced with quiet authority.
I frowned, curiosity mingling with a strange pang of jealousy. "How did you two become so close?" I asked, struggling to hide my confusion and concern.
"She confided in me her journey," Sergio replied thoughtfully. "She sought passage to the mainland, and from that moment, our conversations began. I found her strength admirable—the kind that wins not by kindness but by careful calculation and loyalty. They triumphed without losing a single soul. No alliances made, no betrayals suffered. Their journey was one of trust and resolve. They are, without doubt, dependable allies."
"I understand... But why decide to train her?" I pressed on, unable to mask my uncertainty.
Sergio's eyes softened. "Because, Shin, I wish to safeguard you. To prepare someone you can rely on in the trials ahead. Few ever achieve what they truly desire in this realm, but I hold hope for you. I believe you will."
He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, his words both a comfort and a command.
Just then, Kei returned and joined us. As we stepped onto the mainland, wrapping ourselves tightly against the biting cold, Sergio's voice broke the silence.
"Let me tell you a story," he began, his tone calm but compelling. "A story of a third child—one whose fate shaped more than just a family, but an entire kingdom."
His eyes flickered with a strange light as we listened, the world around us fading into the background, pulled into the weight of his words.