The crimson letters pulsed on the wall:
> GAME TWO: THE BALANCE BOARD
A test of sacrifice and survival.
The four of them stood frozen, staring. The words burned into their eyes like fire, each pulse of light accompanied by the ticking of the countdown above. 09:58… 09:57…
A groan echoed from beneath their feet. The floor split into segments, metal creaking as something rose from the shadows. A platform — massive, circular, and suspended over a black abyss by a single, thin axis at its center. Chains rattled, hooks screeched, and finally the platform locked into place with a shuddering clang.
A narrow bridge extended from the ground to the platform. At the far end, four glowing spots marked positions.
Aya gripped Arata's arm so tightly her nails dug into his skin. "W-We have to stand on that?"
Haruto adjusted his glasses, though his hands trembled. "The name says it all. Balance Board. It'll test our coordination. If one of us messes up…" His voice faltered as his eyes fell to the abyss below. "…We fall."
Riku snarled, his voice hoarse from sleeplessness and grief. "This is bullshit. They're trying to make us kill each other again."
The distorted voice returned, smooth and merciless.
> "Four lives. Four spots. The Balance Board awaits. Weights will be added randomly. Survive until the timer reaches zero. However…"
The voice stretched the pause cruelly.
> "…Should the tilt exceed thirty degrees, the lowest side will drop, and death will claim its victim. There is one path to save the group — the Sacrifice Button. Each corner has one. Pressing it ends your life instantly, but freezes the platform. Three survive. One dies a hero. Choose wisely."
The platform groaned again. The abyss yawned wider. The timer continued: 08:32… 08:31…
Aya whimpered, burying her face against Arata's shoulder. Riku slammed his fist against the wall. Haruto simply stared at the platform, lips pressed in a thin line.
Arata's hands shook — visibly, pathetically — but inside, his thoughts were razor sharp.
Perfect. They'll panic. Panic breeds mistakes. Mistakes I can shape.
They stepped onto the platform one by one. The metal groaned under their weight. Immediately, it tilted to the left, forcing them to stumble.
"Stay calm!" Haruto barked, clutching his glasses. "Spread out evenly. Think logically."
They obeyed, spreading across the glowing spots. Slowly, the board stabilized. The abyss beneath them swirled with fog, the depth unending.
The countdown continued: 07:59… 07:58…
Then came the first weight. With a hiss, a massive iron block dropped from above, slamming onto the board's north side. The board tilted violently, sending Aya shrieking as she stumbled toward the edge.
"Aya!" Arata lunged, grabbing her hand before she slid off. Her body pressed against his, trembling. He pulled her upright, his voice a quivering whisper. "I-I won't let go! Don't worry, Aya!"
She clung to him, tears streaking her face. "Th-Thank you… Arata…"
Riku cursed, scrambling toward the south side to counterbalance. "Move, damn it! Move before we all die!"
They shifted, bodies shaking, until the board steadied again. But sweat poured down their faces, and the timer still mocked them: 07:23… 07:22…
Minutes stretched like hours. Weights continued to fall, randomly, cruelly. Each time, the board tilted, and each time they scrambled like desperate rats to survive.
But the cracks were forming.
Riku was the first to snap. "This isn't balance! This is a death sentence! One of us has to die or we're all screwed!"
Aya shook her head violently, clinging to Arata. "No! Don't say that! We can survive together!"
Riku's eyes burned with madness. He jabbed a finger at Arata. "You! Always you! You keep slipping, you keep dragging her around! You'll get us all killed!"
Arata flinched, eyes wide, lips trembling. "I-I'm trying my best! I don't want anyone to die!"
Aya shoved herself between them, shielding Arata. "Stop it! Stop blaming him! He saved me!"
Riku's laugh was hollow. "Saved you? Or tied you to him so you'd defend him every time? Think, Aya! Daichi's dead because of him!"
Her eyes widened, her voice breaking. "No… that's not true…"
Haruto's voice cut through, low and sharp. "…He's not entirely wrong."
The words pierced the silence. Haruto adjusted his glasses, his gaze narrowing on Arata. "You did predict too much. You're too calm, too observant. It doesn't add up."
Aya turned to him, horrified. "Haruto, not you too!"
Arata's head lowered, his hair falling into his eyes. His voice cracked with fear. "I-I just guessed… please… I'm scared too…"
Inside, though, his thoughts were colder than steel.
Yes. Doubt me. Fear me. The more they look at me, the more Aya will cling. And the more they fight each other.
The board tilted again. Another weight slammed down. Aya shrieked, falling into his arms once more.
Arata smiled where no one could see.
03:12… 03:11…
Their bodies shook from exhaustion. Every tilt sent one of them stumbling dangerously close to the edge. The abyss whispered promises of silence.
Riku's madness deepened. Sweat poured down his face as he eyed the Sacrifice Button. "One press. One life. That's it. This ends. I should do it. I should end this nightmare!"
Aya screamed. "Don't you dare!"
Haruto's voice was sharp. "Think. If you press it, you die for nothing. The game masters want desperation. Don't give it to them."
But Riku's hand twitched closer. His eyes darted between the button… and Arata.
"…Or maybe we throw him over."
Aya froze. "No—!"
Riku's face twisted into a grin. "He's dead weight! He's manipulative, I know it! Look at him — he's not scared, he's playing us! If he's gone, the board balances easier. We all live!"
He lunged toward Arata.
Aya screamed, throwing herself between them. "Stop! Please, stop!"
The board tilted dangerously with their struggle. Haruto shouted, trying to rebalance. "You'll kill us all!"
Riku shoved Aya aside, reaching for Arata's throat. Arata's wide eyes filled with tears — but only on the surface.
Inside, his voice was calm, steady, sharp.
Now.
With a subtle shift of his foot, Arata leaned just enough to tip the board further. Riku stumbled, losing balance, his eyes widening in shock.
"No—!"
The board tilted sharply. The mechanism hissed. And then, with a thunderous clang, the lowest side unlocked.
Riku's scream echoed as he plummeted into the abyss.
Silence followed.
02:02… 02:01…
The board steadied again. Three remained.
Aya collapsed into Arata's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. "He tried to kill you… he really tried to…"
Arata stroked her hair with trembling hands, his voice soft, choked with false emotion. "I… I didn't want this… but it's just us now… we have to survive…"
Haruto stood apart, silent. His eyes, though, never left Arata. Cold. Calculating. Suspicious.
Arata felt it. The weight of that stare.
Good. Watch me. Doubt me. The more you do, the more you'll crack. And when you do… I'll be ready.
The timer struck zero. The voice returned.
> "Congratulations. Three remain. You have survived the Balance Board. Rest well… before the next game begins."
The board lowered slowly, returning them to the ground. Aya clung to Arata like he was her lifeline. Haruto adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable.
And Arata, behind the mask of trembling fear, allowed himself the faintest smile.
Two down. Two to go. And the mask hasn't even cracked yet.