The platform lowered slowly, creaking and groaning as it returned them to solid ground. The chains rattled above, then fell still. Silence smothered the room.
Three remained.
Aya clung to Arata's arm like a drowning girl clings to driftwood, her face pressed against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. Her body trembled with every breath.
Haruto stood a few paces away, silent. His glasses caught the dim glow of the overhead light, hiding his eyes.
No one spoke.
The distorted voice had left them in silence, with no instructions, no taunting. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that made the heart pound harder, as if even silence itself was a trap.
At last, Aya whispered. Her voice was hoarse, broken. "He tried to kill you. He… he would've killed you."
Her grip on Arata tightened. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Not ever. You're all I have left now, Arata. Please… don't leave me too."
Her words clung to him like chains. Her devotion, born of fear and desperation, coiled itself around his fragile façade.
Arata lowered his head, his voice soft, quivering. "I-I don't want to leave you. I'll protect you, Aya. I promise."
She sobbed harder, burying herself deeper into his arms.
But behind her back, unseen, Arata's trembling stopped. His eyes opened, sharp and cold, watching Haruto through the strands of his hair.
She's mine now. Bound by fear, bound by gratitude. But Haruto… Haruto sees too much.
Haruto finally spoke. His voice was quiet, measured, like a knife sliding from its sheath.
"…Riku wasn't wrong."
Aya's head snapped up, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare say that!"
Haruto's gaze didn't waver. "He saw something in Arata. So did I. Twice now, Arata has survived where the odds were stacked against him. Conveniently so. Suspiciously so."
Arata flinched, drawing back slightly, his voice cracking. "P-Please… I don't want to fight. I don't know anything. I just… I just don't want to die."
Aya moved in front of him like a shield, glaring at Haruto. "Stop it! You're just trying to pin the blame because you're scared!"
Haruto adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. "Fear sharpens the mind. And my mind tells me that Arata isn't who he pretends to be."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Aya turned to Arata, desperate, clutching his hands. "Don't listen to him. I trust you. I trust you with my life."
Her eyes shone with feverish devotion. Too bright. Too intense.
Arata gave her a fragile smile, his body shaking as if overwhelmed. But inside, he whispered to himself:
Perfect. The more she defends me, the more he doubts. And the more he doubts, the easier it is to push him into the abyss when the time comes.
The lights flickered. The silence shattered. The distorted voice returned, colder than ever.
> "Three players remain. Your next trial begins now. Prepare yourselves for Game Three."
The floor rumbled beneath them. Another section of the room split open, revealing a narrow hall that stretched into darkness.
Aya clutched Arata's hand tightly. Haruto didn't move, his sharp gaze still fixed on Arata.
> "Game Three: The Confession Room. A trial of trust… and betrayal."
The hall lit up with crimson light, revealing three doors at its end. Each bore a name.
AYA. HARUTO. ARATA.
The voice purred.
> "Each of you will enter your own room. Inside, you will find a secret about another player. You may choose to reveal it when you return… or keep it hidden. If no one speaks, all three survive. But if even one secret is spoken aloud, the person it belongs to is executed instantly."
The doors swung open with a groan.
Aya gasped. Haruto's eyes narrowed.
And Arata… smiled faintly where no one could see.
Secrets. Lies. Betrayal. This is my stage.