The train roared through the mountains, a streak of silver cutting across the ashes of District 12.
Vince sat by the window, watching the trees blur into shadow. Every few seconds, his reflection flashed in the glass — unfamiliar eyes, sharper jawline, coal-dust scars that didn't belong to the man he remembered being.
The System's faint glow flickered in the corner of his vision, always present but quiet now.
Status: Stable. Emotional equilibrium achieved.
He wanted to laugh at that. Equilibrium. No, this was acceptance — the kind that came after panic burned out. He was here. He had volunteered. There was no respawn button waiting for him on the other side.
Across from him, Katniss sat rigid, staring at her hands. Her braid was a dark streak down her back. The silence between them was heavy — not awkward, but cautious, like two people standing on opposite sides of a fault line.
Effie bustled in, her voice a flutter of forced brightness. "Look at this! You two will be the pride of District 12! Proper table manners now, we're guests of the Capitol."
Vince nodded mechanically as plates clattered down — meats glistening, fruits so bright they looked fake. He picked up a fork, hesitated, then began to eat slowly. The taste hit him like a weapon — salt, sugar, warmth. Real food. He hadn't realized how starved he was.
The System chimed softly.
Nutritional efficiency restored. Emotional stability +1.
He ignored it.
Katniss didn't touch her food at first. She just watched him, the faintest crease between her brows. "You don't look scared," she said finally.
"I am," he admitted. "But being scared won't change anything."
She looked down again. "I don't understand why you volunteered."
He wanted to tell her the truth — that he'd already seen how her story was supposed to unfold. But how could he explain something like that without sounding insane? So he said, "Because I couldn't stand watching someone else die in my place."
Her gaze flicked up. Something softened. Not trust yet, but a small acknowledgment.
Haymitch stumbled in, already drunk, but there was a strange clarity behind his slur.
"You think dying for someone's the same as living for 'em?" he said, pointing at Vince. "You'll find out which costs more soon enough."
Vince didn't answer. He just looked back at the passing trees, the last shadows of home fading behind the horizon.
Objective Update: Adapt to environment.
Reward pending.
He whispered to himself, almost inaudible, "This is it. My life now."
The System didn't respond. Only the train did — a mechanical heartbeat dragging him toward the Capitol and whatever version of himself waited there.