Exiting the bathroom, Claude’s mind raced. “Killing is allowed. Stealing coins is allowed. What was the point of my strategy? We could have just traded coins without playing.”

The truth was clear: the game was rigged from the start. The rules were designed to manipulate human behavior, exploiting fear and greed. The game master reveled in this. Watching participants struggle within the constraints of their own assumptions was his greatest pleasure.

In the surveillance room, silence filled the air. The game master reviewed a report handed to him by one of the administrators.

“I see… so there’s two of them, huh?” he murmured, flipping to the first page. A file detailing Claude Bask’s personal particulars stared back at him.

“Player 009…” The game master’s voice dropped to a low, deliberate tone. “I saw it with my own eyes. In that bathroom… even I couldn’t follow it. He threw a punch…? Whatever it was, this guy… Participant 009… Claude Bask… is definitely… one of us.”

Claude rode the elevator up to the second floor. The doors opened with a soft chime, revealing two administrators standing guard at the entrance to a grand space. The door before him was made of glass, giving Claude a clear view of what lay beyond. It resembled the lavish dining hall of a billionaire’s mansion, adorned with intricate chandeliers, gilded columns, and walls lined with fine art. Every detail screamed luxury, a stark contrast to the chaos below.

“Show us your coins,” one of the administrators said flatly.

Without a word, Claude revealed his collection of 55 coins. The administrators barely reacted, their stoic expressions unchanged.

“You may enter,” they declared in unison after a cursory glance at his hoard.

Claude raised an eyebrow, surprised by their lack of surprise. He had 55 coins—a staggering amount compared to the blood-soaked battles for mere scraps happening on the first floor. Yet the administrators didn’t seem to care. Another thing puzzled him: they didn’t collect the coins. They only wanted to see them.

“So, I heard there’s a prize for these coins? Money? Or maybe I can save someone’s life? Where’s your exchange center, bruh?” Claude asked, his tone half-joking but his face completely serious.

“Details will be provided to everyone once the game has concluded, or the five-hour mark is reached. For now, go inside and enjoy what you’ve earned,” the administrator replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Ahh, is that right…” Claude muttered to himself, stepping inside. As he did, distant screams from the first floor echoed faintly, carried up through the building like ghostly whispers.

Down below, chaos had erupted. One of the remaining participants had entered the bathroom, only to stumble upon the blood-drenched remains of Kenneth’s lower half.

“A DEAD BODY! THERE’S A DEAD BODY HERE! WHAT THE FUCK?!” the man’s panicked screams reverberated through the hallway, drawing the attention of nearby participants. The scene—a floor slick with blood and a mangled corpse—sent waves of shock and fear rippling through the crowd.

Yet the administrators remained indifferent. The man stormed toward the nearest one, grabbing his shirt with both hands in desperation.

“What the fuck is this?! Someone DIED!” he shouted, his voice trembling with fury and terror.

The administrator moved with precision, disarming the man in one swift motion. A sharp kick to the leg sent him off balance, and a shove pushed him to the ground. The movements were clean, calculated, and professional, like those of a trained operative.

“No rules were broken. Continue the game as per usual,” the administrator stated coldly.

“What… the fuck…?” the man stammered, his defiance faltering. “No rules were broken? SOMEONE DIED!”

But then his words trailed off as a chilling thought struck him. Though incorrect, the idea was enough to send a surge of panic through his veins.

“The executive must have killed Kenneth for running out of coins,” he thought. His hand instinctively darted to his pocket, where he found only a single coin. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the horrifying realization sank in. He was almost out of time, and he feared that Kenneth’s grisly fate would soon be his own.

Back on the second floor, Claude wandered through the opulent hall, scanning the faces of the other participants. He was searching for Don but found no trace of him. As he continued his search, his gaze landed on a familiar figure.

It was her—the beautiful woman with golden hair and piercing yellow eyes. She wore a tailored formal outfit that exuded confidence and authority.

“Well… shit,” Claude thought, feeling a wave of awkwardness wash over him. He wasn’t afraid, but there was an unease, a discomfort similar to an introvert spotting a familiar face at an inconvenient time.

As if sensing his gaze, the woman turned her head, her golden eyes locking directly onto his. Claude froze as a chill ran down his spine. He immediately turned away and began walking in the opposite direction, his pace quickening.

“Obviously, she made it too, huh?” Claude muttered under his breath. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice that sent shivers down his spine.

“What’s the hurry?” she whispered into his ear, her tone laced with a seductive edge.

Claude’s breath caught, and his heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t jump or show overt surprise. Instead, he turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he processed the impossible. She had been kilometers away just seconds ago, and now she was right behind him, close enough for him to feel her breath on his neck.

“Is this your idea, Elaine?” Claude asked, his voice calm as he turned back slowly to face her. Her name, apparently, was Elaine.

“Of course not. This is nonsense,” Elaine replied, her voice carrying a captivating blend of softness and authority. It was gentle and childlike, yet enigmatic and unsettling, a tone that seemed to linger in the air long after she spoke.

“What happened to the kids you were playing with?” Elaine continued, tilting her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“One of them made it. The other is…” Claude’s words trailed off, his sentence left unfinished as Elaine quickly interjected.

“Anyway, they have really nice food here. Let’s sit at one of the tables. They will serve us,” Elaine said with an air of nonchalance, turning gracefully toward a nearby dining table. Claude hesitated briefly but followed her reluctantly.

They settled at the table, the pristine white cloth and gleaming silverware adding to the atmosphere of luxury. A waiter approached almost immediately, standing attentively as they took their seats.

“You may order anything you wish,” the waiter said, bowing slightly.

“Wagyu beef with foie gras and black truffles, paired with a Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Romanée-Conti Grand Cru,” Elaine ordered smoothly, her words flowing like a practiced melody.

Claude blinked. He had no idea what she had just said. The dish sounded more like a riddle than a meal.

“Understood. And for you, sir?” the waiter asked, turning to Claude with a polite smile.

“Just give me… a plate of rice with truffle fries on the side… and grape juice,” Claude replied, his tone nonchalant.

The waiter nodded without comment. “Understood,” she said, before walking off.

Elaine’s lips curved into a small, amused smile. “How very simplistic… and weird at the same time,” she said, her soft and seductive voice dripping with playful mockery. “Rice… and fries?” She let out a light laugh, the sound musical but somehow unsettling.

“Well, I don’t even know what you ordered,” Claude replied flatly, his expression unchanged.

Elaine’s laughter grew more genuine, a childlike giggle that seemed at odds with her otherwise mature demeanor. She leaned forward slightly, her golden eyes locking onto Claude’s with an intensity that was both alluring and disarming. Her smile was seductive, but she said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them.

On the surface, Claude appeared calm and indifferent, but internally, he was grappling with the chaos of his own thoughts.

“This witch…” Claude thought, his mind racing. He knew exactly what Elaine was doing. Every movement, every look, every word was carefully calculated to toy with his emotions. But Claude also knew it wasn’t entirely intentional. For Elaine, this was second nature, a behavior ingrained so deeply that it had become an unthinking habit. She didn’t just manipulate—she embodied it. And while Claude prided himself on his composure, he couldn’t deny the subtle effect she had on him. His heart skipped a beat, even as he silently cursed her for it.

“So, what’s your plan for the games?” Elaine asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Claude glanced at her as the waiter returned, placing their dishes on the table with impeccable precision. “I’ll just continue to play,” he said simply.

“I see,” Elaine replied, her tone light but thoughtful. “Guess I would too…” she added, almost as if her decision hinged on his.

The two began eating their meals in relative silence. Elaine’s luxurious dish was served with meticulous presentation, while Claude’s rice and fries looked almost comically plain by comparison. Yet neither seemed bothered by the contrast. As they dined, the mood between them remained strangely serene, though tension simmered beneath the surface.