-14th Rest-

We had now rested fourteen times since entering the Graylands. If each rest roughly equated to a day, then we had been wandering through this strange land for nearly two weeks. The thought filled me with unease. If this timeline were correct, it meant something had gone terribly wrong with the team I left outside the Graylands.

As we journeyed back, we followed the cable that we had laid behind us, a lifeline meant to guide us out of this place. It had been our one constant amidst the changing, gray landscape. But as we set up camp once again, I took a closer look at the cable, and a deep sense of dread set in. I distinctly remember instructing the outside team to begin reeling in the cable slowly after five days. They should have started by now. Yet, as I examined the cable, I realized with a growing alarm that it wasn’t moving at all.

It lay completely still as if the team outside had abandoned their task or—worse—forgotten us entirely. That simple observation sent a chill down my spine. What could have caused such a failure? Has something happened to the team on the outside? Or, more horrifyingly, had we somehow become disconnected from them? If the cable had been severed somewhere, then we were adrift in the Graylands with no guarantee of finding our way out.

Tom had been giving me odd, lingering stares, and each one made my skin crawl. I knew the Graylands were eroding his mind, just as they were gnawing away at everyone else in the caravan. But with Tom, it felt different—more personal. There was a tension between us that had been simmering long before we entered this accursed place, and I could sense that it was beginning to reach a boiling point.

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I had exposed the truth about his inferior bloodline, something he had no doubt been stewing over since the moment the words left my mouth. That sort of insult, one that cut deep into a man’s very identity, wasn’t easily forgotten. And now, in this land where reality seemed to warp and fray at the edges, I feared that Tom's resentment was festering into something dangerous.

His eyes, sharp and accusatory, would follow me during our stops, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was planning something—waiting for the right moment to act. Dangerous situations like this have an uncanny way of amplifying the worst parts of a person’s nature. Tom, though, was different. His anger wasn’t a product of fear or hallucinations. No, it was rooted in a much older grudge, and I suspected that the Graylands were only fueling it further.

I had to stay vigilant. Tom’s pride had been wounded, and wounded pride could make men irrational, even violent. I knew his kind—half-blood, full of resentment and rage, always looking for someone to blame for their inadequacies. And now, with the Graylands chipping away at whatever mental fortitude he had left, I feared he might decide that I was the one responsible for his suffering.

He was planning something. I could feel it in every glance he threw my way. He might be planning to take me out like they did with the panic man before. If that’s the case maybe I need to get to him fir—No! What am I saying?

FOCUS JIN! Don’t let your rational mind slip away like those brutes. You are better than them. I will not succumb to base violence like them. I will keep an eye on Tom, but I will not be reduced to their level.

On my name, Jin von— wait? My name is not Jin. It’s Robert Evans. How…did I mix up my own name?