Edris and Jagon faced each other, locked in a tense silence that spread through the Golden Room’s black-station area.

Ace watched from across the machines. He knew, better than most, that the dark-haired man never had the reactions Jagon believed he did. Every breath, every shift of Edris’s posture, was part of a plan designed to make Jagon trust his so-called beast-tamer senses.

Jagon’s heightened perception let him track small changes in heart rate, breath, or stance. Yet he failed to see what truly mattered: Edris was not just playing the game; he was playing Jagon himself.

The man in the bear mask clung to every quickened pulse, every twitch, convinced he had Edris cornered. He overlooked the deeper maneuvering going on behind those pale eyes.

Before long, it was match point, 6:6. Jagon slammed his hand on the console. His voice now carried a hint of desperation.

“How are you guessing my calls right? You must be hiding something.”

Edris leaned back in his seat, his mask framing a certain placidity.

“Hm, so you’re allowed to read an opponent’s signals, but we can’t do the same to you?” He shrugged. “You’re less special than you think, Mister Bear.”

Jagon shot up, nearly overturning his chair. “You…!”

The host knocked on the table between them, his voice monotone. “Mister Bear, calm down. No violence is allowed in the Golden Room.”

Jagon settled back down, though anger lit his eyes. He glared at the token in front of him. Edris observed him with a look that bordered on amusement.

“My hunch,” he said, tapping the table with a slight pause, “tells me this is a Torch.”

His lips curved faintly.

“Am I bluffing or not?”

Jagon narrowed his eyes, as though trying to dig out the answer behind Edris’s words. After three seconds, he spat out the final response.

“Torch.”

Jagon flipped the token. Reflected against his constricted pupils was the familiar SHADOW symbol. The next second, the scoreboard flickered:

> 6 : 7

“CONGRATULATIONS TO MISTER TURTLE AT STATION NO. 13 FOR WINNING THE BIDDED MATCH!”

A murmur ran through the spectating crowd. Edris rose, brushing non-existent dust from his coat. The console flashed a notice of three new cards added to his [CARD SLOT].

He let a smile slip through.

“Thank you for the entertainment, Mister Musclehead.”

Jagon, staring at him, realized how thoroughly he’d been fooled. Enraged, he threw his arm to his side in an attempt to hurl a bolt of mana, only for it to vanish in the space around them.

“No mana usage is allowed in [ANCHOR HOUSE],” the host said plainly, then made a signal with his thumb and index finger.

The next moment, two staff members emerged from the onlookers like lurking shadows. Heeding the host’s command, they seized Jagon before he could lash out again. Despite their thin appearance, the staff members were stronger than they appeared, dragging him from the room with no room for resistance.

Edris stepped away from the console. Glancing toward the corridor where Jagon had been taken, he shook his head.

“What a joke.”

***

Edris stood on his balcony overlooking the pseudo-city. Night stretched over the towers and walkways of [ANCHOR HOUSE], bringing with it a hush that made the artificial constellations above seem oddly real.

He looked down at his open palm, pulling it up in a swiping motion to evoke his [PROFILE].

Nothing.

“As expected.”

He had a feeling that it wouldn’t work here. In the safety of [ANCHOR HOUSE], there were no floating windows, no status screens; such things existed only within the Cocoon pods or inside the next Labyrinth. He would need one of those to examine the new cards he had taken from Jagon.

When he’d won against Jagon back at the Golden Room, Celio and Ives had hurried over, eyes full of questions about how he managed such a comeback. Edris only waved them off.

“Gambling isn’t for kids,” he had said, already moving towards the exit. “Focus on resting. We have bigger problems soon enough.”

Edris gazed at the town spreading below him. The next moment, a sigh escaped his lips.

“I know you’re here.”

From the corner of his eye, a slim figure slid over the balcony railing, landing with soundless grace. His eyes flicked to Edris’s face.

“You really can’t use the door?” Edris asked, half in jest, half in resignation.

Ace only stared at him, not bothering with a response. The quiet might have felt oppressive to someone else, but Edris was used to it by now. The hush that stretched between them was its own kind of conversation.

Under that unblinking gaze, Edris exhaled.

“I know what you want to ask,” he said. “Yes, I’ve used the Sacred Artifact again. Back in Labyrinth 17.”

Ace blinked once, and a shadow crossed his features. “And the aftermath?”

“Nothing yet,” Edris shrugged, but in truth, it wasn’t exactly good news that no repercussions had yet surfaced. It could mean the penalty was lying in wait, ready to strike at a worse time.

They fell silent, but only for a moment. Edris changed the subject as though picking a stray thread from his coat.

“That said... want to say anything about what you found?” He waited, eyes flicking to Ace’s face. “It’s only polite to give back after receiving.”

Ace turned away, forearms leaning at the balcony railings.

“Labyrinth 17, I received ‘memory shards’ from a hidden quest. Yet when I tried to unlock them here, the Cocoon blocked it out,” he said.

“It’s not the first time,” Edris noted.

Ace nodded curtly. “The system itself seems to fight my attempts at retrieval. Almost like it’s engineered to keep me from reclaiming the memories.”

Edris listened. The wind whispered around them, rustling the fabric of his coat.

“How fascinating,” he mused, despite the concerns of the situation itself. “Appears that the current Labyrinth system has… cracks.”

The discoveries so far would enforce the theory that this space they were all trapped in was in a paradoxical state. Themes growing crueler, erratic updates for players… it was quite possible that multiple forces were trying to steer it.

“Could be an internal war.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed. “War.”

Edris nodded but said nothing more. Ace didn’t push. Instead, he pivoted back to an earlier question—something he had raised in the Golden Room.

“You’ve done it before, the games.”

Edris blinked, then let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“So you’re still on that?”

If there were anything one should know about Ace, it’d be that the man seemed to operate on a different set of logic than the average person.

If it were anyone else, they’d have no problem letting go of hearing an answer to a trivial question like this one. After all, the unspoken rule in human discourse followed that it was okay to leave unnecessary information behind.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

However, there was no such thing as “unnecessary information” to Ace.

Edris had always known he was someone who hoarded answers, storing every detail in that meticulous mind of his. Had Edris brushed the question aside, it would doubtless return another day.

Luckily, Edris wasn’t the type to play hide-and-seek, especially when it concerns conversations like these. As long as it wasn’t absolutely confidential, he didn’t mind sharing things about himself when asked, especially if the sharing target was one who'd provide a more significant benefit in the longer term.

Edris was a firm believer in equivalent trades, after all.

“I used to work at a gambling site in Adalan for a while,” he admitted. “A side hustle, really. Did it for a few months. Saw the typical scenes that occur in places like those—the mental processes that go on, the common reactions, how to counter them… Picked up a few skills back then, that’s all.” He watched Ace’s reaction. “Though I didn’t think I’d ever have to use them again.”

“And your participation in that match?” Ace asked. The question sounded simple, but Edris recognised the undertone of mild interrogation.

Before he could shape an answer, the man let out a scoff, as though answering himself.

“You were aiming for the cards from the beginning.”

Edris turned, lips curving in a faint, amused smile.

“Ha,” he said, then gave three distinct claps of his hands. “As expected from my partner. What a brilliant mind!”

Ace’s face remained impassive, but Edris sensed that if [ANCHOR HOUSE] hadn’t been strict about preventing violence, Ace might have slugged him. In fact, Edris half-expected him to do it anyway, rules or not.

Realization setting in, Edris lifted both palms in a quick gesture of truce.

“Consider it experience working as a host in Adalan’s gambling halls. You learn how people operate under greed, or pride, or both. Their emotions ramp up the moment they smell a reward or think they have the upper hand.

“Jagon was no different.”

Edris lowered his gaze to the balcony railing, tapping it with his fingertips.

“We already know this is likely a long-term struggle,” he went on, voice subdued. “And with the Labyrinth’s nonsense—especially the wells—we can’t be sure how our personal information will be used or twisted against us.”

Edris paused, then gave a shrug of nonchalance.

“I had to make up the loss somehow. Didn’t you say it yourself? Surviving here is more than just avoiding death. Sometimes you need leverage.”

“I never said that.”

“Let’s pretend you did.”

Ace didn’t rebuke him, so Edris continued, “It was obvious Jagon liked to flaunt those beast-tamer skills and hoard an advantage. The moment I realized his tendency to underestimate his opponent, it’d be wrong for me not to exploit that. I only aimed for one card at first, but when he revealed all three…”

Edris spread his hands, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, it would have been rude not to accept the invitation, no?”

Ace stood unmoving, eyes narrowing slightly as though he found Edris’s words more exasperating than impressive. For a second, Edris wondered what his own face looked like—probably more than punchable enough to warrant a swing if Ace felt so inclined.

But Ace simply turned his head away, finally letting the topic rest. The hush that followed felt taut, but not tense in a threatening way.

It was just how they were: Edris, always with that casual, cavalier front, and Ace, storing every fact and observation in his methodical brain, ready to bring it up when needed.

Edris leaned forward on the railing, letting the faux moonlight wash across his pale eyes. “Anyway,” he said with a slight chuckle. “I appreciate the help earlier. Knew I can count on you.”

Ace still didn’t respond aloud, but the flick of his glance toward Edris was enough to signal he’d heard every word.

They both knew Jagon’s defeat hadn’t been as simple as Edris playing mind games. Even though Edris could fool Jagon’s senses and manipulate the man’s calls, there remained the matter of guessing Jagon’s own tokens.

By strict math, it might have been a coin toss, but Edris had never placed his trust in chance.

Especially when it concerns his own.

Edris turned his gaze upward. Beyond the glass dome overhead, the artificial constellations winked back in mocking resemblance of real stars.

Back in the Golden Room, a sound-proof barrier separated the players and spectators to prevent unfair communication.

However, Edris didn’t need any verbal communication with Ace.

The man had started off as nothing more than a voice in his head, after all.

A gentle breeze passed between them. At length, Edris looked at Ace again, an intrigued smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ace turned his head away, almost reflexively, as though unwilling to reciprocate such a moment.

Both men gazed up at the glass dome overhead. A starry simulation twinkled above the pseudo-city, mirroring a real sky. Tomorrow would bring the next Labyrinth. Edris let his breath slip out as he turned to Ace.

“If we don’t end up in the same place,” he said matter-of-factly, “remember we’re still two peas in a pod—on the same boat.”

The moonlight cast a faint sheen over Ace’s white hair. In that light, Edris could see the reflection of the sky in Ace’s eyes, and he was certain Ace could see the same in his own.

“Survive, Ace.”

The man’s reply was steady, if somewhat curt.

“I should be telling you that,” he answered. “You’re much weaker than me.”

Edris let out a soft laugh. “Come on now.”

He spread his arms as though to throw one around Ace’s shoulder, but the white-haired man sidestepped him in a near-effortless motion. Unfazed, Edris only chuckled, slipping his hands back to his sides.

“Of course, the great Ace would have no problems surviving. So if we do end up in the same Labyrinth, you’ll carry me, right?”

Ace said nothing, but Edris caught a flicker of speechlessness in his gaze. A small, unspoken understanding, but more than enough.

***

Dawn arrived at [ANCHOR HOUSE], bringing with it a wave of anxious energy.

All players, Edris among them, gathered on the highest floor. The countdown loomed overhead like a sword waiting to drop. No matter where they stood, it made no difference—they would be dragged into the Labyrinth regardless—but many came here anyway, seeking some small illusion of control.

Three minutes left.

Edris, Ace, Celio, Ives, and Roos grouped together near one balustrade, while Owein took up a spot further off. Ives clung to Edris’s sleeve, her eyes darting to the slowly dwindling timer. Celio rubbed his hands in agitation, muttering about regretting not having a bigger breakfast.

Roos gave him a hearty thump on the back, laughing a bit too loudly for the mood.

“If you die, you die,” she said, in a half-joking, half-serious tone. “No point fretting over it.”

Celio’s head snapped up. “You’re not helping!” he nearly wailed, turning to Edris with eyes shining. “Master…”

Edris smoothed a reassuring hand over Celio’s shoulder. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Celio swallowed hard, then gave a short nod. Edris turned to Ives next, his expression calm.

“Remember what I told you?”

Ives nodded in all seriousness, her round eyes glimmering with determination. “If all fails, choose the most painless way to die.”

A strangled noise escaped Celio. “What kind of advice is that? Shouldn’t you be telling us how to survive?!”

Ace shook his head in the background.

A tremor in the air preceded the Caretaker’s voice, which echoed around them, carrying a clarity that pressed on everyone’s minds.

“Players, prepare yourselves,” she said, her words somehow reaching every corner of the platform. “As before, your memories and identities may be tampered with. We thank you for your continued participation.”

Ives clutched Edris’s sleeve tighter, Celio stared up at the ticking clock, and Roos merely rolled her neck as though loosening up for a race. Edris glanced toward Ace, then to the distant shape of Owein. The next Labyrinth was coming for them all, inescapable.

Two minutes.

One minute.

Ten seconds.

The tension in the air climbed. Edris drew a careful breath.

A sudden wave of light flared across his vision, engulfing the scene. In that instant, he glimpsed the Caretaker far below—her face angled toward him, lips curved in a faint, unreadable smile.

The world shuddered. Then came a jolt, as though he was pulled into some unseen corridor.

Edris gasped, disoriented, while the brilliance around him folded in on itself, leaving only the echo of the Caretaker’s final words. When the brightness receded, he found himself slumped over a desk, staring at a stack of papers. The transition was so abrupt that his eyes still burned with leftover spots of light.

He blinked.

A desk? Was it his?

The dark-haired man straightened and reached for the nearest sheet, scanning unfamiliar text. A name tag on the table caught his attention:

NAME: EDRIS

POSITION: INTERN AT ARCHIVE X.

Confusion flickered through him. Archive X? He glanced around, heart pounding.

Rows of small desks stretched across the open floor, each appearing to be an office station. Absurd enough, most of the “workers” hunched over the tables wore sheep heads, their woolly ears drooping from apparent exhaustion as each scribbled or typed relentlessly on archaic keyboards.

A cluster of six or so individuals—humans—stood out among the sheep-faced workers. Edris’s gaze landed on a head of bright gold hair that he recognized in an instant: Celio. The boy spotted him too, relief flashing across his face. He looked ready to shout but bit his lip, stifling the impulse.

A baritone voice boomed from the center walkway. Edris turned, spotting a figure with the head of a horse, tall and broad-shouldered in a formal suit. The horse-man strode between the desks, commanding immediate attention. One by one, workers and interns rose from their seats, Edris mimicking their actions only a fraction later.

“Good morning,” the horse-man said, voice echoing in a way that suggested he was used to compliance. “You all know our company goals. We have plenty to accomplish this work session.”

He paused, letting the hush settle over the crowd.

“And our interns—” His long snout dipped in Edris’s direction. “—you should be especially motivated, considering you work for no pay. Prove your worth in the probation period if you wish to remain with us long-term.”

Probation period?

Edris let himself keep a neutral expression, even as the horse-man’s rigid gaze moved along each line of desks. He analyzed the surge of information in silence. Before he could expand on a coherent thought, the horse-man barked, “What’s our company slogan?”

All around the office, the sheep-headed employees chanted in unison, as if well-rehearsed:

“Work is happiness! We serve with joy!”

The dark bags under the sheep-faced workers’ eyes, their forced chorus, and this notion of “work is happiness” all roiled together in Edris’s mind. He exchanged a quick look with Celio, who wore the pure look of bafflement across his entire face.

Free labour…

Edris subconsciously frowned.

The words were already leaving a bad taste in his mouth.