The fog cleared again, revealing the third scene through Marshmallow's memories. The environment materialized around him, forming a cramped, run-down apartment that was all too familiar. Marshmallow saw himself at nineteen, still in military uniform, standing frozen in the doorway with a tense expression.

Present-day Marshmallow watched the scene with sadness, already knowing what was about to happen. He remembered that day all too well: the urgent telegram received at the front, the frantic journey home, and the anguish clutching his chest as he approached the door.

Young Marshmallow, trembling, opened the door. He called out, "Mom? Dad?" No answer. Receiving no response, he advanced down the hallway while his eyes registered signs of a violent struggle: a shattered vase on the floor, overturned books, and then those dark stains that could only be dried blood.

"What the fuck happened in here?" Young Marshmallow couldn't help but rush inside, rounding the corner and entering the living room.

The scene before him was a nightmare come to life. His mother, Grace, sat motionless in a chair, face turned toward the window. Marshmallow's heart stopped for a moment when he called her name and she slowly turned to face him.

Grace's face, once full of love and warmth, had been transformed into a mask of burned flesh and scars. Where there were once eyes full of life, now there were only empty, scarred sockets. "You're back," she said in a voice devoid of emotion.

Young Marshmallow collapsed to his knees.

"Mom... what happened?"

Grace answered in a flat tone, devoid of any inflection.

"Your father took some acid and poured it on my face."

Before his mother could continue, Clementine, the second-born, entered the room. "You're finally here."

"Where's Dad now?" Marshmallow asked, though part of him already felt he knew the answer.

Clementine shook her head as she was about to burst into tears.

"He shot himself."

At that moment, something inside Marshmallow snapped. Anger, pain, and helplessness exploded in a wave of destructive fury. He suddenly began to destroy everything within reach, overturning the table, smashing chairs against the wall, and tearing paintings from the walls. "Bastard!" He screamed. "How dare you?! How dare you do this to us?! Why?!"

Ruby, the third-born, rushed into the room, desperately trying to calm her brother. "Please, stop!" She begged, hugging him. But Marshmallow was out of control, consumed by rage and guilt.

"I should have been here, mom!" He shouted. "I should have protected you from that piece of shit!"

Clementine tried to reason with him. "It's not your fault, you couldn't have done anything!"

And in a corner of the room, Oliver, the youngest brother, was now curled up with his hands pressed to his ears. "Make it all stop," he whimpered through tears.

Grace, meanwhile, remained motionless in her chair with her disfigured face turned toward Marshmallow as if she could still see. Her voice, surprisingly calm amidst the chaos, interrupted her son's fury.

"That's enough. Destroying our home will only make things worse."

Young Marshmallow then stopped, now panting and with trembling hands. He felt his heart bursting. He couldn't accept what had happened, but it was the harsh reality.

"How can we go on after all this?"

He collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed by grief. The universe was asking too much of him, and he could do nothing to change reality. He had never felt such a sense of betrayal. Things hadn't been going well for a while. His father had lost his job and his family was falling apart, with Marshmallow absent at the front, unable to be the glue holding them together. The war was intensifying and life in Pancrazia was getting harder and harder. It wasn't uncommon for people to lose their minds in that context, and his father was one of them.

He would never forgive him. Young Marshmallow slumped to the ground, overwhelmed by pain, while his two sisters knelt beside him, embracing him.

Present-day Marshmallow watched the scene with watery eyes. It hurt just as much as it did back then.

"Everything changed that day," he said. "There was no happy ending, no miracle. Just pain and new responsibilities that crashed down on me like a boulder."

Puel, meanwhile, continued to float silently beside him. "How did you handle the immediate aftermath?"

Marshmallow could only shake his head. "I didn't handle it well at all. I was angry, confused, and overwhelmed. I couldn't believe something like this had happened to me. I had to learn to take care of the family practically on my own while I was falling apart myself. There was no heroism or nobility, just the need to survive in the midst of a war that showed no signs of ending."

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"And how did this experience influence your future choices?" Puel pressed.

Marshmallow remained silent for a moment, reflecting. "I got to know cynicism," he admitted. "I realized that everything can crumble in an instant, and maybe that drove me to seek financial security at all costs, for the sake of my family. Even through risky choices like gambling. I didn't care about myself, but I absolutely didn't want anything like what had happened to Mom to happen again somehow. I felt I had to protect them even at the cost of my own life. I'm not proud of it, but I was desperate and saw no other way."

The scene then faded, giving way to the fourth and final memory. Puel announced at that moment, "So you participated in the Survivor Game to protect them and not yourself? Everything you did, you did for them? Not for yourself or for your country?"

"Yeah, that's right. It was gambling everything that led me here, to the end of the Survivor Game."

"Then now we'll see the moment when you made the decision to participate in the Survivor Game and went to tell your family."

Marshmallow found himself again on the threshold of his house, but this time he was a year older. He wore the shabby clothes he wore when working for that piece of shit O'Connell. He had to tell his family what he intended to do, but in the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it and decided to leave a letter. Puel noticed Marshmallow focused on watching the scene and asked with feline curiosity, "Were you aware of the risks?"

Marshmallow laughed bitterly. "Risks? What risks. For me, the Survivor Game was just another gamble, but I promised myself it would be the last. I was lucky to get this far, but I feel like I've never been able to choose anything in my life. The very day the Survivor Game was announced, I had gotten sixteen lashes from two loan sharks I owed a ton of money to, and I had no way out. The Survivor Game was an obligation because I would never have scraped together the required sum."

He paused as his eyes hardened. "But more than myself, I was actually worried about my family. Sooner or later, the loan sharks would come knocking on my door, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs. I left my organs as collateral for the Survivor Game. If I die, my organs will cover the loan sharks' expenses, and they won't come looking for my family. But then how will they manage? My mother is disabled, my sisters have no job skills, and my little brother is just a child. A life of hardship awaits them. These days, there's a chance they'll have to prostitute themselves to keep the family going, and Oliver will be forced to work like a slave. We have nothing left, and I'm the only one who can save them. I can't lose the Survivor Game; I have to win at all costs."

"All this does you credit," Puel said frankly.

"Once I'm out of all this, I'll become a better person and master of my own destiny. My family is my strength and what has led me to where I am."

The scene faded again, bringing Marshmallow back to the spiral staircase. But this time, before his eyes, between the stairs appeared the different versions of himself he had seen in his memories: the frightened child, the tempted teenager, the young adult crushed by responsibilities, and the determined player of the Survivor Game.

"You've relived the key moments of your life. What have you learned?"

Marshmallow remained silent for a long moment, reflecting on everything he had seen and experienced. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with new awareness.

"I remembered how hard real life is," he began, "but it's these challenges and this pain that have made me who I am now. I've made mistakes, made wrong choices driven by desperation. But these events have taught me who I truly am now. I've become a resilient person thanks to my father; I've learned to make careful choices thanks to all the mistakes related to gambling."

Then he paused, looking at the more recent versions of himself. "Loss and responsibility have shown me my inner strength. And the decision to enter the Survivor Game... made me understand how far I'm willing to go to protect those I love."

Puel nodded slowly with an enigmatic smile. Then, slowly, he began to dissolve into the air. "Then all that's left is for you to proceed, Marshmallow. Keep going down; BloodLust is waiting for you. Good luck."