In a dimly lit room, illuminated only by the flickering glow of screens, a young boy scanned, analyzed, rewound again and again—until he lost all sense of time.
At that very moment, another boy of the same age, wearing glasses, entered. For a brief second, the room lit up before plunging back into darkness.
"Any news, Teri?"
"Sorry, Vagner, nothing to report."
Vagner turned around and stared at him, the dark circles under his eyes and their slight reddish hue revealing his many sleepless nights.
"And that guy, Ren?"
Teri stepped forward and handed him a cup of coffee.
"So far, the intruder hasn't made contact with Ren. At least, not to my knowledge."
Vagner clicked his tongue and turned back to the screens.
"Who the hell are you!"
He jumped from one screen to the next, replaying the same scenes over and over.
"Idiot!"
A well-placed smack to the back of the insomniac's head, delivered by Teri, knocked him off his seat.
"ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!"
"SHUT UP!!! WHAT WOULD MY AUNT SAY IF SHE SAW YOU COLLAPSING FROM EXHAUSTION?!"
Vagner suddenly remembered the dark days spent beside his mother when he was sick. A shiver ran down his spine.
Teri adjusted his glasses and went on:
"You should give up. We can't track him forever."
Vagner thought for a moment before replying:
"Yeah, you're right. It's already a miracle David and Carla haven't made a move yet."
Then he swiveled in his chair.
"Tomorrow, bring everyone to the training room."
"You mean…"
"Yes. It's time to conquer the fifth floor."
"Do you know what's going on?"
"No, I came for the same reason you did."
"Hope they change the lunch menu."
That morning, Vagner had summoned all the residents to gather in the training room, without giving any further details.
"Hope they haven't started yet…"
Ren entered, eyeing the vast crowd already seated.
To the left, David's section. He sat at the top, overlooking the entire floor, with a guy beside him keeping him company.
"Probably a lackey."
Across from them, Carla's section. Unlike David's, the seats beside her were all taken. On her lap, little Catherine slept peacefully like a doll.
At the center sat the complex's staff—the ones who managed and maintained the place.
But the moment Ren stepped forward, all eyes turned to him. Even David and Carla craned their necks in his direction.
I swear, next time I'm getting here early.
The spectators had thought it was Vagner who'd just walked in—but no, just some random guy.
Still, now that he had everyone's attention, one question remained: which side would he choose?
Because that would reveal whose faction he belonged to.
Carla was out of the question. After their encounter in the library, Ren seriously doubted she wanted anything to do with him. In fact, she was glaring daggers at him.
The central section seemed like the logical choice: it wasn't just staff, but also unaffiliated residents—"neutrals," so to speak.
But Ren didn't believe in neutrality. To him, if you didn't pick a side from the start, your future allies would see you as a potential enemy. Just look at World War III.
"In that case…"
Ren sat in David's section and waited.
David already seemed to consider him one of his own, so why stir the pot?
"By the way, where's Yane?"
Ren scanned the central seats, but his roommate was nowhere to be seen.
His worry faded as he saw him walk in, followed by others carrying unusual-looking objects.
"Melee weapons?"
"They really want us to fight?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't mind watching an old-school duel."
While the boys buzzed with excitement, the girls seemed far more skeptical.
"Doesn't matter the era, guys are still barbarians."
"Not surprising. They're the reason wars even exist."
Ren, however, had a different take.
I hope today I'll finally get to the bottom of this.
He had a theory about the weapons, thanks to all his time in the library. But he needed concrete proof to move forward.
At that moment, Teri—the library manager and one of the first people Ren had met upon waking up—rolled out a man-sized object. It looked like a mirror, but was covered in fabric, making it impossible to tell for sure.
And behind him…
"Vagner."
Even more impressive in person.
His calm, smiling expression, his relaxed stride—he radiated the aura of a natural leader.
And yet…
The collar around his neck revealed that he, too, was a prisoner of the complex.
How could anyone trust their life to someone already trapped?
"Your attention, everyone."
Vagner's voice echoed through the room, crisp and clear like a speaker system.
"First of all, let me reintroduce myself. My name is Vagner, and—"
A girl from David's section timidly raised her hand.
"Yes, miss?"
"Sorry to interrupt… but would it be possible to know your full name?"
Judging by her voice, she meant no harm. Still, others seized the moment to press him further.
"Yeah, who are you really?"
"I can't trust a complete stranger."
"We want answers."
Neither Carla nor David intervened. They simply watched, making no effort to calm the crowd.
As the noise swelled to a crescendo, Vagner pulled out a gun and pointed it at the audience.
Silence fell instantly. The only sound that remained was the frantic pounding of hearts.
David, unmoved, stared hard at Vagner. Carla tightened her grip around Catherine without waking her.
Ren studied the scene, wondering what the girl could've done the night before to look so utterly drained.
Until now, he had remained calm, holding back any strong reaction. But that all changed when Vagner pointed the gun his way—directly at him.
He knew it, because Vagner was looking straight at him with an amused glint in his eyes… and then…
He pulled the trigger.