A dragging noise.
Konan's eyes dropped to the ground.
A small rubber ball rolled to his feet, its shape deformed and strange.
While Kozen ranted behind him, "And who the hell's gonna clean up this mess, huh?!"
Zen nodded, honestly that was a fair concern.
But—
"Calm the fuck down, you red hair," Pawen scowled, digging into his ear. "You're making my ears ache."
Exactly.
Zen nodded again in approval.
But then he notices something is wrong.
He was surprised that Konan still hasn't said anything. He looked around.
Konan?!
Zen spotted him, Konan was standing stock still behind Kozen, horrified.
Hmm?
His face pale. Eyes wide. Hands trembling.
Zen's brows creased. He stepped forward, worried.
"Konan? What happened?"
He remembered the blows Konan took earlier. Maybe he was internal bleeding? Or something was worse than they thought.
Zen reached out to tap his shoulder.
"Konan, hey, what's wro—"
Before his palm could land, Konan flinched back violently—
"…AAAAAAAHHH!!!"
A scream tore through the night, sharp enough to pierce the clouds above.
"Th-there..."
Konan stumbled back and collapsed, pointing toward the pile of debris.
Zen's gaze followed and his body froze.
A broken wardrobe. It must've fallen when Kozen kicked the junk pile.
The door hung open.
Under the moonlight, something pale peeled out from within.
A hand.
A tiny skeletal hand.
Zen's breath caught in horror.
No…
He stepped forward, shakily.
Behind him, murmurs rose.
"That's not real, is it?"
"I've never seen a corpse before."
"Maybe it's a courage test? Like... psychological, y'know?"
Zen tuned them out. He weaved carefully through the debris and reached the wardrobe.
With trembling hands, he grasped the door and pulled it fully open.
Inside—
A little angel.
Or what remained of one.
A dirty, torn pink skirt still clung to fragile bones. A small teddy bear rested in her lap.
Even in death, she was curled up, as if hiding. As if still scared.
Zen's vision blurred.
He could imagine it. How her last moment was.
Alone. Cold. Suffocating in the dark.
Someone gasped behind him.
"What the fu—!"
Fabasa quietly appeared beside Zen, tapping on his mobile flashlights.
He murmured, "Must be a child from the orphanage."
Zen stumbled back. His hands quivered and his heart pounded.
"What do we do?"
This was real.
Even though this was not his first time seeing death, he'd seen starvation, suffering, and people dying from cold.
But his heart still ache for this little soul.
This little girl didn't even get a chance to grow up.
At this moment, a person screamed.
"Aahh! Go to hell!"
A brick flew through the air, aimed at the wardrobe.
Zen's eyes widened, feeling absurd.
"What are you doing?!"
Thankfully before the brick could hit, Kozen was fast enough to crushed it mid-air with his bare fist. He snarled.
"Son of a bitch! What were you trying to do?!"
The man who threw it hiccuped, trembling as he grabbed another brick.
"That's not real! It's just a prop! This is probably a test! Let me destroy it!"
Zen stared at him, incredibly. Was he serious?
Was he hearing himself right now? He couldn't grasp the logic behind his actions.
Before the brick could fly again, another figure stepped in.
It was the crown-haired guy. He knocked it out of his hands.
"That's enough! You think this is a joke? Use your brain."
Kozen stormed over, hostilely.
"Drag this bastard away before I break his legs."
Then he turned to Konan.
"And you."
He stopped right in front of him and scolded.
"If you're gonna grovel, just go home already. Don't block our path."
Konan shook and staggered to his feet, still pale.
"I–I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
Meanwhile, Hako had already grabbed the brick-thrower and was coldly dragging him inside the house.
"Let me go! I know what I'm doing! We have to destroy that thing!"
The guy thrashed against Hako's grip, eyes wild.
Tch.
Hako clicked his tongue and flung him hard against the wall.
Swoosh.
His boot slammed into the wall just inches from the guy's face, rattling dust and debris.
"Hic–" The guy choked on a breath, finally falling silent.
His eyes darted to the boot that nearly crushed his face, and then away, terrified.
Hako planted his staff into the ground, leaning on it with casual menace.
"Listen here, shithead." His voice was cold. "We don't need you to tell us what to do. Even if it is a test, it's not yours to destroy. We don't stand for pointless destruction."
He scoffed.
"But I guess that won't go through that thick skull of yours. Why don't you say it again, after you officially become one?"
The guy slid to the floor, trembling, his breath unsteady as Hako turned and walked away.
After I officially become one?
I'll definitely pass the test… right?
.
.
.
Somewhere else, in the still of night...
A quiet convoy of trucks maneuvered down an empty road, tires whispering against the pavement.
"Achoo!" Yata sneezed violently and shivered, rubbing his arms.
He cracked open the window, letting in a chill breeze as he peered out.
"Did you hear something just now?"
Rei, sitting beside him, didn't look up from his screen.
"No."
Yata frowned and jabbed him with an elbow.
"Seriously. I thought I heard someone screaming."
"Must be your imagination." Rei said flatly. "Maybe cut back on those supplements you're always taking."
"Is that so?" Yata muttered, suspicious, but reluctantly rolled the window up.
Then he leaned over, sneakily peeking at Rei's screen.
"Oh! You're writing your review?"
He squinted.
"Wow. Your standards are brutal."
All he saw was red marking.
"We don't need traitors." Rei replied coldly.
Then he scowled, pushing Yata's face away.
"Go write your own. Captain wants them in one hour."
"One hour?!"
Yata scrambled to open his account, frantically checking the group chat.
Damn.
[Report to me by midnight, sharp. Deduction of 1000 Rei to be initiated for every minute late.]
"Fuck."
He slumped back.
Another day of being exploited by capitalists.