The student had straight black hair that reached all the way down to her waist.

She was wearing a neat gray school uniform. Asil strode toward the girl, who looked like she had come straight from school.

Bobby’s voice rose behind us, full of puzzlement.

“Where are you going?”

He must have been bothered by the sight of a minor.

I got up awkwardly too — it didn’t look right for a rookie to just sit there when a senior was moving.

The high school girl wasn’t sitting far away.

She held the opera glass carefully in one hand, and there [N O V E L I G H T] was nothing particularly strange about her. She didn’t give off the charisma or hostility I’d felt from the Elders, nor the suffocating tension of their subordinates watching from the shadows.

Just an ordinary student.

Behind me, Ricardo muttered, “Always sticking his nose in other people’s business...”

I followed the former detective toward her.

“What are you doing here?”

He spoke without preamble.

The girl lifted her head.

Seeing her wide-eyed, Asil’s voice came out hard.

“Just being here is illegal.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Sitting calmly amid the noise of the arena, the girl simply looked up at him. She seemed plain — no makeup, no shortened skirt, no jewelry.

Just that elegant opera glass in her hand.

The handle was long and delicately carved, an antique-style opera glass. I found myself studying it closely instead of her face.

It was a fine piece — not a cheap, mass-produced trinket. Each pattern etched into the handle bore the touch of an expert craftsman.

It must have cost a fair amount.

Where had she gotten it? It wasn’t something one could just buy anywhere.

An heirloom, maybe?

...Why was I so focused on the opera glass?

Just as I was wondering that myself, the student spoke.

“Aren’t you here to watch the match too, mister?”

A sharp observation.

I gave an awkward little laugh, but Asil didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.

He asked in that unmistakably police-like tone,

“Where are you from? What school?”

“School’s already over. I came right after class.”

She tugged down the hem of her gray skirt that covered her knees.

“I didn’t even have time to change. See? The school badge is right here. And my nametag.”

Under the crest stitched onto her blazer was a yellow tag that read Marie. The name was written in plain letters. After checking it, Asil’s frown deepened.

“Do you even know what kind of place this is? A student shouldn’t be here alone.”

His stern lecture didn’t seem to faze Marie at all.

She looked up at him with an expression that said she truly didn’t understand.

“Why not?”

“For one, it’s illegal. And this place is crawling with bad people. Minors like you, who can’t defend themselves, have no idea what could happen here.”

“But I love these matches!”

A smile spread across her face — so radiant it made you hesitate for a second just looking at it.

It was pure, genuine joy.

“Creatures versus illegal grafted fighters! Isn’t it thrilling and fun?”

“If that’s what you want to see, go to a movie theater or watch YouTube.”

“But neither is as exciting as seeing it live.”

Marie didn’t lose her smile.

I watched her raise the opera glass toward her eyes, brimming with anticipation for the match about to start. She clearly wasn’t hearing a word of the man beside her scowling in disapproval.

Something about her felt off.

Then she lowered the glass again and turned back toward us.

“My father was an illegal enhanced-body owner too.”

“Ah.”

“He used to show off his strength at home all the time — to me and my mom. But one day...”

The plain-looking girl’s smile widened.

As the arena grew louder, Marie’s face gleamed with certainty as she finished her sentence.

“One day, a Creature stomped him flat like a bug!”

Waaaah!

The roar of the crowd exploded around us.

Looking up, I saw the main MC appear in the arena. A typical white man — slicked-back blond hair, unnaturally pale smile.

Dressed in a tuxedo, he waved to the audience from atop a massive drone.

A holographic screen appeared beside him — a giant betting board, numbers shifting in real time until they blurred the eyes.

Disgusting.

I frowned, and behind me Bobby’s voice shouted,

“You need to go!”

Ricardo and Bobby were right behind us.

Bobby grabbed Asil’s arm, scowling.

“Go on! I’ll handle the girl!”

“See you later, Marie~.”

Ricardo smiled, eyes curving, beside Bobby as she tugged Asil away.

He acted like someone who’d seen plenty of thrill-seeking students sneaking into matches out of twisted curiosity. Ignoring the MC’s exaggerated shouting — “Finally! It’s back! Against all odds, it’s here again, right before your eyes!” — Ricardo looked down at Marie.

“When the match’s over, want to grab a hot dog with us~?”

Marie blinked several times.

After a short pause, she nodded. While she agreed, Asil slipped out of the arena quickly, pushed by Bobby’s insistence that they’d handle things from here.

Ricardo kept chatting with Marie.

The sound was deafening — like being inside a massive concert hall, the air thick and stale.

While the seniors busied themselves, I scanned the betting boards and the ecstatic crowd. Supposedly, the police would soon storm in to arrest everyone, but I doubted that could go smoothly.

People would get trampled for sure. Some would have weapons.

Could this really work...?

Someone tugged at my elbow.

“Hey.”

It was Marie’s voice.

Now both seniors were sitting beside her. I smiled faintly as I watched her hand Bobby a tub of caramel popcorn.

“What is it?”

“Let’s watch together, then go out for hot dogs.”

She said it brightly, like a student at a baseball game.

Then she smiled — a fresh, dazzling smile that felt utterly different from the usual rebellious thrill-seekers who came here.

The smile grew wider.

“The first match is about to start!”

The sound of the metal gate opening.

The crowd’s roar suddenly dimmed. The EDM track cut off mid-beat. Watching the girl’s bright eyes, I slowly turned my head toward the arena. My sharpened hearing caught the sounds of movement — hesitant footsteps, the heavy tread of something emerging from behind the bars.

The MC’s voice rang out.

[The first match begins!]

The crowd erupted again.

***

The first match ended quickly.

I hadn’t expected the ex-Elder target to appear right away. The first victim was merely a drug-addicted illegal grafted man. Maybe he’d sold his body in desperation to pay his debts. Or maybe there was a story I couldn’t guess.

Either way, he died miserably — his head crushed open.

The boar-like Creature with its mouth split up to its ears devoured the scattered brain matter from the arena floor.

“Oh, that was too short! What a shame.”

Marie sighed, lowering her opera glass onto her lap.

“Can’t we watch just one more match before leaving?” she murmured wistfully.

“You’ve got a peculiar taste~.”

Ricardo chuckled softly, arms crossed, one leg over the other.

Bobby, sitting beside the girl, couldn’t hide her discomfort. Her expression twisted as she glanced sidelong at Marie.

Ricardo, on the other hand, was unbothered — the faintly sharp smile still on his lips as his eyes drifted back to the arena.

I watched him, like observing someone half-watching a boring holiday movie.

“What are you looking at~?”

“You look bored, sir.”

At my blunt reply, his green eyes rolled lazily toward me.

I met that vivid gaze head-on.

“All of this,” he said.

The roar of the crowd signaled the second match.

Ricardo turned back to the arena, his expression unreadable.

I followed his gaze — the second fighter was stepping out, facing a wolf-like Creature with a split jaw.

After a long silence, he added roughly,

“These bastards always pull the same shit...”

He must’ve meant the crime syndicates running this place.

“The cops are taking their sweet time... Once this one’s over, let’s head out for a bit...”

The second fighter wasn’t Colton’s intended victim either.

He looked like someone who’d lost himself — crushed under the weight of self-consciousness and reality. His every move felt forced, unnatural.

But unlike the first man, he wanted to live. He gripped his weapon tight, struggling to survive.

He failed.

The Creature ate him alive.

Bones cracked, muscles tore — the sound filled the arena.

The madmen had even attached a microphone to the Creature’s back.

Ricardo still wore his same languid smile.

“So, hot dogs~?”

When the screaming stopped, he stood up with that same casual cheer, looking down at Bobby, whose appetite was clearly gone, and at Marie, who looked utterly delighted.

“If we wait too long, there’ll be a line. Come on.”

We left the arena.

The noise dropped away instantly. Darkness replaced the glare. As the elevator descended and we stepped out of the building, the cold night air rushed in.

I felt a small sense of relief at the open space.

Even that distant food truck looked strangely welcoming.

The hot dog truck was parked to the left of the beer stand.

We walked toward it, across an almost empty stretch where only the truck’s lights cut through the dark. The cold wind stung our cheeks as we reached it.

There was only one item on the menu.

Ricardo ordered enough for everyone.

Five hot dogs sank into the oil together. While they sizzled and browned, Asil came running — Bobby must have called him.

“Take the girl with you,” Bobby said, spotting him in the dark.

The senior, who’d sprinted there in a single breath, gave Marie a complicated look before nodding.

“Yes. Seems like the operation’s taking longer than expected...”

“Tell them to hurry up. Their incompetence isn’t surprising, but still...”

“I’m pushing them.”

“Here.”

Marie suddenly thrust a hot dog toward him.

“They’re ready!”

Golden and crisp, dusted with sugar and drizzled with ketchup.

The seniors paused their conversation to take them. Marie held out each stick one by one — Bobby first, then Asil, reluctant but accepting, then Ricardo with his usual light smile.

And then me.

She held out the freshly fried hot dog toward me.

I smiled faintly and reached out.

“Thank y—”

Ah!

What was that?

My eyes widened instinctively.

What just happened?

The back of my hand stung.

“A bug?”

Did a mosquito bite me?

As I lifted my hand to check, I noticed police approaching from a distance.

“You there, young lady! Come here immediately!”

That voice — familiar, annoyingly so.

I glanced sideways. Regina, hands shoved in her bomber jacket, was swaggering toward us with a scowl.

“Do you even know what kind of place this is?” she barked.

A brief scuffle followed.

The girl refused to go with them; Regina refused to let go. They argued in front of the food truck for a while.

While Regina’s harsh tone, Asil’s grumbling, and Bobby’s nagging filled the air, I kept staring at my hand.

Weird.

It definitely stung — but where was the mark?

Since meeting Jaeyeon again, my senses had sharpened enough to feel even a mosquito’s needle pierce, yet there wasn’t a single bite mark on my skin.

It wasn’t my imagination...

I kept examining my hand until Marie finally relented and agreed to go with Regina.

Ricardo’s quiet question pulled me back.

“What are you staring at?”

Lifting my head to meet his gaze, I caught Marie waving goodbye beside Regina, Bobby waving half-heartedly and muttering, “Kid’s completely off her rocker.”

Then I saw it — and my eyes widened.

“Ricardo.”

My sharpened sight caught it — tiny wounds on my seniors’ hands. The kind of marks they probably couldn’t even feel anymore after years of desensitizing work.

Tiny punctures where a needle had gone in and out.

“Why isn’t the bleeding stopping?”

A pinpoint bead of blood had welled up on the back of each of their hands.