The stadium lights stabbed at my eyes.

A heavy roar pounded against my ears. I squinted as Asil and Ricardo dragged me forward.

The pale corridor had already ended.

We arrived at a waiting area for contestants, separated from the arena by iron bars.

A few milky-white plastic benches stood inside the room. The front was barred; the back sealed by a solid wall.

There were two or three competitors sitting there, their faces hollow.

The mafia guards shoved us inside.

Bang!

The door slammed shut with a deafening noise.

Bobby frowned and turned around, but the two seniors supporting me didn’t even flinch at the sound.

They didn’t look back—just dragged me to a bench in the corner.

Soon enough, I was sitting down.

“Thank you.”

I muttered, satisfied that my vision had stopped swaying so much.

“I’m fine now.”

Ricardo snorted.

Asil completely ignored me. The silver-haired senior turned his body toward Ricardo instead.

The former detective spoke calmly.

“They’ll make it a solo match, right.”

“Most likely... they always do....”

[Everyone!]

A booming voice came from beyond the bars.

Heads in the room turned toward the sound. I narrowed my eyes against the flood of light pouring in from the arena.

The host himself wasn’t visible.

But his voice rang through perfectly clear.

[We have a special guest tonight!]

Ah...

Already cliché.

I wished he’d just get to the point.

Of course, he didn’t.

The unseen host, floating somewhere in the air, shouted in a thrilled tone.

[A match you’ll never see again! The showdown of the century! The moment you’ve all longed for deep in your hearts!]

Bobby, who had been glancing at the exit, approached with a dull expression.

She plopped down beside me, crossed her legs, and used her long nails to scratch at the mascara on her lashes.

Asil, arms folded, stared into the arena. Ricardo pulled out a cigarette and fiddled with it.

We just rolled our eyes and waited for the announcer’s rambling to end.

The introduction dragged on and on—flowery words, exaggerated praise—“thrilling,” “intense,” “unforgettable.”

[Black Badger!]

Waaah!

The arena shook with cheers.

As the roar rumbled through, I blurted,

“Are they giving us weapons?”

“They won’t~.”

Ricardo spoke around the unlit cigarette.

“More exciting that way....”

“If the order isn’t fixed, I’ll go first.”

Asil said without looking away from the arena.

I met his eyes—those cold, raging blue eyes.

“If there’s a choice, that is.”

[Let’s introduce our contestants!]

The host’s voice drowned Asil’s words.

My ears hurt. Bobby grumbled beside me in irritation. I craned my neck to see the giant screen flickering between the seats. Something seemed to appear on it—huge enough that from the bench near the bars, you could read it.

When I awkwardly rose from the bench, the seniors whipped their heads toward me.

It’s fine. Really.

“I just want to sit closer.”

[First contestant from Black Badger!]

Too loud to talk.

[Bobby Winter!]

The seniors froze.

So did I.

My eyes widened as I looked at the screen beyond the bars. Since I was standing, I could see part of it. On the screen at the center of the arena was a photo I recognized.

Her bright yellow hair elegantly tied up.

Bobby slowly got to her feet.

“What is that?”

Her voice trembled faintly.

“What the hell are they doing?”

[Bobby Winter. Physical age twenty-eight. Actual age fifty-four.]

Those bastards...

My stomach turned. I knew they were scum, and I knew our lives were in danger. I even suspected we might have to watch someone die.

But not this.

Not this kind of humiliation.

The host’s voice echoed across the arena.

[That’s right! Bobby Winter, Black Badger recruit! Daughter of Claudio Winter, owner of multiple restaurant chains including Goker, Walden Pie, and Humble! Few of you remember that she failed every model audition until she turned twenty-three—that’s thirty-one years ago now!]

“What is this? What are they saying?”

“Shut your ears. Nothing worth hearing.”

“Ma’am, don’t listen.”

[But some of you might recall! The rich blonde heiress who became a Badger, managed to keep her perfect skin thanks to her enhanced body, and—during missions—poses for paparazzi whenever a camera might catch her!]

Laughter and jeers spilled out.

[Yes! She’s the one who can’t give up on her dream of modeling—uploading flashy photos to SNS after every mission!]

The screen began flashing picture after picture—Bobby’s selfies, paparazzi shots, news photos—collected from who-knows-where, whizzing by at dizzying speed.

I felt sick.

I turned my head sharply toward her.

Then stepped to block the screen from her view.

“Don’t look, ma’am.”

“I’m not like that.”

Bobby’s face flushed scarlet. She gritted her teeth, her furious eyes glaring at the arena. Her clenched fists trembled.

She panted, then shouted,

“I never once posed during missions! I didn’t have time for that!”

“They mock you because you did nothing wrong.”

Ricardo’s voice was cold, stiff.

Hatred and disgust flared in his dark green eyes.

“They just needed something for the crowd to chew on. Winter, close your ears.”

[But perhaps this next one will interest you even more! More than a rich girl chasing failed dreams, this one’s name you all know!]

When I get out of here, I’ll make Jaeyeon pay.

I clenched my fists, swallowing my fury.

Still, the sleazy commentary went on. Bobby’s curse was drowned beneath the smooth, booming voice.

[Second contestant—Asil Fiscer, the traitor cop!]

Waaah!

We pretended not to notice Asil flinch.

And hated the fact that we couldn’t punch the host’s face to shut him up.

The vile voice resounded across the arena.

[Yes, dear Asil Fiscer. The one we all love to hate! Look at this photo—standing in shock at the site of the police chief’s assassination! What a shot! I told you it was Pulitzer-worthy, didn’t I? That’s him—the detective who failed to prevent a hit on the chief! The bodyguard who botched his duty and ran to the Badgers for safety! He alone survived! The police chief dead, his partner dead, but he—unscathed!]

My God.

So Jaeyeon had been his partner.

The realization struck like a blow. Seeing Asil’s ashen face, I understood what he’d endured.

Jaeyeon—

No, Colton—had killed the police chief. Using Jaeyeon’s own hands.

And Asil had witnessed it.

He should have died with them, but Jaeyeon’s capricious nature spared him.

Yet even when he told the truth, no one believed him. Those who did probably ended up dead or vanished. The rest branded him a liar or a lunatic.

That was why he left the police force—carrying a truth no one believed.

I stared blankly at the senior before me.

Asil stood motionless, his face drained of color, burning with rage.

None of the others moved either. Ricardo frowned, watching him in silence. Bobby covered her mouth, pale as chalk.

It took me a while before I managed to speak.

Looking into his blazing blue eyes, I rasped out,

“I believe you.”

Asil blinked.

I couldn’t promise to catch the real culprit or avenge anyone. But I could say the only thing that mattered.

“I believe the truth you saw.”

His eyes widened.

He couldn’t answer. And I had no chance to say more—jeers, cheers, and that disgusting voice filled every gap of silence.

[Third contestant—Ricardo Sordi!]

Waaahhh!

The loudest cheer yet rocked the arena.

Asil and I turned together. We looked at the senior standing there with arms folded—our veteran, the hero who’d survived the Second War.

He didn’t move an inch, just stared through the bars.

In the blinding white arena, a massive screen showed an old photograph—clearly taken outside Center Core.

Ricardo’s lips curved faintly.

His green eyes did not smile.

[Veteran hero of the Second War—Ricardo Sordi! Even if you don’t know the names Asil Fiscer or Bobby Winter, you’ve surely heard of Ricardo Sordi!]

The host didn’t shout this time.

But the quiet delight under his voice made my skin crawl.

[Black Badger’s pride! A master of both gun and spear! His sharp style and crescent-folding green eyes—fan favorites!]

The cheers and whistles swelled. The host’s slimy tone drowned them out.

[But few of you know he’s the son of a Sicilian mafia boss.]

Ah.

Ska’s words came back to me.

So this was it. I hadn’t wanted to know the details. I kept my eyes fixed on the arena, unable to face Ricardo. Even hearing Ska’s brief story had been heavy enough.

Now his private history was being broadcast for sport.

[Giovanni Sordi—legendary capo who revived a dying mafia family.]

A photo of the man, presumed to be Giovanni Sordi, appeared.

[Merciless to his rivals, but a man who loved his family above all.]

The host began reciting the man’s biography—loan sharking, narcotics, sex trade, gambling. Every crime lined up neatly, followed by sentimental anecdotes about family love.

Ricardo remained silent through it all.

He didn’t rage, didn’t even change expression.

Only after the host cheerfully concluded, “The legendary capo perished in the flames of war,” did Ricardo make a sound.

He chuckled softly.

“Thorough background check....”

“Sir.”

I couldn’t stop myself from calling to him.

He raised one brow, blank-faced.

The man who had looked after me since the day I fell from the sky—

But before I could say more, the mic boomed again.

[And our final contestant!]

Ah.

[The rookie everyone’s talking about!]

I turned my head.

The giant screen turned black.

It had been bright a second ago, now pitch dark—as if ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) it had never been on at all.

[No past photos. No records anywhere.]

The screen stayed dark.

[No parents, no birthplace, no trace of his existence before now.]

As if to say there was nothing to show.

A second life built on deception.

The crowd roared louder. I stared at the blank screen. People screamed at nothing, and the host’s triumphant voice thundered over them—

[Hildebert Taleb!]

In the piercing white light of the arena, my name echoed.