Nothing...? She wrote nothing?

Deon stared at Vivian, trying to read the lie on her face. It had to be there somewhere—a faint twitch in the eye, the slight curl of the lip, or a careless shrug that would prove it.

But he suddenly realized...that all those gestures, all those signs, were taught to him by Vivian.

She simply stared at him, but no longer looked as playful as before. It almost looked like her expression was placed there by habit, a mask worn for so long that even she might not know how to take it off anymore.

"What the hell does that—"

But before he could finish his sentence, a voice cut across the park.

"Please!"

Everyone turned to the source. Beyond the translucent barrier, two figures stumbled through the scorched trees and into the open plaza.

One was an elderly woman, short and hunched, with gray hair spilling loose from a ruined bun. Her cardigan was torn at the sleeves, and she looked like she was barely able to walk properly.

The other was a woman in office clothes, probably in her thirties. Her blouse was stained with dirt and blood, one heel missing from her shoe as she half-dragged the old woman forward.

Her eyes were wide, frantic, and already wet with tears before she even reached the barrier.

The moment she saw the Flag planted in the Chair, the seven people standing inside, and the glowing barrier separating them, her expression broke.

"No..." she whispered.

Then she threw herself forward, both palms slamming against the barrier. Blue light rippled beneath her hands.

"Wait! Please, wait! Let us in!"

Deon’s eyes moved instinctively to the panel floating near the Flag.

[Claim Phase]

[Time Remaining: 03:42]

The office worker saw him look.

Maybe that was why her attention snapped to him immediately. Or maybe it was because the others had unconsciously gone quiet and turned his way, as if waiting for him to answer first.

"You’re the leader, right?" she said quickly, voice shaking. "Please, let us in. We couldn’t find another Chair. There’s no time left."

The twins behind Vivian looked away from the barrier at the same time. The high school boy swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the ground.

Vivian did nothing, simply watching his decision.

The office worker pressed harder against the barrier. "Please! We’ll do anything! Anything, okay? Just let us register. We can help. I—I have office experience, I can organize things, I can keep track of supplies, I can—"

"Seven," Deon cut her off. "There are already seven people."

"Then remove someone!"

Hana flinched just as one of the twins stumbled backwards.

The mohawk guy’s brows furrowed. "Hey."

The office worker shook her head quickly, realizing how it sounded. "No, I mean—please. Please, just think about this. She’s old."

She pulled the elderly woman closer, almost presenting her.

The old woman lifted her head weakly, lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but the office worker spoke over her.

"She can barely stand. She won’t survive out here. You can’t just leave an elderly person to die."

"What kind of person does that? You’re young. You can still fight. You can still run. She can’t!"

Her eyes flicked toward the others, searching for sympathy. "There has to be some kind of priority, right? The elderly should be protected first. That’s basic decency."

When nobody answered her, she looked back toward Deon, expression becoming worse by the second.

"Please...say something..."

But after a few moments—

"What, are you just going to stand there? Do you not have morals? What happened to respecting your elders? What happened to helping people weaker than you?"

"Did this place already turn you into a monster?"

Deon could feel Hana staring at him even though he hadn’t turned toward her. But it wasn’t just Hana, it was everyone on his team.

And, of course, the chat.

[ChairGoblin_22: seven seats nine people gg]

[SaintOfSecondChances: Save them. Please.]

[AuraMonster: Let us see what Little Day chooses.]

Deon closed the chat with a thought, the messages vanished from his sight. He then sighed, already knowing the shape of this far too well.

People who had nothing left loved borrowing the face of someone weaker. They held them up like a shield and called it morality. They made refusal feel like murder.

They turned survival into shame and shame into a leash. And once they had it around his throat...they would pull until he stopped breathing.

...

"Okay."

The singular word came out freely and quickly.

"What?" the office worker froze.

Deon nodded slowly. "You’re right. The elderly should be protected at all costs." 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The woman stared at him, hope and suspicion clashed on her expression until one finally won out: hope.

But that was before Deon completely ripped it out of her again.

He pointed at the old woman, voice just as calm as before. "I’ll kick out one of mine, but I’ll only take the grandma."

His eyes narrowed before finally finding what he was looking for. It was a gesture so small that many people might’ve missed it.

But Deon saw the way her fingers clenched before she realized what she had done. He saw the way her eyes darted from the old woman to the barrier, then to the timer, then back to Deon.

[Claim Phase: 01:18]

"I..." she swallowed. "That’s not what I meant."

"No?"

"She can’t survive alone!"

"She won’t be alone. She’ll be with us."

"That’s not—"

"You said she should get priority," Deon said. "I’m agreeing with you."

"No...no..." the office worker stumbled back a couple steps, hands gripping tightly on the elderly woman. "No...you’re trying to trick me! You’re twisting my words!"

"Let her go then," Deon demanded. "I’m doing what you asked."

Hana’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

The mohawk guy shifted uncomfortably, but everyone knew what was about to happen. "Shit...she’s not letting go."

"SHUT UP!" she snapped at the man immediately.

[Claim Phase: 00:47]

Her face went pale. For a second, she looked like she might release her. But in the end...fear won.

"No, no, wait. Please." The office worker slammed her palms against the barrier again. "Please, there has to be another way. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!"

[Claim Phase: 00:21]

The old woman gently touched her wrist.

"Dear..."

"No!" the office worker screamed, shaking her head. "Don’t say that! Don’t you dare say that!"

[00:15]

Deon didn’t look away, no matter how much he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But if he looked away now, it would mean he was still trying to hide behind the same kind of moral fog she had used on him.

So he watched...

[00:08]

The office worker sobbed openly now, forehead pressed against the barrier. "Please..."

The old woman looked past her and at Deon. Her eyes were tired, but strangely gentle.

[00:03]

She opened her mouth, lips parting—

[00:02]

"I’m proud. To have the next generation be led by you."

[00:01]

"There’s no greater honor."

Ding!

[Claim Phase Complete.]

[Team 6 has successfully claimed Mihan Park.]

The office worker’s fingertips began to crumble.

At first, she didn’t understand. She only stared down at her hands, watching gray flakes peel away from her skin and drift upward into the air.

"No..."

Her hands vanished to the knuckles.

"No, no, no, no!"

She slammed what remained of her palms against the barrier, but pieces of her continued breaking apart. Her sleeves collapsed inward as her arms thinned into ash.

"You did this!" she screamed at Deon. "You killed us!"

"You could have saved us! You could’ve done something! You just stood there!"

Her arms were gone to the elbows now. Her shoulders began to fade.

"You’re a monster!" she shrieked. "You hear me?! A monster! I hope you die! I hope they rip you apart! I hope everyone sees what kind of person you really are!"

Her face started to crumble last, but hatred remained there until the very end. Then...she was gone. Only ash remained, drifting upward before dissolving into the air.

The old woman was fading too, yet she didn’t scream or curse. She simply looked at Deon through the barrier, her body breaking apart piece by piece.

She simply smiled.

Deon didn’t know how such a small gesture could instill such calmness within him. But with it, his inner gate, which had been so carefully blocked off, had been opened—

And guilt started pouring freely.

Deon’s fingers curled slowly at his side, only one thing running through his mind that he could muster.

It was simply:

"I’m sorry."