Dying again.
How many times has it been now?
It was starting to feel routine.
All that sweat. All that blood. All that training—
and it still ended the same way.
I opened my eyes.
The hotel room.
Andrew in the chair—awake this time.
Clyde on the other side of the bed, sitting too straight, too still, staring into nothing.
"You're up?" Andrew noticed first, already moving closer. "How do you feel?"
His hand pressed against my forehead—
warm.
For a moment, I almost closed my eyes again—
just to stay there.
But Clyde shifted.
And Storik pulled his hand away immediately.
"I've done my job," Samantha said sharply. "I'm going back to the academy. At this rate, I'm turning into Holivan's personal doctor."
Strange.
I didn't feel any pain.
The IV needle was still in my arm, the blood bag barely half empty.
"Leave it. You lost too much," Clyde said flatly as I reached for it.
"But I feel fine! Thank you, Samantha—you're amazing. I'm really glad it was you who treated me."
I pulled the needle out anyway.
Just like that, her irritation melted into a shy smile.
"…impossible to stay mad at you," she muttered under her breath. "Charming little devil…"
"Not exactly the ideal bodyguard, is he, Clydie?" Maurice's voice cut in lazily.
I hadn't even noticed them.
He and Blocking sat across the room.
The moment my eyes met Blocking's—
a chill ran down my spine.
He noticed.
Smiled.
Like he enjoyed it.
"Don't call me that," Clyde hissed, voice low and sharp.
"Still," Maurice went on, unbothered, "you should drop him now. Fewer problems later."
"That's none of your concern."
"On the contrary," Maurice said, leaning back. "I find him interesting. Defiant. Stubborn. Skittish like a kitten."
A faint smile.
"Quite the combination."
"Stay away from him."
"Clyde," Storik cut in sharply.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Noticeably.
"Why didn't Volkin come to the exhibition matches?" I asked suddenly.
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
I didn't even know why I asked.
Maybe I just needed to break the tension.
Or maybe—
I was avoiding the questions that actually mattered.
Because now I understood.
Why Clyde warned me about Blocking.
What I didn't understand—
was whether he knew the truth.
Or was just guessing.
From the way he looked at Maurice—
there was history there.
And hatred.
Deep.
Unresolved.
I wanted to ask.
Everything.
But instead—
I asked something else.
"Volkin?" Storik recovered first. "He went on a mission. Got injured. But he'll be fine."
"A mission? We were released from all assignments during the trials."
"Family mission," Storik said. "You know what kind of family he comes from. Their work doesn't depend on the academy. He chose it himself."
"So," Blocking stood, smiling as if nothing had happened, "my bodyguard is back on his feet. Shall we continue?"
"He's not going anywhere," Clyde snapped, eyes flicking toward Maurice with open hostility, "as long as that thing is still here."
"What I do—and who I associate with—is not your decision, Silius," Blocking said, his expression turning cold. "Come along, Alan. I'd like to return and arrange accommodations for Maurice."
I stood—
but Clyde was already there.
Grabbing my arm.
"Clydie," Maurice said softly, smiling, "you're only making this more interesting."
His head tilted slightly.
"You hover too much. Won't even let the boy breathe."
A pause.
"Or are you afraid he might choose someone else?"
Another pause.
"Is this… love?"
Something flickered in his voice—
too brief to catch.
"Has your revenge-obsessed heart finally melted?"
"Love?" Clyde laughed sharply.
"You of all people should know—we're not capable of it."
His voice dropped.
Cold.
Controlled.
"The only person who ever loved me… the only one I ever cared about…"
A beat.
"…is dead."
Silence.
"Because of you."
Maurice didn't smile.
Not this time.
"There's still so much you don't understand," he said quietly.
And there it was.
Not mockery.
Not this time.
Something else.
Something heavier.
"People like us… we love deeper than anyone else."
His gaze shifted.
"You'll understand. When you lose someone you'd give up everything for."
He turned away.
"Let's go, Kogon. I'm done here."
"Sorry," I said, slipping free from Clyde's grip. "I have to go. See you tomorrow."
We left.
I didn't want to follow them.
Not after what I'd learned.
Blocking—
a demon.
Maurice—
almost certainly the same.
That explained Clyde's hatred.
But what happened between them?
Who did he lose?
And why—
did I feel like this might be my only chance to find out?
"Mr. Winslow," I said carefully, "may I ask you something… personal?"
"I can guess," he said, glancing at the hovering camera. "But not now."
I nodded.
"I'll find you after the trial," he continued. "But information comes at a price."
"I don't have much money, but—"
"I don't want your money."
His eyes flicked toward me.
"You'll learn the price later."
A pause.
"And when you do—you won't have time to think."
A deal with a demon.
Everyone knew what that meant.
A mistake.
A fatal one.
But Clyde wouldn't tell me anything.
If I wanted answers—
I had to take the risk.
What did I even have left to lose?
Images flashed—
My friends.
Andrew.
The academy.
Clyde.
…Clyde.
No.
I did have something to lose.
But I doubted the price would touch them.
Except—
maybe him.
"Wake up, little Alan," Blocking's voice cut through my thoughts. "Time to stretch."
I moved instantly—
just in time to knock aside the fake knife aimed straight at his eye.