This wasn't going to turn into a bigger problem later, was it?

I tensed, but my seniors apparently took the opposite view. Bobby and Achille in particular looked much more at ease, relaxing their rigid bodies. Bobby even came over to ask me a question.

"You don't use social media at all?"

Honestly, I didn't understand why I should take selfies. When I told her as much, Bobby blinked and studied my face. Fortunately, she seemed to have recovered somewhat from the blow. She blinked again, then clicked her tongue.

"What a waste. With that face, you'd get quite a following. You look like that and don't want to take pictures?"

"Pardon? No... Not particularly... It's my face either way."

"Doesn't looking at pictures make you feel good?"

"Pictures of my face?"

I saw my face in the mirror every day. What was there to feel good about? When I gave her a puzzled look, Bobby snorted. She stepped back, sounding regretful.

"It would've been nice if they'd put at least one picture up there."

Why? The others were perfectly good-looking, too... I was about to say so when the emcee's voice interrupted.

["Their matches will be our grand finale!"]

"Boooo!"

The emcee merely smiled cheerfully through the chorus of boos. I really wanted to go over and punch him. Not that the spectators sitting out there were any better.

I turned back toward the empty arena. The emcee reined in his delighted laughter and continued his explanation.

["And their matches will follow a slightly different format from usual!"]

What?

["They came to the arena together, so it's only fair we let them compete together. Oh! Of course, we won't have all four in the arena at once. You wouldn't know where to look!"]

A team match? Was the Hildebert Taleb meat-shield strategy an option? At this glimmer of hope, I craned my neck.

The emcee continued his simple explanation.

["They'll enter the arena in the order they were introduced!"]

That meant Bobby, Achille, Riccardo, and finally me.

["And contestants may forfeit their match and pass their opponent on to the next contestant. If they so choose!"]

Jackpot. It suddenly felt as though brilliant light was shining down on me. That left nothing in the way of the meat-shield plan. Especially since I'd been lucky enough to be placed last.

I suspected I'd been put last because I'd provoked Mick. Thank goodness I'd gotten under his skin back then.

My face lit up. Riccardo seemed to be glaring at me, but I pretended not to notice.

["As you know, our final contestant is a completely green recruit. A rookie who must have joined the Badgers full of conviction. That's right! We're going to see for ourselves just how much Black Badgers love their juniors!"]

Excellent! Inwardly, I joined the roar of cheers. Then I turned, satisfied, and found Riccardo smiling radiantly.

... A little scary.

But being put through my paces by a training officer who wanted to cut me open had made me bolder lately. Besides, this wasn't something I could keep quiet about just because I was scared. Three seniors' lives were at stake.

I met Riccardo's bright smile with one of my own.

"Sir."

"Yeees?"

["The matches will resume after a fifteen-minute break!"]

The emcee fell silent, and frenetic music began to play. Bobby and Achille, who had been watching the arena, came over.

Ignoring the other contestants in the waiting room, we gathered near the bench. I dragged my still-unsteady body over and propped one knee on it. Standing awkwardly like that, I addressed the seniors beside me.

"I'd like to propose something."

"Well, let's hear it..."

Riccardo took a lighter out of his pocket. He looked displeased, but I didn't let it bother me. At least I was in a good mood. Better than before, anyway. Making no particular effort to hide it, I announced,

"The Hildebert Taleb Meat-Shield Plan!"

Riccardo blew a stream of cigarette smoke into my face.

How mean. But as a cigar smoker, I could take cigarette smoke without batting an eye. Instead of coughing, I took in Achille's blank stare, Bobby's round eyes, and Riccardo's murderous smile.

"If things start looking dangerous while you're fighting, just pass the opponent along!"

"Awfully confident for someone so half-baked, aren't you?"

"With all due respect, you're not even half-baked yourselves at the moment."

I made the point prepared to take a hit. Fortunately, no one struck me. But Achille's expression, merely startled until now, twisted into a scowl. He glared at me.

"Who's your training officer?"

"Choi Yun."

Achille was briefly at a loss for words. When he failed to mount an attack, Riccardo joined in.

"That means you'd have to fight at least four... You struggle with even one. You think you can handle four at once?"

"I've improved quite a bit since then. Please trust me this once."

"And you have no intention of trusting us?"

Riccardo's retort was cold. I'd expected something like that. But I had no intention of backing down.

Jaeyeon's interference was what had made things worse. I knew I wouldn't die here. But these three had no such guarantee.

Frenetic EDM kept pouring in. Flashing lights. Acrid cigarette smoke. Amid sensations that refused to settle, I spoke calmly.

"I heal the fastest out of everyone here. This is the most rational approach."

"Your training officer couldn't possibly have taught you to behave like this."

"Yun has always taught me to think rationally."

I answered Achille's stern remark without missing a beat. I wasn't about to concede a single point. I could give way on everything else, but not this.

Come on. Value your lives!

"I really have thought this through rationally."

"Unpopular opinion."

Bobby, who'd kept quiet through the tense exchange, raised her right hand. We turned to look at her. Her blond hair caught my eye; at some point, she'd twisted it back up. She blinked, then spoke slowly.

"I think the rookie has a point."

"Bobby!"

Was she a genius or what? I cheered, while Achille's brow furrowed. Riccardo heaved a tremendous sigh and pressed his thumb repeatedly between his eyebrows as though he had a headache.

I beamed at Bobby as she lowered her hand, an odd expression on her face.

"Excellent judgment."

"Look, I'm still going to hold out as long as I can, okay?"

She firmly caught my shoulder as I smiled brightly. The lack of strength in her grip brought our situation home to me all over again. Whatever happened, I had to drag these people out of the arena alive.

Whether she knew what I was thinking or not, Bobby tightened her grip.

"I will. I'll really hold out to the bitter end, but if I can't, I'm counting on you. I can trust you, right? You can't say all this, go off and die, and haunt my dreams for the rest of my life, okay?"

"Yes. I promise I won't die. No matter what happens."

"As if that's up to you."

Achille broke in, the anger still on his face. The emotion in his tired eyes was unmistakable. I knew my words had rubbed them the wrong way. It wasn't that I couldn't understand their anger.

But I thought I had a right to be angry, too. All the more so because, though I couldn't explain it, I knew I was the only one certain not to die. Their lack of faith in me hurt a little as well. Were they telling me to stand by and watch them die?

"I don't want my dreams to be the only place I can see you, either."

At my quiet reply, Achille pressed his lips into a thin line. With the argument turning in my favor, I moved to secure my victory.

"I'm not doing this out of bravado. I'm doing it because it's the most rational approach. All three of you know that."

Silence settled over us. Grating noise battered our ears. The waiting room flashed blue, then white, then red. We stood motionless in that unpleasant place for a long time.

Until Riccardo, smoking with his head bowed, let out a stream of smoke. The snake-shaped ring on his finger melted.

"Hildebert."

Riccardo raised his head and looked at me.

"What kind of sword do you use?"

The moment his ominous voice fell silent, silver liquid flowed toward me. I watched it turn into a sword at my feet. Slowly, building upon itself bit by bit, the shape-shifting weapon took the form of a blade, then fashioned a silver hilt.

An elegant longsword. Its graceful blade resembled the swords Riccardo and his close friend Jonathan Kudo used.

I reached out with a faint smile.

"I've used slightly thicker swords."

I lifted the sword out of the floor, taking in Achille and Bobby's surprise and Riccardo's appraising gaze.

"But any longsword will do."

You couldn't pick and choose your weapons on a battlefield. The Hildebert meat-shield strategy was underway.

* * *

We weren't dragged out right away. We were the main course. Our turn would only come after everyone else in the waiting room had been taken out.

There were three illegal enhanced-body recipients in the room: a woman in the far corner clawing at her hair, a man on the floor snorting what looked like drugs, and a man sitting utterly motionless on a bench.

Before, their matches would have been exciting enough. Now, they were merely a sideshow. We were the main attraction. The audience was eagerly awaiting the sight of Black Badgers dragged into the arena, rendered powerless by Green Dream.

Because they hated us. Because we didn't die of old age.

Because Black Badgers didn't have to feel the despair they felt. At least, that was what those people believed. That Badgers would never know the helplessness and fear of everyday life, or the urgency and emptiness that came with having a finite lifespan.

And they couldn't accept that. Looking at Badgers made them feel deprived, and that feeling soon turned to hatred.

The eternal youth everyone so desperately desired. What we'd brought with us when we crossed over.

That this would become a problem, I was certain...

"Prometheus."

As I loosened up in the middle of the waiting room, a familiar word reached my ears. I whipped my head toward the man sitting on the bench.

"Let's talk."

I found the owner of the voice. Tousled silver hair and blue eyes. The elder ousted by my old, troublesome friend.