The bathroom was quiet now, but it reeked of blood and sweat. Myunggi stood hunched over, his chest heaving, his bloodied fork still clenched in his trembling hand. Thanos lay crumpled on the floor, his eyes wide open, a dark pool forming under him him. Myunggi’s face was smeared with blood—some his own, most not. His lip was split, one eye swelling shut, and his green tracksuit was soaked through.

He stumbled back, dropping the fork with a noise that echoed off the walls. His hands were shaking, yet he forced himself to move. He had to find Junhee. He stumbled into the hallway, past the dead bodies, past the chaos that had erupted. The guards had come in shooting, but it was too late for many. He didn’t care about them. He only cared about you.

He found you huddled under a bunk, eyes wide, clutching your knees to your chest. You looked up at him, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if you recognized him. He dropped to his knees beside you, wincing as a pang of pain ran through his ribs.

“Junhee,” he rasped, his voice raw. “You okay? Did they hurt you?”

You nodded, barely. He reached out, hesitated, then gently touched your arm. “I killed him,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked down at his bloodied hands, then back at you.

“Thanos. He’s dead.”