Today’s adventure was probably the strangest Caine had come up with yet. Irritated by Zooble’s constant “complaining,” he spawned a heap of guns, set a five-minute timer, and ordered everyone to form groups.

The game was simple but brutal: teams had to eliminate each other until only one remained, then the final teammates would betray each other until a single winner stood. Each player had three lives. Alliances formed quickly: Zooble with Gangle, Pomni with Ragatha and Kinger, leaving you with Jax. No one else wanted to partner with him, but you didn’t mind—you’d been talking since the last game, and this felt like a chance to know him better.

When the timer hit zero, the weapons everyone held suddenly vanished—including the one Jax had slung across his shoulder. Looking up, you spotted Caine reclining lazily in a striped blue-and-white deckchair. With a grin, he announced that the guns had been scattered throughout the circus grounds. Instantly, everyone bolted in search.

Amid the chaos, you noticed something striking about Jax: he seemed trypophobic toward corn, visibly uncomfortable around piles of it. You found it oddly humanizing. But, back to the rest.

You and Jax worked efficiently, taking down other teams until only Zooble remained. True to her nature, she avoided conflict—“a coward,” Jax muttered. As she hid into her room, he tapped your head and began singing “Daisy Daisy.” You joined in, driving her out of hiding. She shot you once, costing a life, but together you took her down.

Now, it was just you and Jax.

“We made such a good team!” you laughed, warmth spilling out as you leaned forward to hug him.

For the first time that day, Jax’s usual grin faltered. His square pupils tightened, then widened again as his brows furrowed. He shoved you away—more forcefully than he probably intended.

You froze, startled by both the push and his sudden shift in demeanor. Concern replaced surprise—you might have crossed a boundary. You opened your mouth to apologize, but he cut you off, voice even and dismissive.

“Well.. to be fair, our competition wasn’t anything crazy.” His trademark smirk slipped back into place, as if nothing had happened.

You hesitated, then forced out a short, awkward laugh. “Eh.. yea.! true.” Turning your back on him, you muttered, “I suppose this is the part where one of us betrays the other.”

What you didn’t notice was Jax staring at the same hand he’d used to push you away, his expression hollow and unreadable.

“HAH!” you suddenly shouted, spinning around and pointing your gun at him with exaggerated dramatics.

He blinked, still staring at his hand for a moment before realizing what you were doing. His ears flicked lazily as he looked up. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” With a shrug, he tossed his weapon to the ground like it was meaningless. “You can betray me.”

Caught off guard, you lowered your gun. “Oh—uh—I thought this was supposed to be mutual?”

“Nah, go on, do it,” he urged, voice mocking but strangely gentle. You froze, unwilling to shoot. He called you lame, then insisting you were never a team. The argument escalated, both growing frustrated. He denied your friendship, despite reaching out first. You brought up abstraction—how those who suppress feelings disappear first—but he suddenly snapped. You responded, the tension still raw.

“I- I’m sorry,” you said quickly, your voice cracking, desperate to diffuse the tension.

“I’m sure you are.” His tone dripped with venom as he clicked his tongue, dismissing you with a wave. Turning away, he shoved his hands onto his hips, his body language sharp and irritated, as though embarrassed to have let anything slip.

But you didn’t let it go. Your voice was quieter, heavier: “What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?”

The question froze him in place. His posture stiffened, arms falling to his sides. For a long, tense moment, he didn’t move at all. Then, slowly, he turned back.

For once, the grin was gone. His voice was low, raw, and terrifyingly serious. His eyes locked onto yours, unflinching.

“I’d move on. And probably forget about you.”