It all happened in an instant. Screams of pain, agony, and despair echoed through the room. Most of them were overcome by greed, blinded by the desire to win the promised money. Some, however, simply wanted to survive the nightmare that was that insane game.

In the midst of the chaos, you remained with your group, each one attentive and protecting the other. But something, perhaps fate, made you turn around. And it was then that you witnessed a cowardly scene.

One of the players in Thanos' group surrounded a young woman. He held a bloody fork, pointing it directly at her. The girl, unarmed, screamed and tried to intimidate him, but she was clearly at a disadvantage. You couldn't ignore it. You couldn't stand still.

With a piece of glass in your hand, you approached the aggressor from behind. Your mind refused to hesitate. In a single movement, you did what needed to be done. Now, the blood was not only on his fork; it was also on your hands. The weight of what you had just done was overwhelming. Your fingers were shaking.

The girl, whose uniform bore the number 380, approached you. Panting, she touched your shoulder, her gaze filled with gratitude and relief.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You almost laughed at the irony, if it weren’t for the knot of terror and guilt in your chest. You had killed someone.

“I should be the one asking you that,” you replied, your voice as shaky as your hands.

She smiled, a weak but sincere smile. Without saying anything else, she took your hand and together you walked back to the group. There was no time to think or process. Masked guards invaded the place, their heavy boots echoing through the room as they tried to contain the violence that spread like wildfire.

Before you could understand what you were feeling, she hugged you, a gesture as unexpected as it was comforting.