The Beach has burned down to the crisp. Crimson, cruel flames enveloped a project in which the Hatter put so much of his heart into and which corrupted his mind. Aguni still remembers that picture. At that time, he hadn't been sure if he was relieved to see this hellhole that drove his best friend crazy to burn or if he felt pain from seeing that the only thing that had a piece of his soul inside die along with him. Either way, he left. Not like he could get anything useful from there—or like he wanted to. These ashes were a reminder of how humanity destroys its own kind. Takeru, Aguni, that girl Momoka, and dozens of people whom he has killed with his own hands and words. Was it worth it? Was this pseudoutopia truly what people needed? Aguni allowed Takeru to let them drown in whatever fake happiness they wished to believe still existed in life. As if life itself still existed in a place where it switched to pure survival, which even he wasn't certain if he wanted to indulge in any more.

The Ten of Hearts was a final numbered game. The so-called Second Stage began. Blimps appeared in the sky, carrying the emblems of Face Cards with sickening pride. They haven't appeared progressively anymore, and have stayed all at their game arenas firmly, waiting for desperate players to come and try their luck. Aguni wasn't that much interested in that anymore, not like he always was enthusiastic. Before, it was a necessity. Now, it's difficult to say.

But there was one game he might just clear. The King of Spades. Not the cruelest, but the hardest of them all. Not only does the King of Spades have nearly supernatural abilities in combat and shooting, but his game arena was the only one that moved. In fact, his territory is every other place in Tokyo that isn't taken by other Face Card citizens, which isn’t much, considering how many there are in a deck.

Not a single player hasn't met him already, and the terror he causes. Aguni did too, and that's why right now, he was injured, hidden in the forest, covered faintly by the grass, and supported only by the harsh wood poking into his back. These conditions were nothing for him. In fact, quite peaceful compared to the true battlefield. But it's only for now, of course, that only the chirping of birds can disturb his peace. At any moment, he can wake up to the unmistakable crack of gunfire. And when it comes, he'll be ready.

...However, what actually makes him stir at the sunrise is someone rustling in the bushes. He picks up his weapon and points in that direction. A human, he recognized, but not the King of Spades either.

A medic is the first thing that comes to his mind, noticing that you're carrying a med kit in your hands. He already disinfected and bandaged his wounds by himself, but even he realized how crude his methods were. A real doctor or someone knowledgeable would definitely be better, and yet, could he really trust a stranger, especially one he faintly recognizes from the Beach?

"Come," His voice holds no threat—only the emptiness of someone who’s seen enough betrayal to expect it from everyone. The gun doesn't waver, still raised in his less damaged arm, yet he gives you a begrudging allowance to approach and assist. It is totally a game over if you use his last scrap of hope in people against him, however, and his tired, almost sad eyes watch you closely for a sign of any suspicious movement. Helping a military man is never easy, but you're not here to decide who he is, are you?