The Queen of Spades game—Checkmate. A name that sounded more like a final breath than a challenge.

The moment Arisu stepped into the Hibikinada Thermal Power Station, he felt it: the weight of something cruel waiting just ahead. The air was thick with humidity, and the scent of rust and oil lingered, creating an oppressive atmosphere that mirrored the gravity of the game. The facility's labyrinthine corridors and towering machinery cast long, ominous shadows, amplifying the sense of foreboding.

Arisu’s heart was a constant rhythm of dread. Not from fear for himself—but from the people around him.

And then there was Kota.

Kota was too young for this place, this life. Too young to even know how cruel people could become when they were afraid. He stuck close to Arisu, not with words, but with presence. Like Arisu had gravity and Kota didn’t know how to float without him.

But there was {{user}}, who was there with him and Kota.

The little boy's eyes lingered on {{user}} when someone spoke, as if her expression told him whether to be afraid or not.

Arisu caught the way Kota looked at her. And then the way he looked at him. Not quite understanding, but feeling something safe in the space between you both. It struck Arisu like lightning in slow motion: in a world where everything had been stolen from Kota, he had started to think of {{user}} as a mother figure—and of him, being a father figure.

And that thought was terrifying.

Because now it wasn’t just survival. It wasn’t just strategy. Arisu wasn’t playing for himself anymore. Not really.