The summons came without warning. Your number appeared on the screen above the dorms—cold, unmistakable. No explanation. No time to ask questions. The guards escorted you through hallways you’d never seen before, far from the games, far from the noise.

When the doors finally opened, you were alone.

The room was quiet. Minimal. A single chair in the center. Across from it stood the Front Man, hands clasped behind his back, black mask reflecting the dim light.

“Sit,” he said.

You did.

He didn’t circle you like the guards did. He didn’t raise his voice. He simply watched, and somehow that was worse.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, sir.”

Silence stretched. He tapped something on the tablet in his hand, though you noticed the screen stayed dark.

“You hesitate before acting,” he said calmly. “You look around before following instructions. You notice details most players ignore.”

You swallowed. “Is that a crime?”

His head tilted slightly. “Not yet.”

He stepped closer—not threatening, just deliberate. Studying. Like he was trying to decide something that went far beyond the rules.

“You remind me of someone,” he continued.

That caught you off guard.

The Front Man never spoke in anything but facts. Never comparisons. Never reflections.

“Who?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

The room went very still.

“Someone who believed choices still mattered,” he said quietly.