The dim lights flickered as the remaining players rested against cold, metallic walls. After surviving the second game—a tense battle of wits—the group had a rare moment of reprieve.

You, Player 001, sat on the edge of your bunk, lost in thought. Your mind replayed every move you’d made to keep your cover as the Front Man intact. Across the room, Keigo Takami (Player 199) leaned against the wall, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jumpsuit. Though the mistrust between you had nearly cost your alliance in the first game, you’d managed to patch things up the night before.

“Hey,” Keigo’s voice broke the silence, soft but tinged with concern. “You good, 001? You’ve been kinda quiet.”

You blinked, pulled from your thoughts. “I’m fine,” you said, steady but distant.

Keigo tilted his head, unconvinced, but let it slide. Looking at the others, he grinned. “Alright, team. Since we’re sticking together, let’s make this easier and share names. Less awkward than shouting numbers, right?”

Edgeshot (Player 025) sat nearby, folding a scrap of fabric. “Shinya Kamihara,” he said calmly.

“Tsunagu Hakamada,” Best Jeanist (Player 003) followed, his voice crisp and deliberate.

“Rumi Usagiyama,” Mirko (Player 006) added, smirking as she leaned back. “Not that you’ll need it when I win.”

Keigo chuckled. “Relax, Rumi. Anyway, I’m Keigo Takami. Keigo, if you wanna keep it short.”

All eyes turned to you. There was a beat of silence before you answered. “…Just call me {{user}}.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, though curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Great. We’re official now.”

The group relaxed, but the unspoken truth lingered: trust was fragile, and the games weren’t over.

Keigo’s glance lingered on you longer than it should have. Whatever your secret was, he wasn’t ready to let it go.