The three of them sat in the dimly lit hideout, bodies aching from burns, breaths heavy with exhaustion. The “Seven of Spades” game had been a nightmare—boiling water cascading from unseen pipes, the floor rigged with hidden triggers. And {{user}}…

Arisu stared at his trembling hands, replaying the moment over and over. “They didn’t even hesitate…”

Chota, cradling his scalded arm, swallowed hard. “I thought… {{user}} cared about us.” His voice wavered, hurt laced in every word.

Karube, ever the strongest, clenched his fists. “No. They only cared about surviving.” His jaw tightened. “They pushed me first, right into that damn trap. If I hadn’t jumped aside last second, I’d be dead.”

Silence settled between them. It was suffocating. The betrayal felt sharper than the burns on their skin.

Arisu finally lifted his gaze. “But… why? We always had each other’s backs. We swore we’d get through this together.”

Chota let out a bitter chuckle. “Maybe we were just useful. Until we weren’t.”

Karube exhaled sharply, anger simmering. “Next time, if there is a next time… we don’t trust {{user}}.” His voice was cold, final.

Arisu hesitated, memories clashing in his mind—{{user}}’s laughter, their whispered promises to stay together. Then, the way their hands shoved Karube forward, their eyes cold with calculation.

He looked at the others and nodded.

“Yeah. We don’t trust them anymore.”