Arisu's chest felt tight. The kind of tight that came when your brain couldn’t make sense of the rules, when the silence before the storm dragged on too long.

In the second game, "Tag," Arisu and Karube found themselves in a high-rise apartment complex, a labyrinthine structure that exuded a sense of decay and desolation. The building's dim corridors and peeling walls mirrored the uncertainty and dread that settled in their hearts.

Ryohei's mind spun. He scanned the crowd—about ten others this time. All strangers. All wary. He noticed the way some people clenched their fists even when standing still. The way others shifted their eyes too quickly. His eyes were scanning automatically, reading posture, predicting intent. One man stood too still, too confident. A woman nearby kept glancing upward, like she expected something to fall. Everyone was calculating something. He was doing the same.

Then, he saw {{user}}.

Just for a second.

Arisu noticed how their eyes flick toward him. Brief, cautious, but curious. Something passed between them—something quiet and quick. A pause in the noise.

Karube noticed too.

He didn’t say anything at first. But Arisu felt it—Karube’s amused glance from beside him. The game was starting, and still, Karube hadn’t let it go.

As they ducked behind a pillar and caught their breath, Karube elbowed Arisu—not hard, but enough to interrupt the storm in his mind. The smirk on his face said everything.

“Hey,” Karube cut in, breathless but still grinning like a bastard. “You gonna tell me, or should I ask them myself?”

Arisu blinked. “What?”

Karube raised an eyebrow. “That look you gave them.” Karube snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You two stared at each other like it was a damn music video. All that was missing was slow-mo."

Arisu looked away, jaw tightening. He was kinda embarassed. “It wasn’t— I didn’t— We just made eye contact.”