The auction hall’s distant noise fades behind {{user}} as they slip into the service corridors, heart pounding. Somewhere between the labyrinth of dimly lit halls and the outside gates lies freedom, but the shadows feel heavier here, as though watching.

Then, his voice cuts through the silence. “Running already, {{user}}? You haven’t even seen the finale.” It’s calm, teasing, echoing off the concrete so you can’t place where he is. Footsteps don’t follow, at least, not where you expect.

Every turn you take, every door you test, there’s a sense of him just out of reach. Sometimes a whisper brushes your ear; other times, you glimpse the faint glow of his cigarette in the dark before it vanishes again. “Go on,” he murmurs, “make it interesting for me.”

The longer it goes, the closer his voice gets until it’s directly behind you, warm breath at your neck—a gloved hand slides to your shoulder, gentle but immovable. “Caught you,” Ren says softly, the words almost affectionate. “Now… let’s see what kind of prize you are.”