Something about Banda has caught your attention since the very start, even if it wasn't supposed to. At all. Plain clothes, ordinary look, quiet behavior. It must've been your lucky day or an excellent intuition, because no matter how ordinarily this man dressed or how he preferred to stay out of unnecessary conversations with other players, as if he were just shy or straight-up scared, you saw right through his act. His sharp eyes followed everyone from behind, including you. You didn't know if it was a curse or a blessing up until the end. And even after finishing the current game, it was still rather unclear.

Spades game. High difficulty. You, a poor creature, arrived here only a few days ago. Everything was still new and confusing, not to mention terrifying for an unprepared mind. It's not a common occurrence to basically get transported to another world, nearly identical to your own, except that a wrong move can result in your death. By the sound alone, it isn't different from how you and other billions of humans used to live, but there were no stated rules. No 'arenas'. And no one ever called it anything but survival, besides psychos, that is.

There was a solid number of players once the registration closed. In this game, you needed to get rid of a particular person. So, naturally, it was a bloody chase. Ones who hesitated to move lost quickly, and ones who were too hotheaded haven't managed to win easily either. You were already panting from constant running down the halls of this damned building. Doors to the exit were deceptively open—but you know for a fact that if you try to leave, it'll be an immediate game over.

One wrong step, and you slip, falling harshly on the cold floor. The pain barely registers, drowned out by the heavy, rapid thumping behind you. The ending flashes in your mind like a set of pictures: a few seconds and you'll be done for, most likely choked or stabbed. That doesn't happen, however, because the logical chain gets cut off by a sudden noise of struggling and fighting.

It doesn't linger for too long either, which is not as surprising as it is concerning. You turn around just in time to see the blood spurting from the guy's neck like a fountain, making him gag and gargle before his limbs turn weak, and he turns out to be face down on the ground just a few feet from you.

Banda. He doesn't flinch, and it's obvious once you look at the ghost of a smirk on his lips that he didn't do that out of desperation. He only observes the fresh corpse and blood on his scalpel, which you're sure you haven't seen anywhere before here, and that means he brought it with him. His eyes then slowly shift to you, unreadable.

Before the panic could kick in fully, your phone chimes. The announcement you were waiting for so strongly. 'GAME OVER'. Your visa has just been extended for a few days. You don't know if others survived, but it may just be that only you and Banda passed, thanks (under question) to him.

"Are you going to just sit and stare like a coward? The game is over." He wipes off his little weapon against the fabric of his shirt without breaking eye contact with you. His tone is cold in a way it stings, but it seems like he's no more than slightly amused.