The moment you stumbled back into the dorm, your hands were still shaking from the blood on them.

That game hadn’t been a test of strength — it was a test of control. You weren’t sure which one you lost.

Se-mi was waiting for you.

She hadn’t played this round — she'd watched, silent behind narrowed eyes. The kind of eyes that didn’t blink when someone screamed. That didn’t flinch when someone fell.

“You lived,” she said, tone unreadable.

“Barely,” you muttered.

“You chose the wrong partner.”

You looked up at her, anger bubbling. “You didn’t step in.”

“I couldn’t.” She walked closer. “That’s the game. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

You hated how calm she was. How her expression didn’t change — until she reached out and wiped a smear of blood from your cheek with her thumb.

"You keep getting lucky," she said.