Zhayne jolted awake, his head hitting the wall. He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling it rise and fall in uneven bursts. His heart pounded hard, refusing to slow down.
He heard footsteps climbing toward him. It was Jayson, peeking up with wide eyes.
“You finally woke up!” he said, his voice high-pitched.
Zhayne swallowed hard, looking at Jayson, his brow furrowing. “What happened?” he asked.
Jayson lifted his leg and sat on the edge of the bed.
Zhayne looked down and saw Leon cooking salmon in a pan on a black gas stove. Rafael glanced at him sharply while Vincent talked beside him.
He looked around, slowly realizing he was lying on Rafael’s bed. He quickly climbed down the ladder.
“Come back up! He won’t use it again anyway!” Jayson called with a bright smile.
Leon glanced back. “You’re finally awake,” he said, giving Zhayne a brief look before returning his attention to the pan.
Zhayne blinked. The room felt too bright, too loud, almost unreal—like the dream hadn’t fully let go. His head throbbed as Leon’s words echoed in his ears.
You’re finally awake.
He’d heard that tone before. And suddenly, memory hit him—sharp and heavy.
Leon closed the door shut.
“You’re sure about leaving him alone?” Vincent asked.
Leon looked around, then at Vincent. “Who… Zhayne? He’ll be fine,” he replied.
“This isn’t the time for chatting. Look at that,” Rafael said, pointing with his head, his expression tight with disgust.
Jayson, Leon, Vincent, and Rafael moved cautiously, following the faint footprints.
They stopped just a few feet from the bloodstain, each of them staring at it silently for a moment. The faint shine in the dim light made it glisten like something alive.
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Leon crouched slowly, eyes fixed on the floor, studying the blood carefully. He stayed silent for a moment, letting the others take it in, before finally speaking.
“It looks like it was left by an animal’s foot,” he said, his gaze still sharp.
Jayson hesitated before putting his hand on the blood and lifting it closer to his face. Leon quickly moved Jayson’s hand away.
“Don’t worry, I’m not that hungry yet,” Jayson said, then sniffed. “It does feel like blood, but it doesn’t smell like it,” he added, focusing intently on his hand.
Vincent put his plate on the ground and leaned closer, inhaling the faint scent. He went silent for a moment before muttering,
“The smell… it’s like oil… old, rancid.”
Rafael kept his stance, standing upright with his arms relaxed at his sides. He glanced at the blood with a slight expression of disgust, enough to show it unsettled him. Then he noticed the traces continuing further ahead.
“Look ahead,” he said quietly, nodding toward the footprints.
Carefully, Leon straightened from his crouch and took the first cautious step forward, inspecting the next patch of blood. The group followed him slowly, scanning the floor as the trail led onward.
Finally, they arrived in front of a door with a polar bear-shaped doorknob, its mouth open.
The door had the same scratches as their own room. The room number was 501.
Leon stepped closer, studying the floor carefully. He stayed silent for a moment, then slowly opened the door with caution, Jayson right behind him.
The moment the door opened, Leon froze—Ares was there, sword pointed directly at his neck with one hand, while his other pressed firmly against his wounded shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers. Ares’s eyes were sharp, unwavering.
Leon’s heart pounded, and he instinctively froze.
Then Ares’s gaze shifted for a moment, as if he recognized them. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he lowered the sword.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice controlled.
Leon let out a deep breath, tension easing slightly.
“We heard a loud noise… and it brought us here,” he replied carefully.
Jayson peeked from behind Leon, wide-eyed.
A loud door slammed, the sound echoing sharply across the room.
A moment later, Saymon came out of the bathroom.
His gaze was fixed on the floor at first, then he raised it to see Leon and the others. His face brightened instantly.
“You guys came to see me?!” he said, moving toward them. He gave Ares a look, and Ares slid his sword back into its sheath.
Jayson stepped out from behind Leon.
“Spiky… what happened here?” he asked, glancing at Ares’s arm, then looking around the room in surprise. The room was almost identical to theirs—the only differences were the bed sheets, which were cut and destroyed, and the countless footprints scattered across the floor, similar to the ones that had led them here.
“Um…” Saymon started, but before he could continue, his stomach growled loudly. He paused, then smiled brightly.
“How about we eat first?” he said.
“There’s no—” Vincent started, his head resting against the door, but Jayson cut him off, his voice high-pitched and full of excitement, eyes lighting up.
“Of course!! We have the food but not the equipment to cook it…” he said.
Saymon grinned, grabbed the black bag that had been on Ares’s shoulder, and took out a pan and a gas stove, placing them on the bed.
Rafael, Jayson, and Leon stared at the pan and stove intensely, as if Saymon had just become their savior. Saymon handed Rafael the pan and Leon the gas stove.
“Thanks,” Leon said, giving him a small nod.
“No problem. We don’t need them anyway, right, Ares?” Saymon said, glancing at him.
Without a word, Ares stepped forward. In one swift motion, he swung his free hand and all at once shoved Saymon back while using his sword-arm to forcefully push Leon, Jayson, and Vincent toward the door.
Saymon stumbled, trying to regain his footing, but Ares’s shove was too strong. The others collided lightly with the walls as he continued his controlled sweep, herding all of them out of the room at once.
Before Saymon could react or speak, the door slammed shut loudly behind them, echoing through the hallway.
“How rude,” Vincent muttered, resting his hand against the wall to steady himself.
Rafael gripped the pan tightly. “Just leave him to me!” he growled aggressively, but Leon held him back firmly.
“Calm down, Rafael… at least we can eat now,” he said sharply.
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