The cafeteria was warmer than the rest of the facility.
Not comfortable—just warm enough to remind us we were still human.
Metal tables stretched across the room in neat, disciplined rows. White lights hummed overhead, softer than the training hall but no less observant. The smell of food lingered in the air—simple, filling, designed to refuel rather than impress.
I sat down with my tray and didn't speak right away.
The first bite grounded me.
Salt. Heat. Something real.
After hours of calculated danger, it felt strange how something as small as food could pull my thoughts back into place.
Junseo, meanwhile, was eating like nothing had happened. Like we hadn't just watched people vanish beneath collapsing floors.
"Guess fear burns calories," he muttered, already halfway through his meal.
I let out a quiet breath that almost passed for a laugh.
Across from us, chairs scraped softly against the floor.
Orina and Peter joined without asking.
Orina set her tray down neatly, posture composed, eyes flicking between Junseo and me once before she spoke.
"It's good to see you both made it."
Junseo didn't even look up.
"Well," he said, tilting his head slightly, confidence settling into his voice like it belonged there, "there was never any doubt."
Orina raised an eyebrow.
Peter snorted into his drink. "You say that now."
Junseo finally looked up, chewing slowly. "I said it before too."
I shook my head, taking another bite. Same Junseo.
Orina leaned back, folding her arms. "Still—some of them didn't."
The table grew quieter after that.
Not heavy.
Just honest.
Peter broke the pause easily. "Doesn't mean it's over. If this place taught me anything, it's that they're only warming us up."
Junseo swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "But at least we've got time."
I glanced at him. "Time for what?"
He shrugged. "To get better. Smarter. Less stupid."
Orina smiled faintly at that.
For a brief moment, the chaos earlier felt distant—like it belonged to another version of us.
Just people sitting at a table.
Eating.
Breathing.
Still standing.
A hand touched my shoulder from behind.
Not rough. Not hesitant. Confident enough to make me turn.
A woman was already pulling out the chair beside me, settling into it like the decision had been made long before asking.
"Kyla," she said easily. "I noticed you back there. You did really well."
I blinked once, then nodded. "Seol. Seol Wol."
Before I could say more, Junseo leaned in like this was his cue.
"Junseo," he said brightly. "They call me Junseo."
Kyla glanced between us. "You two look alike. Brothers?"
"Yeah," I replied. "He's my brother."
Junseo smirked. "Hyung. But only by two minutes."
I shot him a look. "And I'm the handsome one."
Kyla laughed. "Yeah," she said casually, eyes lingering on me. "I can see that."
Junseo stared at her. "Are you joking? Are you joking right now?"
She ignored him completely.
"You're Korean, right?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Then why do you have grey eyes?" She leaned closer, genuinely curious. "Do Koreans have grey eyes?"
"Our mother was foreign," I said. "Dad was Korean."
"Oh." Her smile softened. "That makes sense."
Then, like it was the most natural confession in the world, she added, "I'm a sucker for grey eyes."
Junseo leaned toward my ear, whispering far louder than necessary.
"Hyung, I think she's into you."
"I can hear that," Kyla said immediately.
Junseo straightened. "Then I'll step back. Wouldn't wanna take what belongs to my brother."
I groaned. "You're enjoying this too much."
Orina finally looked over from her tray, unimpressed but amused.
"Please. If flirting were part of the evaluation, half this room would've failed already."
Peter chuckled quietly.
Kyla laughed again, light and easy.
For the first time since arriving here, the tension loosened its grip—just a little.
And for a moment, this place almost felt normal.
Then—
A sharp sound cut through the cafeteria.
Plastic scraping fabric. A tray clattering to the floor.
Every head turned.
Near the center of the room, someone had frozen mid-step.
Miran.
Food stained the front of his clothes—dark sauce streaking across pale fabric, grains scattered like evidence. The tray lay overturned at his feet.
The man standing in front of him looked like his soul had already left his body.
He was shaking. Not subtly. Full-body trembling. His eyes were wide, locked on Miran's face like he was staring at something unholy.
"I—I—" the man stammered. "I didn't—I swear—"
The cafeteria went dead silent.
Miran didn't move.
He looked down at his clothes.
Something in him shifted.
I stood.
Not consciously. Not heroically. Just instinct.
As I took a step forward, fingers closed around my wrist.
Peter.
"Don't," he said under his breath, not looking at me. His grip was firm. Urgent.
"I've worked with him before."
I turned slightly. "He's going to kill him."
Peter's jaw tightened. "Maybe. But if you step in, you'll just be next. Stay away from Miran—especially now."
Before I could respond—
Miran moved.
He grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing.
A sharp gasp tore through the room.
The man's feet dangled uselessly, kicking once before freezing. His hands clutched Miran's wrist in blind panic.
"I'm sorry—please—please—" he sobbed. "I didn't mean to—I swear—"
Miran's expression didn't change.
That was the worst part.
Not anger.
Not shouting.
Just cold, focused fury.
"I hate waste," Miran said quietly.
The words hit harder than a scream.
"I hate clumsiness," he continued, eyes never leaving the man's face. "And I hate being touched without permission."
The man broke down completely.
"Please," he choked. "I'll do anything—"
Junseo's hand brushed my arm.
"Hyung," he whispered. "This is bad."
Before Miran could move again, a calm voice cut through the tension.
"Enough."
Borislav.
He stood a few steps away, unhurried, like this was a minor inconvenience rather than a near-execution.
"Miran," he said evenly. "Not here."
Miran didn't look at him.
For a moment longer, the man remained suspended between terror and unconsciousness.
Then Miran released him.
The man collapsed to the floor, coughing violently, dragging air into his lungs like he'd been drowning.
Miran stepped back, adjusting his sleeve where food had stained it.
Disgust flickered briefly across his face.
"Clean this," he said to no one in particular.
And then—
He walked away.
The cafeteria exhaled all at once.
I didn't sit back down.
Neither did Junseo.
Across the room, Miran paused.
His eyes lifted.
Found mine.
Just for a second.
Not angry.
Not amused.
Assessing.
Then he turned the corner and disappeared.
Junseo swallowed. "Hyung…"
"Yeah," I said quietly.
That was the reminder.
This place didn't just test skill.
It tested restraint.
Fear.
Survival.
And somehow—
I had just been noticed.