He moved forward again, step by step, the light growing larger with every pace.
Just as his eyes were starting to adjust—
!!!
Something grabbed his shoulder.
His body jerked on instinct, heart slamming hard against his chest.
'Shit,' he cursed silently, forcing himself not to shout.
He twisted halfway, ready to pull back, but what he saw stopped him.
It was a girl, about the same age as him. She was thin... too thin. Her cheekbones stood out sharply under her skin, and her shoulders slumped like she had no strength left to hold herself up.
Her eyes were dark and unfocused, like she was struggling to stay awake.
Even so, he could make out her sharp features, long lashes, and the faint outline of her face in the dim light.
"You scared me," he said, his voice rough but low.
She flinched and immediately loosened her grip. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was weak, almost hoarse.
"I've been walking for hours. I don't have any strength left. I just… needed help."
She swayed slightly as she spoke, like she might collapse if she let go.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to say, but his body had already steadied her by the arm.
He looked at her for a moment, then glanced around the corridor. Nothing was moving. No footsteps. No voices.
"Let's sit down first," he said.
"If you're not in a hurry. I'm tired too."
She nodded almost immediately. "Thank you."
She lowered herself to the ground and leaned back against the wall. As soon as she sat, her head dropped forward and she let out a long, shaky exhale, like she had been holding it in for far too long.
He sat a short distance away, close enough to talk but not close enough to crowd her. His legs felt heavy, unfamiliar with this much movement.
After a while, he spoke again. "How long have you been here?"
She didn't answer right away. Her brows knit slightly, as if she was counting days that no longer had meaning.
"I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe… half a year."
His chest tightened a little.
'About the same as me,' he thought. 'So it wasn't random. All of us were taken.'
He kept his voice calm. "What's your name?"
"Xu Xiyue."
There was a brief silence after that. She hesitated, then looked up at him.
"And yours?" she asked.
"Zhao Zhiyu," he said.
"Was the food given to you also poisoned?" he asked.
He kept his tone steady. He needed information more than comfort right now.
She nodded slowly. "Yes."
He frowned slightly. "Was it… bad?"
She shook her head. "Not that potent. It hurt, but not lethal."
That made him go quiet.
'Not potent!?' he thought. 'I was out for weeks.'
His mind started running on its own. Different dosage for different cells. A test. Or maybe random.
'Or maybe I'm just unlucky,' he thought.
Another possibility crept in.
'Or she had resistance from the start.'
He stared at the floor, lips pressed together, lost in thought. He didn't speak again for a while, letting the silence stretch as he tried to sort through the implications.
He glanced at her again, more carefully this time.
Her posture, even when exhausted, was different. She didn't curl in on herself the way most people here did.
Her clothes were worn, but she carried herself like someone who used to be treated well.
'She doesn't look like someone who would eat trash off the floor,' he thought.
The food they were given wasn't just bad. It was humiliating. Sticky leftovers, bones, filth mixed together.
Anyone with options would hesitate.
Anyone with experience would avoid it if they could.
'Did she actually eat it?'
The question sat on the tip of his tongue.
Then something in his gut tightened. Not fear exactly, more like instinct.
'Can I ask that?,' he thought.
People who had alternatives usually paid a price for them. And people who noticed those alternatives didn't always live long.
He swallowed the question and kept his eyes on the ground.
For now, information was more important than curiosity.
After resting for a while, they slowly stood up. His legs protested at first, stiff and sore, but the feeling passed once he started moving again.
She wobbled slightly, and he stayed close enough in case she lost balance.
They walked toward the light together. The torches ahead burned steadily, their glow spreading unevenly across the corridor.
She raised a hand to shield her eyes and looked away almost immediately.
"It's too bright," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Real."
They moved at a slower pace, stopping now and then to let their eyes adjust.
The light was harsh after so long in darkness, turning every shadow sharp and unfamiliar.
Neither of them spoke much as they walked, both focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not letting the light overwhelm them.
They stepped fully into the torchlight, and both of them had to stop.
The brightness pressed against their eyes, forcing tears out no matter how hard they tried to hold them back.
The corridor looked sharper, harsher than it should have, every edge outlined too clearly.
Zhiyu squinted and blinked several times, his vision swimming before it slowly settled.
He could finally see the stone walls properly now, the rough texture worn down by time and neglect.
A few steps ahead, the passage split. One path continued into dimness, while another led toward yet another torch, its light flickering farther down.
It really did look like a route.
He exhaled slowly. "What do you think?"
Xu Xiyue tilted her head and glanced at him, clearly unsure what he meant.
"About this," he clarified, gesturing vaguely at the corridor, the torches, the open doors.
She followed his gaze and nodded faintly. "It looks like it's leading us somewhere."
That was all she said at first.
They stood there for a moment longer, the torch crackling softly beside them. Zhiyu hesitated, then spoke again. "Before… I heard them talking. About raising assassins."
He watched her closely as he said it.
She didn't react with surprise. She didn't ask how he knew. She just went quiet, her eyes drifting back down the corridor as if she had already accepted the idea.
That answer alone told him enough.
"I don't really know," she said after a long pause. Her voice was low and tired.
"I don't even know if I'll survive here."
The words landed heavily between them.
Zhiyu didn't respond right away.
They didn't walk much farther before they saw movement ahead. Shapes emerged from the dim corridor, hesitating the same way they had earlier, pausing just outside the torchlight.
There were three of them.
All around the same age. All thin. All careful.
The first to step forward was a boy with short, uneven hair, like it had been cut with a dull blade.
His arms were lean but tense, shoulders slightly raised as if he expected to be hit at any moment. He stopped a few steps away and raised both hands slowly.
"I'm not looking for trouble," he said. "My name's Lin Hao."
Zhiyu nodded. "Zhao Zhiyu."
The second was a girl, a little shorter, with messy hair tied low behind her neck using a strip of cloth.
Her clothes hung loose on her frame, and her eyes kept flicking between everyone's hands and the corridor behind them.
"I'm Chen Yuanyuan," she said quietly.
The last one lingered behind the other two. He had broader shoulders than the rest, though hunger had stripped most of the strength from him.
There was a faint bruise along his jaw, already turning yellow.
"Wu Sheng," he said after a moment. His voice was flat, like he was conserving energy.
No one spoke for a few seconds after that. They just stood there, confirming through silence that no one was armed, no one was attacking, and no one was about to scream.
Xu Xiyue broke the quiet first. "You all came from the cells too?"
Lin Hao nodded. "I think doors opened at the same time."
"Same for us," Chen Yuanyuan said.
Zhiyu glanced around at them. Different faces, same condition. Same dull hunger in their eyes. Same careful distance.
"So it really wasn't just us," he said.
Wu Sheng let out a short breath that might have been a laugh. "If it were, we'd already be dead."
They didn't smile, but no one argued either.
Zhiyu listened more than he spoke.
While they stood there, he paid attention to the small things—the way they held themselves, how their eyes moved, how quickly they answered.
'Lin Hao talks first,' he thought. 'Not reckless, but not passive either.' The way Lin Hao raised his hands had been deliberate. He wanted to be seen as non-threatening, but he also wanted control of the situation. Probably adaptable. Maybe someone who survives by talking.
His gaze shifted to Chen Yuanyuan. She stayed quiet unless spoken to and kept scanning the surroundings. 'She's cautious and observant. Probably used to staying out of trouble.' The way she watched everyone's hands told him she was thinking about sudden violence.
Wu Sheng was harder to read. He barely moved, barely spoke. 'He's conserving energy,' Zhiyu thought. 'Or hiding something.' The bruise on his jaw suggested he had already fought—or failed to avoid one. That could mean stubbornness or desperation.
Xu Xiyue stood slightly apart from them, closer to him than the others. She didn't push herself into the conversation, but she didn't withdraw either. 'She's endured longer than she lets on,' he thought. 'And she's careful with what she says. She's the one who's hiding a lot.'
Zhiyu felt a familiar tightness in his chest. He didn't know who would panic, who would betray, or who would freeze when things went wrong. He couldn't afford to assume anything yet.
'Everyone here is a threat,' he thought. 'Including me... They also look at me as a threat.'
So he kept his face neutral and his voice calm, storing these impressions away for later.