"10,000 dollars."

He stared at all the money in his hands. And to think… there were two more identical stacks hiding inside his bag.

"Ten—"

He shoved the money back and slammed the backpack shut. His face, completely blank.

And without any change in his expression, he just put on his helmet and mounted the bike. The tires kicked up sand and stones as he rode away just like that.

Money. Adam. Money to buy whatever you want. You should get some more. Adam… get some more!

Adam completely ignored his own thoughts, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Adam allowed himself to enjoy the passing scenery. Rolling hills, scattered trees, open sky stretched endlessly ahead.

This electric off-road motorcycle truly was a godsend.

The money. Adam. $30,000.

"Hm…"

Sixteen days remained before the next Game. What would he do until then?

Spend the money, Adam. Spend it!

Of course, Adam had already earned more than that throughout his years as a scavenger—but his savings never truly did reach that point.

After all, he always moved from one place to the next, and his money faded away like smoke. This was the very first time he had ever held that amount.

Spend it.

"...Steak. I feel like having a Wagyu steak."

***

Hundreds of miles away, inside a bustling airport terminal, a crowd pressed against the security barriers. Camera flashes cracked through the air like bursts of lightning as passengers trickled out of the arrival gate.

"There she is!"

The crowd surged, excitement spiking into chaos. Voices collided, rising into a frantic roar as a woman stepped into view, flanked by several escorts.

Her face was mostly hidden beneath oversized sunglasses and a low cap, but her tall frame, and the unmistakable cascade of golden hair, left no room as to who she was.

"Ms. Rousseau!"

"Ms. Sylvie, over here!"

"We love you, Duelist of Rose!"

France's sole S-tier Hero had arrived in the United States.

She didn't stop for the crowd, merely offered a graceful wave as she continued moving, but even that small gesture detonated the terminal.

The crowd's screams intensified, some of them almost jumping over the barriers. And soon, the airport's security had to form another barrier with their own bodies. This didn't deter the crowd at all. In fact, they started asking questions that drowned the entire airport.

"Madame Sylvie! Madame!"

"Why did you suddenly decide to come to the US?!"

"What did you think about the last Game and the alleged rigging?! Did you hear about Bjorn being acquitted?!"

"Duelist of Rose. Do you have anything to say to the families of the Red team, to the families of the people you killed?!"

And soon, the media and reporters mixed in with the crowd. They pushed Sylvie's fans away, holding large video cameras and pointing them right at her.

"Duelist of Rose! Here! Please, look here!"

"Do you feel any guilt for killing tens of thousands of people?! Do you think you and the other Heroes should be held responsible for—"

"Alright! Alright! That's enough!"

Before the situation could become worse than it was, one of Sylvie's escorts stepped forward and approached the crowd.

"Everyone! The Duelist of Rose is just here to pay her respects to the people who have died in the last Game!" the blonde woman said. "Please, Sylvie will make time to answer your questions sometime this week. For now, please let her pass!"

Of course, the crowd didn't really care about that. They still bombarded Sylvie with questions, and the airport's security and her escorts had to move the barriers to make a path straight to her car.

Of course, before getting in the car, Sylvie once again waved her hand at the crowd and smiled at them. Her assistant didn't seem to like this at all, however, as she practically pushed Sylvie inside the car.

"Holy, these Americans are relentless, sister," the woman, who turned out to be Sylvie's sister, clicked her tongue as soon as they were inside the car. "Did we really have to go here? It smells like Paris."

"Don't be rude, Tine." Sylvie sighed at her sister, shaking her head before looking out the window. Her sister, Clementine, only scoffed and rolled her eyes at her before choosing to focus on her phone.

Sylvie glanced at her, and when she was sure she wasn't focusing on her at all, she pulled out something from her purse.

It was a white cloth—well, not entirely. There was a patch of red, almost brown, staining it. Like dirt, almost.

But it wasn't dirt, no. It was blood, dried blood.

More specifically… Adam's dried blood.

Sylvie glanced at her sister again and then slightly turned and leaned away. And then, with her face reddening, she placed the cloth right next to her nose and gave it a little sniff.

Half a month now. Half a month of not being able to sleep properly since her mind was completely filled with the young man she fought at the Game.

Even… even her dreams were dominated by the thought of him. His… scent.

No. His flavor.

Sir Adam.

Sylvie closed her eyes, taking another sniff of Adam's blood as she remembered their duel. There was something incredibly special about him, about his blood.

Sylvie's abilities made it so that she could control her blood—and that was it. She could turn them into weapons, or anything she imagined them to be.

It was only supposed to be her own blood. Never did she imagine that she would be this much affected by someone else's blood.

And yes, while what Clementine said was true about her visiting the country to pay her respects to the victims of the Game, and to offer help to those who need and want it, she was also here for another reason.

Adam.

I know it's impossible. It is… but I know you're alive, Sir Adam. The scent of your blood is stronger now…

…I can smell you from all the way here.

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