"This place… is a lot more civilized than I thought."

Clementine stepped down from the private plane, squinting in the afternoon sun as she surveyed the sprawling airport. The glass towers and the gleaming city of Dallas welcomed them from afar.

"I mean, seriously," she muttered, pulling out her phone to snap a photo of the airport, "I was expecting nothing but farms and cowboys. This actually looks like a real city."

She lowered her phone and glanced back toward the plane, expecting to see her sister following behind. Instead, she spotted the crowd gathered inside the terminal—a sea of colorful banners and handmade signs pressed against the windows.

[Welcome, Sylvie!]

[Duelist of Rose, We Love You!]

[WE LOVE YOU!]

Clementine's expression soured immediately at all the tarps. She tilted her head back toward the plane and cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Sis! Your adoring fans are already here waiting for you! Here! What the fuck?!"

She shook her head in disgust, watching as more people joined the crowd inside. Camera flashes flickered like fireflies behind the glass, even though they were still far away.

"Merde! How do these people always know where we're going to be?" she shouted, spinning around to glare at the flight attendant who was descending the stairs with a small bag. "Someone's been leaking our flight information! Is it you?!"

The attendant's eyes widened, and she offered a nervous chuckle while quickening her pace to get away from there.

"Sylvie!" Clementine called again, her voice echoing across the tarmac. "Get your ass down here before this turns into another circus!"

But it wasn't Sylvie who emerged from the aircraft. Another flight attendant appeared at the top of the stairs, confusion written across her face as she looked around the empty plane interior.

"Ma'am?" The attendant descended slowly, glancing between Clementine and the plane. "Your sister… already disembarked? She seemed to be in quite a hurry."

Clementine stared at the woman, her left eye twitching.

"She… what?"

"She left as soon as the doors opened," the attendant continued, gesturing toward the far end of the tarmac. "Through the service exit. She said she had somewhere urgent to be."

"Sylvie!" Clementine's scream pierced the air, causing several ground crew members to stop their work and stare.

"Putain de merde! That sneaky little… J'vais la tuer!

***

"It's… huge."

Somewhere else, Adam stood in the museum's parking lot, tilting his head back to take in the massive structure before him.

The building… the building was shaped in a dome. It's surface gleaming with the same glow as the Game battlefields.

"Huh…" And Adam didn't know whether to be impressed or disgusted at this.

He adjusted his new newsboy cap that he also bought from the thrift store, pulling it lower over his eyes. The museum buzzed with activity—families streaming through the main entrance, tour groups gathering around guides with colorful flags, teenagers taking selfies in front of the massive bronze statue near the entrance.

The irony wasn't lost on him. Here was humanity's suffering, packaged and presented as entertainment. The Game that had destroyed millions of lives had become a tourist attraction.

Well, at least in the case of the museum, it was at least a place of learning.

Adam didn't approach the main entrance immediately. Instead, he wandered through the parking lot, weaving between rows of cars and SUVs. He seemed casual, but his eyes were actually scanning all the cars' plates.

And soon, he stopped in front of a car.

A silver sedan. Four doors, tinted windows, completely unremarkable among the sea of vehicles. Nothing about it suggested it was anything other than another visitor's car.

Adam glanced around the parking lot once more, noting the positions of security cameras and the flow of foot traffic. Satisfied that no one was paying attention to him, he moved to the driver's side door… and opened it.

It wasn't locked at all.

He went inside, planting his left foot outside on the ground to make sure the car didn't close on him.

He didn't waste time checking the glove compartment. His hand went directly to the air conditioning vent. Behind it, tucked into the ductwork, was a small manila envelope.

Adam pulled it free and opened it carefully. Inside were several identification cards, each bearing different names and faces that resembled him with subtle variations. Attached to each ID was a corresponding credit card.

He examined the names briefly, Michael Smith, David Smith, Nathan Smith, before selecting one of them and sliding it into his jacket pocket. And then, from his backpack, he withdrew two thick rolls of cash and pushed them into the space where the envelope had been, replacing the vent cover.

And then, for a moment there, Adam remained in the driver's seat. He gripped the steering wheel and stared out at the parking lot. The cars came and went. Families loaded children into minivans.

The couples arguing. Normal people living normal lives. Adam glanced at the steering wheel again, closing his eyes for another moment.

He held his breath for a few seconds, just a few. And then, he opened his eyes and shook his head, finally stepping out of the car. He didn't even look back at the sedan and just went straight for the museum.

The line for the tickets was… well, long. Almost snaking around the building's curved facade—this was good for him.

And as he looked at all the people, he couldn't help but wonder why there were so many children. Did… the parents intend to teach them about the violence of the Game?

All of them there, after all, would one day participate in the Game if they didn't die of natural causes.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you a Game veteran?"

"Huh…?" Adam's eyes widened as a staff member with a tablet approached him. He was a little caught off guard with the question, but when he realized that a lot of other staff were asking different people, he just answered with a direct,

"No."

"Alright, that'll be ten dollars for admission." The woman smiled warmly. Her eyes, however, slightly narrowed at him. "Veterans get in free, but since you're not…"

"Thank you," Adam said quickly, pulling out his wallet and handing her a bill. He wanted to avoid any further questions… since the people of Dallas seemed to have this sixth sense in recognizing Game vets.

"Well, okay then!" The woman processed his payment and handed him a ticket. "Enjoy your visit!"

Adam nodded and moved toward the entrance, sighing as the woman left him alone. The last thing he needed here was to garner attention.

"Oh…?"

Inside, the museum's lobby opened into a soaring space dominated by a massive marble statue. Adam's steps slowed as he approached it, drawn despite himself to the imposing figure.

"This… is an Administrator?"

The statue looked human, but wrong. Its limbs were stretched impossibly long, even the fingers felt like they could grab Adam's head so easily. But of course, that wasn't even the most different part.

It was the three pairs of wings spread from its back, and the statue was detailed enough that Adam could see intricate patterns on each of the feathers. But perhaps the most unsettling, even more so than the long limbs and the wings, was the Administrator's face.

Noble and serene… with an additional eye carved into the center of its forehead.

It was no wonder that the people compared them to angels depicted in the bibles.

Adam approached the towering statue, ducking his head as tourists swarmed around it with their selfie sticks.

"Mom, why does it have three eyes?" a little girl asked while pointing at the Administrator's face.

"That's how the Administrators see everything, sweetheart," her mother replied. "Past, present, and future."

Avoid her, Adam. She's probably a member of that weird church.

Adam pulled his cap even lower and didn't look up until he was right in front of the large statue.

And as soon as he looked up at the face of the Administrator up close, it felt like something prickled at the back of his skull.

And all of a sudden, the chatter around him began to fade. The flashes of the cameras stopped.

Adam blinked hard, shaking his head to clear the fog creeping into his thoughts. But when he opened his eyes again, the museum was… no longer there.

What…?

Sand stretched endlessly in every direction, golden dunes rolling toward a horizon that burned with heat shimmer. The harsh wind howled across the barren landscape, carrying grit that stung his exposed skin and forced him to squint. No trees, no buildings, no signs of life—just an infinite desert beneath a sun that blazed like molten copper.

Where… am I?

Beneath his feet were stone steps… and it was long, incredibly long. He looked around again, and he was standing atop a pyramid, or at least it looked like it—he was sure pyramids didn't have a long set of stairs.

But it wasn't when Adam looked up that everything truly started to not make sense at all.

Because in front of him, floating in the air, were five figures who looked exactly the same as the statue he was just in front of earlier.

The Administrators.

Adam… what the fuck?

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