"Serve as royal guards in a corrupt kingdom."

A beat.

Then—

"Wow... lucky," she added, almost impressed, tilting her head slightly as if she’d stumbled onto something unexpectedly boring. "Honestly, the most lucky one so far. You just... serve. Follow orders. Don’t mess up. Nothing much happens there, so... yeah. That’s it."

The contrast hit harder than anything she could have said.

No monsters. Probably.

No hunting. Probably...

No being torn apart in corridors or dragged into the dark. Maybe...

Just... live.

A girl from Team Three hesitantly raised her hand, her voice careful, like she didn’t trust how simple it sounded. "Uh... so... we just need to play it safe?"

The announcer looked at her.

Paused.

Then nodded, completely serious.

"Yep. That’s it. Live a good life, and you survive."

Simple.

Clean.

Unfair.

And that—

That was what broke something in the others.

Because almost immediately, the shift in the air was palpable. Heads turned. Slowly at first, then all at once, like a wave crashing in the same direction. Team One. Team Two.

Eyes locked onto Team Three.

Not confused.

Not relieved.

Something sharper.

Something uglier.

Jealousy, raw and unfiltered, coiling into something close to hostility.

After what they had just seen— after the village with things moving wrong in the shadows, the black thing tearing skemoen dad head apart, after the lab with creatures that learned and remembered, and after tall white creature hugging someone to death making their body bend over effortlessly.

This?

This was their scenario?

A few members of Team Two stared like they hadn’t heard correctly, their expressions hollowing out before tightening into something dangerous. One of them let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh that didn’t carry any humor.

"You’re kidding."

Another clenched their jaw, gaze hardening as it dragged across Team Three like they were measuring something.

"We get thrown into a nightmare... and they get a palace?"

Someone from Team One scoffed under their breath, arms crossing tightly. "Corrupt kingdom? That’s it? That’s supposed to be a challenge?"

The girl who asked the question earlier lowered her hand slowly, suddenly very aware of the weight of every stare pressing into her from all sides.

Because it wasn’t just unfair.

It felt rigged.

The kind of imbalance that didn’t sit quietly.

The kind that made people start thinking things they wouldn’t have considered before.

Across the arena, a few of Team Three instinctively shifted closer together, unease creeping in as they realized the danger hadn’t disappeared—

It had just changed direction.

Above them, the bunny announcer watched it all unfold, her smile curling just a little wider, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.

Because the monsters weren’t always in the scenarios.

Sometimes—

They were right there in the arena.

Meanwhile above.

The bunny announcer didn’t even try to hide it this time.

Her lips curled— slow, deliberate— like she was savoring something only she could taste. The tension below, the shifting glares, the uneven breathing... it all reflected in her eyes like a feast already served.

And then, without breaking that smile, her head tilted slightly— toward them, TEAM 4.

At first, it looked like she was addressing Team Four as a whole, her gaze drifting lazily in their direction as if they were just the next act in her little performance. But it didn’t stop there. It lingered. Slid. Narrowed.

Until it settled.

Not on the group.

On him.

Si Hon.

It wasn’t subtle. Not hidden behind theatrics or misdirection. It was precise, deliberate, like a spotlight tightening until only one figure remained beneath it. Her eyes rested on him with quiet interest, something playful curling beneath the surface, as if she had just found the part of the story she actually cared about.

And she watched.

Just for a second longer than necessary.

Then—

Snap.

Her fingers came together, sharp and clean, and the massive wheel behind her spun in motion again, spinning faster than before, its colors blurring into a single dizzying ring.

But unlike the others—

Team Four didn’t react.

No sharp breaths. No panic. No stiffening shoulders or whispered prayers slipping out under pressure. While the rest of the arena had been dragged around by fear, jealousy, dread, or relief, Team Four stood in a strange pocket of stillness, untouched by the mood crushing everyone else.

Or at least, that’s how it looked.

Above them, the massive wheel continued spinning behind the bunny announcer, its heavy clicks echoing across the arena in steady rhythm.

Tak.

Tak.

Tak. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Si Hon lifted his gaze toward it for a brief moment, watching the blur of symbols— circus, alchemist, castle, school, and a village house, they passed one after another beneath the pale lights overhead.

Then, slowly, almost absentmindedly, his attention drifted downward instead, like his brain had quietly decided something else was currently more urgent than whatever nightmare fate planned to hand them.

His eyes shifted to his side.

Seong.

Close.

Too close.

Her arm was still wrapped securely around his waist, posture calm and composed like there was absolutely nothing strange about it. The hold wasn’t forceful, but it was firm enough to constantly remind him it existed. Warm. Steady. Unavoidable.

Then—

His gaze slid to the other side.

And immediately got worse.

Aeloria.

She wasn’t just standing near him anymore.

She was fully attached to his arm now, both hands holding onto it tightly while pretending she absolutely did not care.

Her face still carried that stubborn mix of irritation and embarrassment, cheeks faintly colored despite the glare she kept aimed at literally everything around her.

It looked less like she was staying beside him willingly—

And more like pride physically refused to let her back away first.

Si Hon blinked once.

Slowly.

His thoughts lagged behind reality for an entire second.

(Wait.)

Another pause.

(What exactly is happening right now?)

He looked down again.

Seong holding his waist.

Aeloria hugging his arm— WHOLE ARM.

Neither moving.

Neither speaking.

Neither acting like this situation was unusual anymore.

Si Hon’s expression remained mostly unreadable, but internally, something quietly disconnected.

Just the exhausted realization that events had somehow advanced without his permission.

Then his head turned slightly, glancing behind him.

Blue Team.

A disaster.

An absolute disaster.

The fangirls and small fanboys weren’t even pretending anymore. Several had both hands clasped near their mouths, shoulders trembling violently like they were struggling to survive the emotional pressure of simply witnessing this.

One girl looked seconds away from fainting again. Another was gripping someone beside her hard enough to wrinkle their sleeve while whispering at machine gun speed.

"They’re still touching..."

"No, look closer, BOTH SIDES are touching—"

"This is cinema..."

"Someone check Mihu again."

Further back, Mihu herself stood unnaturally still, eyes locked onto the scene with terrifying concentration, like a scholar witnessing the final lost Chapter of an ancient prophecy unfold before her very eyes.

Then—

Pink Team.

His team.

Which somehow felt even worse.

Edur stood quietly with his arms crossed, watching the entire situation with the exhausted expression of someone who had already accepted that his life was now permanently tied to nonsense beyond human comprehension. Like dude... he’s an old man.

And the twins—

Suha and Han Gyeol—

Were observing the three of them with the focused seriousness of children watching their own master plan succeed in real time.

Not the wheel.

Not the announcer.

Not the scenarios that had nearly driven two teams into psychological collapse.

No.

They were watching this.

Watching him.

Watching Seong.

Watching Aeloria.

Like this entire mess was somehow more important than whatever fate the spinning wheel was preparing.

Si Hon stared at them for a second longer before slowly turning forward again.

The wheel continued spinning overhead.

Louder now.

Closer.

The clicking sounded heavier somehow, almost impatient, like the arena itself was waiting for him to finally acknowledge the fact that his situation had already become catastrophic long before the scenario even started.

"Ah," he muttered quietly under his breath.

Not shocked.

Not afraid.

Just deeply, spiritually inconvenienced.

Because somehow—

Without him doing anything—

Everything around him had turned complicated anyway.

And the worst part?

The wheel still hadn’t stopped spinning.