Laila did not demand attention. She did not raise her voice. She simply gazed into the small, newly restored fire as though it were the tribunal passing judgment upon her.
She spoke abruptly, without preface, the tone flat and definitive, like someone reading a final, unappealable verdict.
"I think I know why I'm here."
No one responded. Even Samer arrested his ceaseless, nervous energy. The fire emitted a faint, sharp crack, as if it alone offered a comment.
She continued, her voice unnervingly calm:
"It's not because I'm smarter than the others… nor because I've understood anything about this circle." She paused, the weight of her next words palpable. "It's because I deserve whatever happens to me."
She raised her eyes for the first time. They held no trace of fear, but rather a chilling, fragile relief.
"In my life… I did something. Something irreparable. It was never discovered. I was never punished. I lived as though nothing had happened." She offered a small, joyless smile. "But I never forgot. I couldn't."
She tightened the fingers of one hand sharply around her opposite wrist, a subtle movement of self-restraint.
"When the first two died… I didn't think: Why them? I only thought: When is it my turn?"
A heavy silence followed. No one asked what she had done. Everyone understood without the details: some crimes require no description to be universally recognized as unforgivable.
Elias finally spoke, his voice low and carefully measured, attempting to restore a purely logical framework.
"That doesn't mean the circle is prosecuting you, Laila."
She looked at him with cold detachment.
"It doesn't matter. I am."
Then she added, explaining an obvious, self-evident truth: "If harm comes to me… it won't be injustice. It will be a delayed balance."
In that moment, Laila was not attempting to survive the game. She was waiting for the inevitable execution.
And this made her more dangerous than the fearful… and far more volatile than the addict. Her resignation was a direct, lethal threat to the group's fragile cohesion.