The transition was so abrupt it triggered sensory vertigo. Moments ago, Alex's group had been submerged in the metallic stench of blood and the dry sand of a death arena; now, their feet sank into long, soft-pile carpets. The corridor they were led through didn't exhale the mildew of caves or the chemical scent of the hotel, but rather a gentle fragrance of sandalwood and vanilla.
The South Wing was a geographical anomaly in that hellscape. The walls were paneled in dark wood, the lighting was warm and indirect, and the furniture looked as though it had been plundered from a Victorian mansion. In the center of the main living room, Smith was already waiting. But this was not the Smith from the arena.
The host no longer wore the immaculate white suit that seemed to glow with its own light. Instead, he wore navy blue linen trousers and a high-end navy polo shirt. Without the excessive gel, a few strands of hair fell over his forehead, giving him a dangerously human appearance. He sat on a genuine leather sofa, swirling a crystal glass filled with an amber liquid.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Smith said with a casual gesture. "We don't bite here. At least, not without prior warning."
The group hesitated, but physical exhaustion won out. Alex took an individual armchair, while Harry and Foxy stayed near the coffee table. Dante and Elisa occupied a sofa further back.
"Well, we never discussed the reward for our 'special game,'" Smith began, his voice stripped of that shrill, theatrical projection. "You did well to escape the labyrinth quickly. Had you waited, you would certainly be dead. After all, there was no data there; it was merely a small test to evaluate your curiosity and reaction time. Consider it a stress test."
Foxy, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow, let out a nasal laugh. Even in this luxurious setting, his defensive posture was like a coiled spring.
"How funny," Foxy deadpanned. "You look almost different now, Smith. Is this part of the 'luxury package' too? A complimentary friendly version?"
Smith took a sip of his drink, watching the ice clink against the crystal. His expression held a genuine weariness that Dante never imagined seeing in the man.
"No... it isn't," he replied, his tone almost confidential. "This is the only place on this entire island where I don't have to act like the host you've come to know. It's nothing personal, believe me. I am simply someone performing a service that was requested of me."
Alex leaned forward, his blue eyes piercing Smith's new facade. "What do you mean? So Salazar's theory was correct?" Alex asked, his voice low. "You aren't the mind behind all of this."
"He was correct," Smith admitted, letting out a long sigh. "I am merely the face of the brand. A host hired under certain conditions, if you prefer. I am not the organizer; I don't even know who they truly are. I just do what I must to regain my freedom and, perhaps, my dignity. At any rate, the prize you will receive for the secret game consists of special supplies: higher-caliber weapons, advanced medical kits, and food that doesn't come in dented cans."
Smith rose slowly. The aura of danger hadn't vanished, but it was tucked away in a sheath of civility. "Enjoy your rest. It's the only one you'll have in this place until the end."
When he left, closing the double oak doors, a heavy silence took over the room for several seconds.
"That was definitely unexpected!" Harry broke the ice, adjusting his glasses and looking around, still incredulous. "Is this the real Smith? Or is the one we see in the games the real one?"
"He feels like a different person," Dante added, feeling the upholstery of the sofa beneath his hands. "The tone of his voice... he sounded almost... sad?"
Alex shook his head, returning to his usual pragmatism to avoid being swayed by the enemy's apparent humanity. "It doesn't matter. Whether Smith is one or the other, what matters is that we have to get out of here. He is still the piece that keeps us trapped."
Yuki, sensing the tension in Alex's shoulders, sat down beside him. The group's leader looked as if he had aged ten years in a single afternoon. In a move that shocked everyone in the room—especially herself—Alex sighed and laid his head in Yuki's lap, closing his eyes as he searched for a moment of peace.
Yuki froze for a second, her face heating up, before she began to gently run her fingers through his hair.
"By the end of this game, these two are going to be a couple if this keeps up," Foxy teased, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Harry with his elbow.
Dante, for his part, was focused on Elisa. The young soldier had removed her tactical vest and unbuttoned the top of her fatigue jacket, revealing a relaxed posture Dante had never seen before. They were sitting close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed.
"You fought well today, Dante," she said, turning her face toward him. There was a softness in her features accentuated by the warm light of the room. "That shift in tempo... you saved our lives."
Dante felt heat rise up his neck. He gave a lopsided smile, trying to maintain the newfound confidence he had discovered in the arena. "I had good teachers. Foxy taught me to be fast, but I think the fear of seeing you hurt taught me to be lethal."
Elisa let out a short laugh, but she didn't look away. She leaned her body slightly toward him. "That's a pretty smooth line for someone who's been shaking with fear this whole time, you know?"
"I'm a fast learner," Dante joked, edging a bit closer. "And you? Any military secrets for relaxing, or do you just look this good after almost dying?"
Elisa arched an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in her eyes. She didn't pull away, but she didn't fully yield either. "Maybe I'll tell you... if you survive the next round. Let's just say I'm interested to see if this new 'beast' is here to stay."
Meanwhile, Foxy, bored by the calm, approached Harry, who was examining a bowl of real fruit on the coffee table.
"Hey, Red," Foxy teased, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth. "Looks like we're playing third wheel here. The atmosphere is getting so sappy I'm starting to get diabetes."
Harry laughed, shaking his head as he watched the interaction between the other budding couples. "Even Dante is playing the charmer now?" Harry asked Foxy in a tone of masculine camaraderie. "The world really has turned upside down if Dante is the group's biggest heartthrob."
"It's the adrenaline," Foxy shrugged, sitting on the arm of the sofa. "Or the trauma. People usually cling to each other before heading to the guillotine. What about you, Harry? Not going to try your luck with anyone?"
Harry laughed, a genuine chuckle that eased some of the weight in his chest. "I have a girlfriend, you know?" Harry explained, sighing with a hint of longing. "But she isn't here, thank God. I'd rather be a third wheel here than see her running from psychopaths with ceramic blades."
Foxy clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Wise choice, Red. Wise choice."
The rest of the night passed with a surreal lightness. They ate food that tasted divine after days of deprivation, and for a few hours, the laughter and inside jokes drowned out the sound of the screams that still echoed in their memories. They knew that outside, John was reading information that could change everything, but there, under the scent of sandalwood and the comfort of silk, they allowed themselves to just be young again.
At least until the next dawn.