“Wake up!”

  Even before I opened my eyes, I was already furious and instinctively tried to slap away the hand patting my face. “Get lost, or I’ll melt your face right off.”

  “Oh dear, does everyone who tries to wake you up have to go through this?”

  The obnoxious narrator’s voice didn’t sound the least bit angry—in fact, it was laced with amusement. I opened my eyes and, unsurprisingly, saw Rafe’s face twisted into something demonic. The only reason I didn’t immediately leap up and smash it with a punch was… well, there were reasons.

  “Is this your revenge for tying you up earlier? I wasn’t joking about melting your face.” I tried my best to sound gentle as I spoke to him. “If you knew what I just did, you’d understand you really shouldn’t mess with me right now.”

  “I do know,” Rafe said as he grabbed my arm and tossed me onto a half-collapsed sofa with springs sticking out, as if I were garbage. “Just calm down and listen. I’ll untie you after I explain.”

  “Before you start talking, let me make something clear about why I don’t trust you.” I yawned, then added, “Take my phone from the pocket under my skirt, use the black screen like a mirror, and look at your face.”

  Hoffman’s memory, the Path, and my Skill were still dissolving into my soul. As long as Rafe and I maintained physical contact, I could make his skin melt like it was dipped in acid.

  Of course, the shadow writhing behind the chair would likely tear me apart the second he got hurt… Still, Rafe had to be something else to find even that kind of creature to control in a hellhole like this.

  There was an unspoken understanding between us as Rafe reached into my pocket—sticky with sweat—and took out my phone. He stared at the black screen for a long moment. His eyes glowed faintly red as he turned to look at me.

  “When did it start?”

  “Ever since I entered the theater. Now give me my phone.”

  I couldn’t read his thoughts from his distorted face, but the fact that he spent five minutes explaining this “Nowhere makes hunters kill each other” situation meant I could try trusting that Rafe was still Rafe.

  “Untie my hands. Let me touch your face.”

  To my surprise, Rafe agreed instantly. He even acted like he was doing me a favor, untying the cloth binding my wrists behind me.

  Then he leaned in close, took my right hand in his warm hands, and pressed it to his face.

  A nauseatingly sweet, coppery scent hit me like a wave—reminding me of agarwood burning atop rotting corpses. His face was cold, in stark contrast to his fever-warm hands, as if some uneven, mucus-like fluid was sliding beneath his skin.

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  And yet, the structure of his face—his features—hadn’t changed much from my memory. Just like the inside of the theater, my sight and even smell could be deceived. Only touch remained somewhat reliable. I wasn’t blind; my sense of touch wasn’t particularly refined. I could barely confirm that the distance between the corners of his mouth and his ears was normal, and his eyes weren’t squashed between layers of folded eyelids.

  “You’re not entirely hopeless.” Rafe praised me like he was bestowing a blessing, untying the ropes as he spoke. “You’ve got a real knack for being a hunter.”

  If surviving in this godforsaken place made me “hunter material,” then I must be just as much garbage as the rest of them. I smiled at him like he was an idiot. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Babe, never doubt HR’s judgment.” Rafe grinned like a beast, his gaze fixed on something behind me. “Those two were both pretty famous hunters—and you killed them. That says something.”

  I had just killed two people with my own hands—and what scared me was not the fact itself, but how unaffected I was by it. I even had the presence of mind to be curious about what Rafe was looking at.

  “What are you staring at?”

  “The narrator hiding behind the curtain can only see the stage through the set,” Rafe said absentmindedly. “You’re an actor whose scene has ended. Now you and I are both backstage, waiting for the curtain call. So… who do you think will live to the end—Jin or Avogadro?”

  “Does one of them have to die?”

  Rafe glanced at me. “This is a theater. The audience expects entertainment. What do you think the residents like to watch?”

  I hadn’t even heard the term “residents” until twenty-four hours ago—how the hell was I supposed to know what they liked? I wanted to call him a moron for even asking, but I still thought carefully before answering.

  “I don’t think either of them will die. Avogadro doesn’t have the ability to kill Lady Jin, so she won’t die. And Lady Jin doesn’t follow the residents’ expectations—if they want hunters to kill each other, then she’ll do the opposite. So Avogadro won’t die either.”

  That was the first time Rafe had ever looked into my eyes with such seriousness, for such a long time.

  Drowsiness crept up on me again. Before I even realized it, I’d let out a big, silent yawn.

  It was one of the side effects of overusing my abilities. A deadly exhaustion surged up and swallowed me whole in an instant.

  …That made it the second time I’d passed out today.