SSEI | Chapter 1.7

If someone had cut off his junk in the last match, only to find that same person blatantly checking it out later, Yuan knew he would be pissed. But awkwardly turning his head away felt like it might offend the guy too.

Torn between fear and panic, Yuan ultimately went with the most short-sighted option—he squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t actually solve anything. If anything, it just left him defenseless to external threats. But at this moment, it was all he could think to do.

And then—

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“…Figures. That bastard didn’t explain a damn thing, did he? Talk about rotten luck, getting matched with someone like that right from the start.”

The man’s muttered remark sounded almost pitiful. Something thin fluttered down from above, grazing Yuan’s cheek before landing beside him.

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It wasn’t a punch or a kick this time…? Yuan hesitantly cracked his eyes open.

The first thing that caught his attention was a piece of paper, densely packed with writing. Staring blankly at the unfamiliar symbols scrawled across it, Yuan barely processed the man’s next words.

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“Two hours before each match, the team roster for the next game is released. In this world, when you die even once, your teammates change.”

“What… What are you saying? Then… Then, does that mean… Lork isn’t my teammate anymore?”

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Only now did Yuan recall the hesitant, uneasy attitude Lork had been showing earlier. The way he kept stopping and starting, like there was something important he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Maybe, just maybe, he had been trying to tell Yuan the truth—that they were no longer on the same team. That they had no reason to stick together anymore.

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But if that was the case, then there was a huge problem. Now that the team roster had been announced, that meant Yuan had a new teammate for the upcoming match.

And at that moment, a terrible realization dawned on him.

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No way—was that why this guy had come looking for him?

“You and I have been assigned to the same team for the next match. Get up and start preparing.”

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Yuan got to his feet.

But it wasn’t to prepare for the next game, as his new teammate suggested.

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With a creaky, sluggish motion, he turned his stiff body around—then broke into a full-speed sprint.

The Red Man tilted his head slightly, then, without urgency, began walking after him.

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—

Yuan had suspected it, but deep down, he knew—there was no way he could outrun the man with his feeble body.

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He was running as hard as he could, but his movements were sluggish, and his steps wobbled dangerously. It wasn’t even like the man was grabbing him—he tripped over his own feet multiple times, barely managing to stay upright.

‘I swear I ran better than this when I escaped from the forest!’

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Frustrated, Yuan clenched his teeth before suddenly recalling Lork. Maybe, back then, he’d only managed to run like a half-decent person because of Lork’s help. Now, out of breath and ready to collapse after just a few strides, he realized—this weak stamina might actually be his true physical ability.

‘Why the hell am I so weak? Just how little exercise did I get before ending up here?!’

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Even though he hadn’t been running for long, sweat poured down his face, and his lungs felt like they were about to burst. And yet, the only reason he could keep struggling and running was because of the man following him.

The man wasn’t even chasing him properly. He just walked at a steady pace, never reaching out to grab Yuan but always staying within arm’s length. He matched Yuan’s erratic movements effortlessly.

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It was far more terrifying than if he’d just been caught outright. No matter how desperately Yuan sprinted, jumped over obstacles, or threw himself down ledges, the man remained right beside him—unruffled, completely unfazed.

Like he was observing him. Assessing his capabilities.

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Maybe to figure out the best way to break him when the real game began.

‘If he catches me, I’m dead. Forget being on the same team—he’s really going to kill me!’

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Some stupid rule about “no violence in the sanctuary” meant nothing compared to the image burned into his mind—Lork’s head splitting in two in a single slash. It was the most vivid sight he’d seen since waking up in this world, and it wasn’t something he could ever forget.

A man who could kill his own teammate without hesitation definitely wasn’t going to let his old enemy walk free. If he didn’t kill him outright, he’d at least beat the crap out of him first. Or worse—maybe he’d return the favor by kicking Yuan between the legs just as hard as before.

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That horrifying memory alone was enough to force his shaking body forward, making him keep running even when he knew it was pointless.

This so-called sanctuary was an endless maze of corridors and staircases, stretching across multiple floors. No matter how far he ran, there was no end, no clear escape route. If he had infinite stamina, he might’ve been able to keep running forever.

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But of course, Yuan’s escape had its limits.

His overworked legs finally gave out. His ankle twisted at an awkward angle as he descended a staircase, and before he could regain balance—

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He slipped.

There was no proper railing. He toppled sideways, plummeting straight toward the lower floor.

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But just before he could crash into the ground—

A sigh, filled with exasperation, brushed against his ears.

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“You should really stop now.”

The voice was suddenly right next to him.

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And then—

A pair of strong arms caught him mid-fall.

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The man had somehow moved ahead of him, effortlessly scooping Yuan up. His arms were firm and steady, holding him securely. The sensation was terrifying—like being trapped in a snare. But at the same time, the overwhelming panic and fear inside Yuan slowly deflated, like air leaking from a balloon.

“Uh… Uh…?”

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He wasn’t in pain.

He hadn’t been hit. He hadn’t been stabbed.

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Of course, it made sense—he had been caught, not attacked. But the arms wrapped around him were warm. And they felt… strangely reliable.

This wasn’t the touch of some cold-blooded killer.

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It was the touch of a living, breathing human.

That realization hit him like a bucket of cold water, abruptly halting his spiraling emotions.

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‘He’s not hitting me? He’s really not hitting me?’

It was such an obvious thing that should’ve been clear from the start, yet it had taken Yuan this long to process it. Dazed, he lifted his gaze to the man holding him.

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The guy looked the same as before—expression dull, completely indifferent.

“Huh? Uh? Hmm…?”

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“You’ve calmed down a little now, I see.” The man’s grip didn’t loosen. “Then let’s go.”

The Red Man carried Yuan straight to the dining hall. He was hauled along like a kitten being carried by the scruff of its neck, and before he knew it, he was sitting at a table in a corner of the dining area, watching the Red Man fetch food.

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For now, at least, he seemed safe. Whether that would still be true once they left for the wasteland, however, was another matter entirely.

‘Just give up. At this point, the only thing I can do is beg for forgiveness as much as possible during this match…’

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Yuan trembled as the Red Man placed a tray of food in front of him.

The sheer amount alone looked capable of killing someone if force-fed, but aside from that, it was a perfectly balanced meal. The rich, savory aroma hit his empty stomach mercilessly.

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Of course, he had absolutely no appetite.

Hesitant and fidgeting, Yuan finally opened his mouth—not to eat, but to speak.

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“Um… I, I was wrong….”

“Eat. You must be starving after all that running around.”

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“What? Uh, well, I mean…”

“I already ate before I met you. I’ll wait until you finish.”

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That calm, indifferent attitude was far scarier than if he had just yelled or gotten angry.

The Red Man handed him a spoon and fork. Overwhelmed by his presence, Yuan started picking at the mountain of food, nibbling at it little by little.

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Meanwhile, the other people in the dining hall whispered amongst themselves, watching them like they were witnessing something rare and fascinating. Yuan recognized their faces—they were the same people who had done absolutely nothing to help while he was running for his life. But now that the Red Man had caught him and dragged him here, they had gathered like spectators at an event.

“Man, that kid really lucked out, huh? How the hell did he end up on that team?”

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“The beginning of the next round is gonna be wild. But will we even get to see it…?”

“Why would you even want to see it firsthand? You already know it’s best to stay away from that guy. Someone unlucky will witness it eventually—we can just listen to the rumors.”

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Yuan did his best to tune out the snickering voices and kept chewing. Just like Lork had said, the food was delicious. But he couldn’t enjoy a single bite.

If not for the man sitting across from him—arms crossed, watching him in complete silence—he would have left the table ages ago.

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“Make sure to eat properly before a match from now on,” the Red Man said. “Don’t waste your energy running around aimlessly. This will probably be your last meal today.”

Yuan’s hand froze.

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‘Wait… wasn’t there plenty of food in the supply boxes in the wasteland?’

Was he saying he was going to starve him? Or… did he mean Yuan wouldn’t even need food after today? Did he have something else in mind?

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He had no courage to ask. Instead, he focused on moving his spoon as if it could protect him.

But at this rate, he was going to make himself sick. To distract himself, Yuan glanced around—and his eyes landed on the team roster lying on the table.

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It wasn’t something the Red Man had brought.

Like a menu, the roster was present on every table in the dining hall.

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‘Wait, I never actually read this thing myself.’

Holding his spoon in one hand, Yuan reached out with the other and picked up the team roster.

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After scanning it in silence for a few moments, he hesitantly spoke up.

“Um…”

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“What?”

“How do you read this thing…?”

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It might have sounded stupid, but it was an extremely important question.

Strangely, the list didn’t contain actual names. Instead, it was filled with unfamiliar symbols—each team was represented by two matching marks, forming a total of twenty-five pairs.

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Yuan understood the basic structure, but how was he supposed to identify which mark belonged to him?

‘Are we even really on the same team?’

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Doubt flickered in Yuan’s eyes as he looked up at the Red Man.

The man tilted his head slightly before responding in an uninterested tone.

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“Find your mark on the paper. Then you’ll know who your partner is.”

“What’s my mark? How do I find it?”

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“Figure it out yourself.”

The man answered indifferently, and Yuan quickly realized that this guy had no intention of giving him a proper response. Not that it mattered—he had no idea what these marks even meant in the first place, so how was he supposed to know which one was his?

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Still, to avoid rubbing the man the wrong way, Yuan pretended to read the marks one by one, tracing them with his fingertip. Wasn’t this an incredibly inconvenient way to do things? He’d heard that plenty of people had forgotten their names, so maybe this method was necessary… But at the same time, wasn’t this basically ensuring that no one could read them at all? He felt like complaining.

‘Can I really find my teammates just by looking at this?’

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As Yuan scanned the list of marks, his eyes were naturally drawn to one in particular. It looked like both a scar and a flower.

For some reason, Yuan instinctively knew—it was his mark. Just like the impulse he’d felt back in the wasteland, the realization came to him as naturally as breathing.

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“Your mark is the scar on your face. It’s definitely a distinctive feature.”

The man finally spoke again, only after seeing Yuan’s eyes widen. Surprisingly, his response was more informative than expected. For someone who sounded so disinterested, he sure provided a decent amount of useful information.

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