The bird and the trap

As the king lay on the chair, jute's father continued to stab the sword, lost in a sea of despair. Christopher's breathing stopped, and all the fake kings killed themselves by cutting their tongues as the sound of breath ceased.

“We... abandoned, but why?” Bunny mumbled to himself, walking toward the entrance of the gate like a dead corpse with no soul, his eyes lifeless. He reached the gate, swung his fist, and "Boom"—the gate was blown to smithereens.

“We really are pitied creatures who are not loved,” he muttered, peeling off the black skin from his face and facing the roof, letting a small stream of tears flow. Everyone in the nearby area had fainted, so no one knew where he disappeared to within the sector.

“They all failed pretty badly,” said a lady in a high hat, standing in front of the curtained stage. Soon, officials arrived and began clearing the mess.

“Sir, please use this,” said a relief helper, providing a mask and escorting people outside. The area was isolated, and the media was not allowed.

“Fox, you better prepare yourself. Sir is pissed this time,” said the girl with the tall hat.

“I think I will manage with the condition—all the lower three dead, more than 300 people killed, 600 injured. I would never have guessed an abyss hound would have made its way here,” said Mr. Fox, lowering his head and getting flustered. Mr. Tiger, who was standing beside Fox, felt guilty for letting his guard down and allowing the tragedy to escalate.

Miller's family was taken into custody, and the people were all escorted safely after being interrogated.

“How were you able to sleep so soundly in that room? Did you know where he would strike and move to a safe space beforehand?” The internal military investigator’s eyes bored into Momo, his voice sharp and accusatory.

“Like I replied the last 50 times, we were just sleepy and tired from walking up the stairs all day long,” Momo replied, anxious and nervous.

“Lies!” the investigator shouted, his patience wearing thin.

After three hours of relentless questioning, they finally left the relief center. Momo joined Vel and Guta, rubbing his shoulder and complaining, “I’m really bad with investigations and stuff.”

“But that was one hell of a ceremony—more like a murder night,” Gigi said, still drinking from the same cup of wine.

“How come that cup is still not empty?” Mihak asked, but his question was ignored.

“Waah waah! I am really happy for Miss Jute. She said she would be safe. She even gave me her handkerchief to wipe my running nose,” Stark cried, thanking his boss.

“You both were in the hall all the time, right? Why did Jute’s father kill that man?” Mihak asked.

“I was sleeping with my hat down,” Guta replied without much thought.

Vel glanced at Mihak's face while munching on a piece of bread she had picked from the buffet before leaving.

The next day, they all returned home, surprised to find the whole sector partying. “The last time winner, Sector 22’s king, is drawing the stone, and it’s the blue illuminati stone. That means the D30 event will happen in Sector 23!” The broadcast echoed through the whole sector.

“Move your man vehicle!” Mihak shouted as the entire highway was jammed. “The event is still a month away, but what’s with this crowd?” Mihak thought, sweating and tense, as he was late for a delivery. The whole city was bustling with people arriving for different reasons.

“Dad, I want to get a steel blade, one of the good things of this sector,” someone in the crowd said.

“That was a long shift, haah,” Mihak said as he returned home after three hours of overtime and laid down.

“What happened? Weren’t the kings dead?” Mihak asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“It’s what you think,” Momo replied, his voice tinged with mystery.

“I wonder how deep it goes. It’s all happening like nothing happened yesterday,” Mihak added, his mind racing with thoughts of the fake and the real.

“Whatever, but we might have gotten those 900 million grains and that ticket to the finals if the boss participated,” Balloon of bal-by pair said.

“Why would I want to go to the finals directly?” Vel replied, burping and emptying out the bowls without giving anyone a chance to notice.

“Where is Guta? I don’t see him,” Mihak asked, looking at the empty bowl.

“He’s gone for some rehabilitation or something, he said,” Vel replied.

Meanwhile...

“Mr. Miller is charged with killing a noble, infiltrating an abyss hound, and endangering many lives. Sir should this do?” the girl with the long hat asked, kneeling in front of someone sitting on the ground.

“Yeah and leave the hound for now. He seems useless,” the person replied, standing up and brushing off his clothes. “Did you find that irregular?” he asked, facing his back to her.

“I-I am sorry, sir. It is still not found,” she replied, cold sweat running down her forehead.

“Others should be coming for the feast. I will listen to the reports tomorrow,” he added, opening the door.

In an unknown place, there was a dining room that shone so brightly it seemed like shadows couldn’t exist there. The room was bathed in a bright white light, illuminating every corner with a surreal, almost heavenly glow. The long table, adorned with pristine white linen and intricate white silverware, stretched majestically across the room. Twelve pairs of luxurious white seats awaited their guests, while attendants, dressed in white, moved gracefully, preparing the feast. Even the food was white, completing the ethereal scene.

In a dark, secluded corner of the sector, where the sound of water drops echoed like a somber symphony...

“Ugh! 444... Hnnnng! 455...” someone muttered in the darkness, straining as they continued their push-ups. Their body trembled with effort, each repetition a testament to their relentless determination, covered in sweat.

[^8]: Information about the king is unknown among the people for security and privacy reasons. Anything about the king from a reliable source is considered A-class information and sold on the black market at a high price.