I bike with Jungkook's arms around me. He's holding on tightly, but I still feel like he might fly off at any moment. My father was injured while biking. My parents became a bit paranoid after the accident. So I haven't biked since I was a child. But it seems like the skill hasn't left me. I swerve around pedestrians and am thankful for my uniform at the moment. It acts like a repellent—almost like I'm dressed like a horrifying clown.

It took some serious skill to steal a bike with two seats, but I managed to find one that a couple was using. When they took a break at a convenience store, I stole it in the same way I stole Jungkook's medicine—without any space for doubt.

"We're almost there," I say, once the League of Fame building pinpoints the sky. "Hold on."

I don't have to turn around to know that Jungkook's face is pale. I don't exactly know when the color drained from his skin, but the absence of sun and his bleeding are probably the main factors. A part of me is upset with myself that I couldn't do more to heal him. If only I pursued studying nursing like my mother once wanted me to.

I swerve around the corner, almost crashing into a street lamp, and I bring the bike to park next to the League of Fame building.

I'm grabbing Jungkook so he doesn't fall onto the pavement. I don't know what about being sick makes you heavier, but right now Jungkook is as heavy as a boat's anchor. I have to summon all my strength to help him up the steps.

Once we enter the maroon lobby, I hand our weapons over to the employees. Then I'm shouting. "We need the doctor! Someone is hurt!"

A nurse comes by to assist us. You'd think she's working at an actual hospital with the professionalism she displays. She sits Jungkook down on a chair in the lobby, asking all the important questions about his injury. When Jungkook looks confused, I help answer how he got hurt and how his wound hasn't healed no matter the lengths I went through.

"You're lucky you got here in time," the nurse says. "I'll take it over from here, young lady. Good job at keeping him alive."

Then she shuffles Jungkook into a side elevator, one that will lead to the clinic on a higher level. I feel strangely empty once Jungkook is gone. I suppose I should go to the banquet floor to eat. But I don't want to see the other competitors right now. It will remind me of what I've done to the six that haunt me in my dreams.

Sitting in the corner of the lobby, I stare straight ahead and ignore the competitors who come in like stragglers. I refuse the temptation to count. I know there should be less than thirty alive. I wonder if any items have been stolen already. If there are some winners who are already celebrating their victory and ticket to fame.

"I saw what you did."

I turn. Mr. Fame is standing close to me, without his bodyguards. Somehow, he's even more intimidating without them. He is powerful enough himself. He doesn't need to be protected. His dark eyes seem to know all. With the way he's looking at me, you'd think he's known me for years. I have no secrets, only things that I haven't yet admitted to him. Mr. Fame must feel like a god sometimes—only showing himself to the people he controls like dolls stringed to their master's hands.

"Excuse me?" I say, even though I already know what he's referring to. It's the ghost in the room, the scar that I wear on my face.

Mr. Fame raises an eyebrow. "You know what I'm talking about."

So he was right. He really does have eyes all around the city. When he saw my perfect crime, I wonder what ran through his mind. Whether he was thrilled like getting a hit of a drug's purest form.

"Stand up," Mr. Fame says.

I listen. His voice has a commanding note that makes it impossible to refuse. I know that if I want to save Zion, I have to play by Mr. Fame's rules. Let myself be a doll for these two months and hope that it doesn't end up dictating the rest of my life. And I don't know whether Mr. Fame's grip on me will ever end. His games and his rules are like planks of wood hammered into my history. It will follow me forever.

The girl of the outskirts, the dishwasher who loves her family and nothing else, is already dissolving. Maybe this was Mr. Fame's goal after all. His stars are haunted people who are not the strongest at all—just good at being the most obedient and malleable.

"You are a strong girl," Mr. Fame says. "In terms of ruthless moments in the past four games, you might just take the cake."

I shake my head like he's missed the point. "I did it for Jungkook."

Mr. Fame wears the littlest hint of a smile. "You can tell yourself that. But it was for you too—your vengeance come to life."

I keep my eyes locked on him. I may be intimidated, but he doesn't spark fear in me like he did when I first met him. These games have changed me, and so has taking several lives.

"I will keep a special eye on you and Jungkook," he says. "I don't like to pick favorites, but the two of you are an interesting dynamic. If you two survive and win, I'll take you both out for a nice dinner."

I stare into his eyes, keeping a straight face and not showing how much he disturbs me to talk about dinner while participants in the games are dying right under his nose. "I look forward to it," I say.

He nods, seeming to approve of something I can't put my finger on. "Cosma, good luck."

I stand as he rejoins his bodyguards at the elevator. I realize why he didn't take them with him. He wanted me to trust him. For what reason, I may never know.

I sit back down and wait for Jungkook's prognosis.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Votes and comments are well appreciated!