"Do I look familiar to you?"

"You certainly do. What about me? Do I remind you of someone?"

"Yes. Yes, you do."

Rebecca waits in the dusty, shadowed corridor between the common room and the storage room, after an intrusive search by the same spider drones they encountered on the roof. She presses her back against the wall, struggling to steady herself against the racing nerves within. Next to her, Reese bounces on his toes, jogging in place with his hands clasped behind his head. Even he feels the weight of the countless eyes watching and waiting for them behind that door.

When the door swings open, Reese grabs Rebecca's hand, and they step through together. Rebecca blinks several times, struggling to comprehend the scene before her: thousands of people are seated in tiers, reminiscent of a grand cinema or ancient coliseum. They stand on a wooden balcony, two times larger than the ones in their rooms.

The audience erupts in a wave of clamor—an uproar of cheers, gasps, and the roar of a million screaming voices. The camera lights flare, capturing their every move. The massive screens around them flicker to life, showcasing a montage of their relationship thus far: stolen glances in the corridors and common room, fleeting touches during meals, and the haunting image of them hugging on the rooftop. That clip has no sound, but Rebecca still can't believe she didn't notice the security camera up there.

To her left, a set of stairs descends to the stage where the hosts await them. From this point, she notices that the hosts are perched on a floating platform several meters above the real arena—the battleground where the contestants will fight.

"What a pleasure, what a pleasure!" the male host exclaims as they reach the stage. "Please, Contestant 13, sit next to me. Did you notice how I'm dressed tonight? I'm trying to mimic your style." His outfit does resemble the type of clothes that Reese often wore in his videos prior to the show.

Rebecca then notices that the female host is wearing a tight baby pink dress, reminiscent of a ballerina's tutu, strikingly similar to the one she wore for the premiere of her last dance presentation—the one that resulted in her getting her legs broken. Trying to maintain her balance, she squeezes Reese's hand tightly.

"Yes, yes! That's right! We want to channel your style tonight because... if our audience is a swarm of bees, you two are the honey!" the female host exclaims. "And let me take a moment to admire how beautiful you look this evening, Contestant 42."

Rebecca is wearing a dazzling red dress with a high slit, which she found on her bed after training. A message on her phone instructed her to take a shower and slip into the dress. Beside her, Reese looks sharp in a black suit, a single red rose peeking from his chest pocket.

"Aren't you going to offer a compliment to Mr. Handsome over here?"

"I can't, I'm afraid I'm going to blush."

They are invited to sit; the plush velvet of the interview chair envelops Rebecca completely. Reese settles into his seat with practiced ease, while the hosts take their places on either side of them.

"So, how do you feel about being the number one couple on the entire Internet?"

Reese responds instantly, flashing a charming, slightly crooked grin that captivates the camera. His voice, smooth as melted chocolate, fills the studio. "Well, we're not a couple yet, so guys, don't scare her away, alright?" His gaze sweeps over the audience.

Rebecca offers a tight, almost imperceptible smile. The ambiguity in Reese's response keeps her safely on the sidelines. In that moment, she feels deep gratitude—both for sharing the interview with him and for his subtle mastery of manipulation.

The male host continues. "The viewers are captivated by your chemistry, the undeniable spark between you two. Some are even calling it the most genuine romance Live has ever seen. What do you say to that?"

That one comment—"Poor girl, doesn't she see he's playing her?"—infiltrates Rebecca's thoughts. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feels unsteady, as if the whole stage dangles from frayed ropes.

Reese leans closer, locking eyes with her a moment longer than necessary. "Genuine," he murmurs, his voice barely rising above the cheers—intentionally too soft for the hosts to catch. Then he turns to them. "What can I say? I'm always one hundred percent genuine." He pauses before adding with a hint of irony, "At least, that's what I tell myself." The entire arena erupts in laughter.

"Oh, Contestant 13, you kill me." The female host begins, dabbing at the tears in her eyes with a tissue. "So, Contestant 42, you've shown us a self-preservation side of you. Some people call that being individualistic or egotistical, but I like to think it's self-preservation. Am I right?" Rebecca doesn't have time to respond—fortunate since she struggles to find an answer to a question that feels more like an insult. The host continues, "And staying away from bad guys like Contestant 13 is a smart move, I know that. But isn't he everything you've ever wished for?"

For the first time since she burned down her studio, regret washes over her. She wishes, with all her heart, that she could set this arena on fire instead—with the hosts trapped inside. Before she allows herself to speak, however, she draws a deep breath and counts to five, relying on an old technique from her dancing days to steady herself.

"I mean, who wouldn't want a love story with one of their celebrity crushes?" she finally replies, and the audience swoons as expected. "But if I have to go, I wouldn't want it to be with a broken heart."

To her surprise, most of what she says rings true. Reese must sense it too, as he gazes at her with genuine tenderness.

But her honesty doesn't seem to resonate with the cheerful atmosphere of the hosts. The male host leans in, a playful smirk on his face, and says, "Oh, honey, you're bringing us down." For a moment, Rebecca twitches, momentarily forgetting the type of company she's in. The host, unsatisfied with his previous remark, turns to Reese, covering the side of his mouth. "I'm starting to think you can do better," he adds. Reese's expression hardens; rather than responding with a smile, he shoots the host a piercing glare that speaks volumes.

"Of course you'd think that," he retorts. "I've noticed your cheap taste."

The male host is caught off guard by Reese's unexpected comeback and stumbles for a moment.

The female host quickly steers the conversation back to Rebecca. "I hear you didn't even check if your studio was empty when you set it ablaze."

"It was late, I assumed—" Rebecca stops, fully aware of how inadequate her answer sounds.

"You know what?" Reese suddenly interjects. "No one cares about these questions. Can I ask them..." He gestures toward the audience. "One little thing?"

"This is unusual," the female host replies, hesitant to deny him the opportunity, especially with the audience cheering for him to engage. Seizing the moment, Reese strides to the edge of the platform. "Have you heard this song... probably one of the best that I've written in my humble opinion: 'I Was Born'?"

The audience erupts in cheers.

"Would you like to sing it with me?"

Though visibly disappointed by the shift away from his dramatic script, the male host maintains his professionalism. He forces a smile and remarks, "Very entertaining, Contestant 13," and adds, "I'm sure they can hear your songs at home. Let's allow them to see a more personal side of you, shall we?"

But Reese isn't singing anymore—the audience is. He stands at the edge of the floating stage, arms raised, letting the crowd's voice wash over him. When they finish, they call for one more song. Reese fuels their energy, tossing playful jabs at the hosts' attempts to steer the conversation, clearly signaling that he's won this round.

***

Author note: Yey, another part of chapter three is out. I really liked how this one turned out. I hope you do too.