"Adonis?"
Rash called out to me while I lay sprawled across my bed. I was exhausted—too tired to move much—but I still turned my head toward him.
"Yeah?"
Rash leaned against my bedframe, his elbows resting on the mattress. His chin sat in his hands as he stared at the stone wall beside me.
For a while, he said nothing.
His mouth opened. Then closed. And opened again.
As if he were searching for the right words.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"I've been curious about this for a while now, but I didn't say anything because it seemed personal."
He nudged his head toward the wall.
"But we've grown pretty close, so I'll just ask."
"What's the reason behind these numbers?"
My eyes widened slightly at his question. I had known he would ask one day. Even so, hearing the question caught me off guard.
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I turned my head toward the wall.
A grey stone wall, just like every other wall in this place. But unlike the others, this one was covered in numbers, written in clean lines. They were once a bright crimson, but the red had long since faded into a murky brown.
I looked at the numbers and thought back to the beginning.
My eyes closed as I sank into my memories.
To the first days I had spent in this hell.
To the reason I had started writing them in the first place.
Then I opened them again and, while still looking at the wall, I answered.
"So I won't forget."
My voice was soft.
"The other teens who died by my hand… or beside me in the arena. I remember their faces. I remember how they died. But in order not to forget them, I wrote down their numbers."
Rash listened in silence.
After a short pause, he asked.
"But why remember?"
My gaze remained fixed on the wall as I raised my right hand and placed it against the stone.
"They're the reason I'm still alive today. Because I killed them. Or because they died. That's why I survived."
I paused.
My fingers brushed lightly over the rough surface.
"But that's not the only reason. They were all like me. Taken from their homes and families. They lost their freedom and became slaves. Then they were thrown into this arena and ordered to kill one another."
"They all had dreams."
"Just like me."
"They wanted to survive."
"Just like me."
"But they all died here. In this place, among thousands of others. With nobody even remembering their names… or how hard they fought to live one more day."
I swallowed.
Then continued.
"So I decided I would do it."
"I would remember."
"How they died and the number that was written on their shirt. I would write it down here, on this wall."
"Maybe it's only something I do to make myself feel better. But I'll remember every one of them. And I'll carry their numbers with me until my tomorrow ends."
At last, I turned away from the wall and looked back at Rash.
"Because they're the reason I'm alive."
Rash didn't look at me.
He looked at the wall.
At the countless numbers covering the stone beside my bed.
Silence settled over us for a while.
Then, slowly, his lips curved into a small smile.
He turned his head and looked straight at me.
"That sounds beautiful."
It was the last thing Rash said that evening.
***
Another morning arrived with the familiar sound of the door opening.
A guard stepped inside, placed a crate of food on the table, set down a fresh barrel of water, and then left again.
As usual, some of the teens stirred in their beds at the noise, but only for a moment. They soon sank back into sleep.
I was the only one fully awake.
Stretching my arms, I climbed down from my bed. But unlike usual, another sound followed as my feet touched the stone floor. It came from the bed beneath mine.
Rash.
The guard's entrance had woken him as well, and now he stared up at me with sleepy eyes as I stood there in front of his bed.
For a few moments, neither of us moved.
Then—
"Gaaahh…"
Rash let out a long yawn and stretched before rubbing his eyes.
"Going to train?"
His voice was hazy.
"Yeah."
I answered shortly and turned away, expecting him to roll over and fall back asleep.
But instead—
"Wait. I'll come too."
I turned my head back in surprise.
He usually kept sleeping.
Rash threw his legs over the side of the bed, stood up slowly, and walked past me.
"Wow. I slept so well, I'm not even tired."
As he reached the table, he looked back and saw me still standing there and staring at him.
"Come on. Thought you wanted to train?"
His words broke me out of it, and I walked over.
"No, I was just surprised that you'd come train with me."
Rash smiled faintly while rummaging through the crate.
"Yeah, surprising for me too. But I'm already awake now, so…"
He shrugged and continued digging through the crate.
A moment later, he pulled both hands out—filled with bread and meat—enough for at least three or four people.
Not caring about my stare, he cradled the pile casually in his arms and turned, leaving the cell.
I shook my head, took one piece of bread and one piece of meat for myself, and followed him out.
In the corridor, I quickly caught up to him.
He was walking slowly. Almost as if he had been waiting for me.
When I stepped beside him, he glanced at the food in my hands.
Step.
Then stopped.
I halted beside him and looked at him, confused.
He didn't speak and just stared at the bread and meat in my hands. Then slowly looked into my eyes. Then back to the food. Then back to me.
That happened several times.
Finally, I asked, annoyed.
"What?"
Rash sighed deeply.
Then he looked at me with what could only be described as disappointment.
"Adonis…"
He nudged his head toward my hands.
"What is this?"
I frowned.
"Food?"
Another heavy sigh left him.
"Oh wow, really? Thanks. I had no idea that was food, you genius."
His sarcasm annoyed me, but before I could retort, he continued.
"I mean, why do you have only one piece of bread and one piece of meat?"
I tilted my head at his question.
"Because that's all I need?"
"Tsk."
He clicked his tongue and turned forward, starting to walk again.
I followed him, still confused.
Before I could ask what his problem was, he spoke again.
"Adonis, as I am older and your big brother, I have to say I'm deeply disappointed in you."
My head snapped toward him.
"Disappointed—"
Then I stopped and glared at him.
"No, wait. What do you mean with 'big brother'?!"
But Rash ignored me completely and continued in a calm tone.
"Tsk. I really do have to teach you everything."
"What?"
He stopped walking and turned toward me.
"Look, Adonis."
He gestured toward the food in my hands.
"You have to be greedy."
"Greedy?"
Now I was truly confused.
Where was this conversation even going, and why?
Rash, however, stayed serious.
"This is really important. So listen closely."
By then, we had both stopped walking entirely and faced each other in the corridor.
"Be greedy. In life, there's no time to think about conscience or other people. First, you have to think about yourself and what you can gain. That's how you survive."
The conversation turned strangely serious out of nowhere, but I kept listening.
"If someone hands out food for free, you take as much as you can, even if you aren't hungry. You take it. Why? Simple. Do you know what tomorrow brings? No. Maybe tomorrow we won't get any food at all. Maybe this is the last chance you'll have to eat. So take everything you can."
He paused for a breath before continuing.
"And this doesn't only apply here. It applies to everything."
"If a merchant offers you ten fortis for a loaf of bread, you don't just accept it. You push for at least twelve, right?"
I nodded absentmindedly, and he continued.
"Be greedy."
"If someone offers you a finger, try taking the whole hand. Especially if it's about money or treasure."
He paused as if to give his words more weight.
"Remember this."
"You can never have too much."
"Only too little."
Then his eyes locked onto mine.
"So be greedy, Adonis. Take everything you can."
"That is survival."