The cafeteria buzzed with noise.
Candidates filled the tables, eating breakfast and talking loudly about training, rankings, and the upcoming Matchday 5.
Laughter echoed across the room.
But far away from that lively atmosphere…
In a silent section of the facility…
Farouk sat alone in the white isolation room.
The room felt colder today.
Or maybe it was just his mind.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.
His thoughts were spinning.
This shouldn't have happened.
His jaw tightened.
"If I hadn't lost to Daniel…"
He clenched his fists.
"…none of this would have happened."
The words escaped his mouth quietly.
Everything traced back to that match.
His defeat.
His humiliation.
His mistake.
Farouk leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
Then another thought surfaced.
A darker one.
Why did Timor abandon me?
His breathing slowed.
He had followed the rules.
He had done everything the Master asked.
So why was he the one left behind?
Why was he the one taking the fall?
Farouk shook his head slowly.
"No…"
"They planned this."
The realization made his chest tighten.
"They knew this could happen."
Sacrifices.
The Master had warned them.
Farouk laughed bitterly.
"So I was the sacrifice."
Suddenly—
The metal door opened.
Several figures dressed in white entered the room.
At the front walked a woman.
Her white clothing flowed slightly as she moved.
Her face was hidden behind a white mask.
But Farouk already knew who it was.
Maeve.
The Assistant Director of the OOTP.
She walked slowly toward him.
"Well, Farouk."
Her voice was calm, almost gentle.
"Are you ready to tell me the truth about your group?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Or would you prefer to keep taking the fall for them?"
Farouk didn't answer.
Maeve stepped closer.
Then she reached forward and lightly traced his jawline with one finger.
"You poor boy."
Her voice softened.
"You deserve better than this."
Farouk's eyes narrowed.
Maeve leaned closer.
"Especially when your mother only wants the best for you."
Farouk's eyes widened slightly.
Maeve noticed the reaction.
Her hidden smile grew.
"Think about the deal I offered."
She slowly began walking around him.
"You tell me a little about your group…"
"…about Timor."
She stopped in front of him again.
"And in return…"
"I'll tell you everything."
Farouk stared at her.
Maeve continued calmly.
"How you were selected."
"How this facility really works."
"And why this entire tournament exists."
The room felt heavier.
Maeve leaned closer again.
Her voice dropped slightly.
"Or…"
She smirked beneath the mask.
"Maybe you want something more than information."
Her finger brushed lightly across his shoulder.
Farouk jerked his head back slightly.
"What the hell are you—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because Maeve was watching him carefully.
Studying every reaction.
Every emotion.
Every weakness.
She wasn't just interrogating him.
She was breaking him down piece by piece.
And Farouk was beginning to realize something terrifying.
In this place…
Everyone was a tool.
Everyone was expendable.
Even him.