By morning, three more were dead.
Not from monsters.
From people.
The Tower hadn't sent beasts that night. No mutated wolves or distorted humanoids with mouths where their eyes should be. No death from outside.
It had come from within.
---
No one wanted to say it aloud, but we all knew.
We weren't a group anymore.
We weren't classmates.
We weren't allies.
We were prey.
To each other.
And the Tower loved it.
> [Hunger Gauge: Lv.2 — Mild Aggression Detected]
Suppression protocols weakening. Instincts rising.
Emotional regulation: compromised.
I clenched my fists, not out of courage but to stop them from trembling.
It wasn't just fear.
It was the hunger. Gnawing. Whispering. Shaping thoughts I didn't want to claim as mine.
Eat or be eaten.
That's what it said.
---
The others were whispering now. About me. About Jiwoon. About who might be next. Eyes darted like knives. Conversations stopped when I walked near.
And that was when it happened.
---
A scream. Sudden. Sharp. Not from pain.
From rage.
It tore through the fog, raw and feral.
We all turned.
---
A boy—Tae Minho—stumbled into the clearing, soaked in sweat and blood, dragging a limp body.
Do Yewon.
The quiet girl. Always with a book in her lap. Always near the edge of the group.
Now her eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. A thick red line crossed her throat, jagged, torn.
"She was plotting something!" Minho bellowed. "She tried to take our food stash! I caught her crawling away with it, like a damn rat!"
His voice cracked. His hands trembled. Not from guilt.
From adrenaline.
"She would've killed us in our sleep! You think she was innocent? Huh?! You think she was just going to share?"
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The body lay there, still. Flies already circling.
Jiwoon stood nearby, arms crossed. His face unreadable.
Minho's eyes darted across the group.
"You all want to survive, right?" he snarled. "Then we make a choice. We pick seven to live. The rest…"
He dragged his thumb across his throat.
"…don't get to be a threat."
---
That was his proposal:
Kill twenty-three now.
Live.
Eat.
Survive.
He expected panic. Or maybe cheering. But what he got was silence.
---
I stepped forward.
He grinned, like a gambler seeing a card flip in his favor.
"You agree?" he asked.
"No," I said.
Then I punched him in the face.
---
> [Hidden Trait Activated: Rewritten Protagonist – Moral Anchor]
When the story threatens to collapse into chaos, your actions may stabilize a scene.
Warning: This puts you at the center of narrative backlash.
---
Minho went down hard, the crack of fist against jaw echoing louder than it should have in the misty morning air.
He groaned, one cheek swelling already, blood at the corner of his mouth.
I didn't let him get up.
"We're not voting on who lives," I said, breath heavy. "If the Tower wants us to kill each other, it'll have to work harder."
I looked at the others. My voice caught slightly—but I pushed through.
"We're not beasts."
But their expressions didn't soften.
They didn't look relieved.
They looked calculating.
They were measuring me.
My strength.
My hunger level.
How long I'd last.
---
That night, no one spoke around the fire.
There were no tears for Do Yewon.
No questions about Minho.
Only chewing.
Low, slow, mechanical.
Every bite tasted like guilt.
But we swallowed anyway.
---
Later, I found Jiwoon at the edge of the camp.
He sat with his legs crossed, whittling a stick into a spearhead.
"You really think that speech did something?" he asked without looking up.
"No."
"Good. Because Minho's not giving up. He's recruiting."
I frowned. "How many?"
Jiwoon gave me a sideways glance. "Last count? Thirteen. He's calling them 'Survivors First.'"
He paused.
"They outnumber us three to one."
---
I sat beside him.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then, I asked quietly:
"How many chapters did your version have?"
He stopped carving. "Five hundred and twelve."
I blinked.
"…Mine had four hundred."
Jiwoon gave a crooked smile. "Guess we're in the director's cut."
---
> [Devourer's Whisper Detected]
"Seven lights… Twenty-three shadows…"
"Let the feast begin."
---
Fog drifted lower over the camp like a living thing. It crawled across the ground, smothering the trees, muting the moonlight.
And from within the mist—
Screams.
Not of surprise.
Not of fear.
Of conflict.
War.
Someone had attacked.
Someone had struck first.
And factions were colliding.
---
Minho had begun his purge.
---
I didn't sleep.
Couldn't.
Every rustle sounded like an ambush. Every whisper a betrayal.
My stomach twisted. My limbs twitched.
> [Hunger Gauge: Lv.3 — Impulse Suppression Failing]
Fight-or-feed response activating.
I curled my fists into the earth, breathing slowly.
Arien sat nearby, silent. She was sharpening her dagger with deliberate, rhythmic strokes.
Her blade caught the firelight with each pass. Her face was calm. Too calm.
"Tomorrow," she whispered without looking at me, "someone else dies."
Then she turned.
"Maybe me. Maybe you."
---
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know anymore.
---
Somewhere in the forest, laughter rang out.
Then it turned into a scream.
Then silence.
---
This wasn't the First Floor.
This was a mirror.
And it showed us who we really were.
---
> [System Update: Tower Sync in Progress]
Story divergence detected.
Hostile scenarios increasing.
Survivor count predicted to decrease rapidly.
> New Trait Option Unlocked: [Blood-Linked Resonance]
Description: Forge a bond with another Reader. Shared death. Shared strength. Cannot be undone.
---
I stared at the message.
A choice.
A bond.
Jiwoon hadn't seen it yet.
But I had to decide.
Alone.
Because when the Tower starts offering alliances, it doesn't mean it's helping you.
It means something worse is coming.
Something you can't face alone.
---
To be continued...