Obsession... What's That? I Just Wish Someone Would Help Me Escape - Chapter 82
Justina gestured to high-ranking priests, who nodded and moved to carry out her instructions.
She glanced at Johann and Enrique, a playful light in her violet eyes.
“Best to do it quickly, yes? The edification, I mean.”
Johann, face blank, slowly pulled a hand from his pocket, revealing an extended middle finger aimed directly at Justina.
“No way, you lunatic.”
Instant refusal. What?
In the original, he’d complied without question and then… well, that was when things got complicated…
Blinking, I looked around and realized we were already in the underground holding cells beneath the arena.
Had the storyline changed?
“Not that it matters to me.”
I decided not to dwell on it.
It just meant skipping over a scene or two. It didn’t concern me if certain “scenes” were cut—unless I was fated to get tangled up with these heartthrobs myself. In that case, I might feel a little put out.
“No, definitely annoyed.”
If I skipped edification, it’d be a death sentence when the time came for my power to break loose.
Wasn’t there some terribly seductive wording? Something like, “They thirsted, grasping desperately as if at water…” in the original’s description of the first edification?
Thrown off by the unexpected turn, I forced myself to focus. I had to hide my powers and ensure I won against Grandis.
The rest I could deal with later.
* * *
“So it’s the final round.”
The team combinations and order were decided in an almost laughable manner—by random draw.
A rookie guard smirked as he noted down the results.
True to Grandis’s information, Number 49 had been placed on a team with Numbers 1 and 2, assigned as Team E, last in the order.
Another senior guard sidled up to Josef, who was still trying to calm his racing heart, and dropped a hint.
“Josef, I heard you borrowed money from more than just me. Want a tip? Bet on Number 12. A sect priest is backing him, planning to give him a winning streak so he can join the Dark Order. Probably just selling him off to some devout follower for a hefty price, though.”
The rookie guard scoffed internally, assuming the senior guard was deliberately giving him false information.
Josef had already brought all his savings from the dorm safe and borrowed a considerable sum from other senior guards.
His senior gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder before continuing.
“Still, don’t go overboard; just keep it casual, like we’re all doing. Lots of interference from different groups, so things could change. And even if your guy’s team wins, you get nothing if he’s killed or incapacitated.”
Hah, they’re lying through their teeth to make sure I lose, and now they’re pretending to give advice.
Josef, giddy at the thought of striking it rich, ignored the advice completely.
With the winnings, he’d leave this godforsaken island and live in luxury in the capital.
He imagined himself owning a grand estate, indulging in a life of idleness and excess.
“This will be the last time I’ll hear any worthless advice from you, seniors.”
“What did you just say, Josef?”
Josef, having secretly altered the match order, handed over the final roster to the astonished senior guard, his face a mask of smugness.
“After the Winners’ Match, I’m quitting this miserable island duty for good.”
The senior guard scowled at Josef, thrown off by his sudden change in attitude.
“I gave you that tip, and this is the thanks I get? You owe me a lot of money, Josef!”
“Your information was worthless. I’ll win and pay you back twice over. Just you wait.”
“You’d better mean that.”
The senior glared at the cocky rookie and let out a scoff.
“Arrogant punk. As soon as the match is over, pay up. I’ll make sure you understand what happens if you don’t.”
The senior walked away with a chilling warning, but paused when he glanced at the match roster, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“That’s odd, why’s it different from the original order? Was he trying to maximize the win streak’d benefits?”
The rookie smirked, listening to the senior mutter.
See? You tried to fool me into betting on Number 12, but I wasn’t buying it.
But when the Winners’ Match finally began, Josef’s face drained of all color.
The team he’d marked as first, Number 49’s team, had been moved to the final match.
With all the meddling, someone must’ve changed the order again.
“Still… the 113-fold payout is guaranteed.”
He reassured himself, clutching his chest in a feeble attempt to soothe his nerves.
