The crimson man drummed his fingers on the coffee table. “Don’t keep me waiting. We don’t have all eternity.”

I furrowed my brows and watched him carefully. Despite presently being in such a regal hall, I was acutely aware that a few minutes ago I was in the Culling. I figured I could have been under the effects of a rabdos, though I knew of none that could bring people into strange dimensions. Then again, I didn’t know Everwant could do that either and look how that turned out.

Regardless, there was little else I could do. I approached the crimson man cautiously, ascending the steps up the dais one at a time. Then, watching him like a hawk, I placed myself down on the sofa opposite him. He made no hostile moves. It didn’t ease my nerves.

The crimson man eyed me, nodded in approval of something, then gestured towards a dainty teapot.

“How do you prefer your tea?”

This was all too surreal; I was completely on edge. However, the last thing I needed was to show that weakness to him. Even a demon knew to strike when a human looked weak. It was a great method for catching them off guard. Then again, I still wasn’t sure if he was actually a demon. I did what I always did and answered with a lie. “Six sugars and a touch of vinegar.”

“I meant, do you prefer green or black tea?”

Confused, my eyes were drawn to the teapot. No steam rose from its spout and the only scent that tickled my nose was an overly generous dash of cologne. Conventional thinking would have said that if the tea is already poured, you don’t get to decide what you want. But then again, there was nothing conventional about this place.

“Black,” I said.

The person nodded. He raised the teapot and poured it into one of the teacups. A steaming golden liquid came out and a sharp, earthy scent wafted around me, drowning out the cologne.

“Green tea is excellent for reducing anxiety,” the crimson man prattled on. “It contains a small amount of L-theanine which, along with the aforementioned ability to reduce stress, also reduces insomnia.” He poured out a second cup, likely for himself. “L-theamine is responsible for the unique flavour of tea. The Japanese would call that flavour umami.” He placed the teapot down and raised his own teacup to his lips, saucer poised beneath, and fixed his crimson eyes onto me. “Assuming there are any left.”

I would have sworn he was talking to himself, if it weren’t for the fact that every word he spoke seemed to eat at one of the many questions I had. For what little it was worth, he did sip from his teacup first, meaning it wasn’t poisoned. Furthermore, he swallowed it, meaning he was either a really convincing enepsi who had somehow managed to hide his horn, an estray, or just a regular old human. The first two were seeming increasingly less likely given how strange his behaviour was. Even an estray had some set of rules that governed their behaviour, though they were of their own making. This person, well…

“It’s so refreshingly human to worry about poison,” the masked man said.

My jaw tightened. At this point, I was convinced he could read my thoughts and was trying to think of Enzi’s tits. I mean, that image was… quite profound, very easy to imagine.

The person let out a long sigh and pressed the teacup back down. “Algier, we can’t get anywhere until you cooperate, so if you would please…?”

That all but confirmed that he was reading my mind. And also, it was how he knew I wanted green tea all along. Either that, or it was just a coincidence. Slowly, without losing eye contact with him, I raised my cup, blew it so that the surface was cool, and took a gentle sip. The moment it went down, a sensation radiated through me. Starting from my core, all my stress fled me. Muscles unlocked themselves. Tension disappeared in places where I hadn’t realised I was tense. I sat up straighter—I just realised I had been slouching. When I lowered the teacup again, I let out a long breath of relief. I can’t remember the last time I felt this calm. Even the fact that what I had consumed could not have been tea didn’t irk me.

“Now,” the crimson man said, “you probably have some questions. Let’s get those out the way so that our future conversations may be more productive.”

I spoke without hesitation. “Are you a Marquis?”

The person cocked his head to one side. “Now, what would make you think such a thing?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I’d rather hear your rationale.”

He spoke so firmly that I felt I had no choice but to oblige.

“Firstly, you don’t look human, but you’re nothing like a demon.”

Though his hair marked him as an older gentleman, he lacked the characteristics of a middle aged man: no wrinkles, no flappy cheeks, no blemishes, just smooth pale skin with a leathery quality to it. Whereas a demon always emulated a human within a certain age span, this man was ageless.

“Good,” he replied.

“Secondly, this.” I gestured all around me, at the long, gilded hall.

“Not as good,” the Marquis replied. He took another sip. “I did not create this place, only showed it to you. Well, I did create all this.” He gestured at the teacup and sofas. “But this is only a temporary arrangement.”

I nodded. “The third clue is that—”

“Yes, the mindreading,” he sighed. “I suppose I made that too obvious. Regardless, I must commend you, Algier.”

“On noticing you’re a Marquis?”

“Of course not!” he chuckled dryly. “For your achievements thus far in the Culling.”

“Are you’re going to send me back once we’re done?”

“On the contrary: you never left.”

I furrowed my brows. “How does that work?”

The corner of the Marquis’ mouth ticked up. “I have no doubt you’ll figure it out. After all, your skills of observation and deduction rival that of a demon. Those of induction and interpolating facts from little data, however, are on a tier unlike which any demon could manage. And rather than blasting your way to the finish line by staying doped up on ash, cutting every shady deal you could, or sucking up to the whims of the first demon who pitied you, instead you chose to employ those amazing skills of yours. It’s a difficult path, but one I must commend.”

“It was the hand I was dealt,” I answered simply. “If you’d dropped me in a better place at the start, I might have acted less to your liking.”

The Marquis leaned in and fixed me with a knowing stare. “But Algier, I gave you a great start.”

Despite his claim to want to lighten the mood by answering my questions, the Marquis was being highly evasive. Hell, the guy hadn’t even given his name! Each thread of conversation was gradually being woven back around me, like a web slowly entangling me. Each time I spoke, it got a little harder to move, and soon… I didn’t think he was really there to harm me, but toying with me wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. After all, this was a damned Marquis. Even the Council of Ones was weary of them.

Nobody knew where they had come from, just that, when the invasion of Earth had ended in the demons’ overwhelming victory, the Marquises happened to be there giving out orders like Earth was their home and humans and demons alike were nothing but their guests.

I chose silence this time, deciding not to play his game. If he wanted to tell me something, he could just tell it. After all, he could read my fucking mind.

The Marquis downed the last of his green tea, then poured himself another cup. He stared at the translucent liquid as though in deep contemplation.

“Why do you think you’re here, Algier?”

I stared at him blankly. The calming effect of the tea had worn off entirely now, or perhaps the whole situation was so unnerving that I was rapidly sobering up.

“No, it’s about more than a petty murder,” the Marquis went on. “I’m sure you would have figured out that much via the context of my question. Alright, let me give you a clue. The ratio of demons that win the Culling is nine hundred and forty-four Participants to one winner. The ratio of humans winning, however, is thirty-seven to one.”

About the same as betting straight on a roulette table. It was a statistic I knew too well, and one I’d pondered over many times. My running theory was that humans were less of a threat in the Culling and more of an asset, hence they tended to stick with demons to the very end and win as a group. Few humans ever won alone, which helped bolster the theory.

“But even more strangely,” the Marquis said, “is that the odds of a demon hunter winning is about one thousand to one. I’m sure you’ve wondered about also. As you no doubt noticed with Berlin, this place is a treasure trove for an efficient hunter. Think about it: a perpetual supply of ash, all the rabdoses you could ever want, and a system that rewards you for indiscriminate slaughter. Even a mediocre hunter should find these conditions to be in their favour. So why are they less likely to win than your average demon?”

I glared at the Marquis. He was going to tell me anyway, so why stall instead of giving the answer immediately? Though, admittedly, he had piqued my curiosity.

“The reason why rests at the heart of the problem. What is the Culling, Algier? Oh, no need to bring up all those traumas. It’s rather simple. The Culling is exactly as the name implies: a way to cull what is unwanted. Therefore, in an ideal world, all those who survive are the ones who are wanted.”

The Marquis downed the rest of his teacup and poured a third. I remained perfectly silent throughout. The less I spoke, the more he spoke, and I was happy to let him ramble his secrets to me. I was in completely uncharted waters, here. I needed every advantage I could get, and right now, that meant learning everything I could about a Marquis.

After a long inhale of the tea, the Marquis gave the contents a swish. He didn’t bother drinking this one. When he caught me eyeing him, he raised the teacup slightly. “It’s the third cup,” he suppled, yet that explained almost nothing.

The piano skipped like a broken record. We both eyed it. The music had faded into the background and I’d forgotten—I’d also forgotten that it was playing backwards. The Marquis lowered his teacup and let out a long sigh.

“It seems our time is running short. Though I would have preferred a more Socratic approach to the issue, as that would have helped to break down your walls, I think I’ll just cut to the chase.”

He sat up straight. At once, everything shifted. The coffee table was clear of its contents. The sofas were plain and utilitarian. Mine felt hard and uncomfortable beneath me. Another appeared leaning upside down against the Marquis’ sofa. This one was tattered and worn. Then the teacups were back on the table—three of them, to be exact. The Marquis’ entire outfit had also changed. Embroidered onto his crimson jacket and emblazoned on his mask was the number 3, repeated over and over at various angles. Each time I blinked, there were more 3’s, until soon his clothes were nothing but a mosaic of the number. In a panic, I tried to stand but found my body wasn’t responding. All I could do was witness the world twist itself into a pretzel and listen to the Marquis. The piano skipped more often and more erratically.

“I would like to maintain that ideal, Algier. Of using the Culling to remove what is wrong with the world.”

His voice was growing distant. In fact, he was growing distant. Everything was stretching and distorting. Chandeliers fell and shattered on the walls. Pillars collapsed and folded in on themselves. The infinite length of the hall was twisting at disturbing angles. The Marquis words were barely audible in the mayhem.

“And part of that ideal is letting humans be humans. Hence, you should keep your corruption low or… odds will… no different from a demon.”

I missed part of that last sentence as I snapped awake with a gasp.

“Oh, he’s finally awake,” Markus grumbled. “Can we please go now? Urgh! I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to asking for permission from you lot.”

Toll answered, “We will leave when he is able to move.”

My heart was racing. I was breathing heavily. Sweat covered my brow; my shirt was practically drenched. Completely forgetting I’d been injured the last time I was awake, I shot up and whirled around. It took a moment for me to realise a few things.

One, it was early morning. I’d slept all evening and it was now the fifth day. Not good.

Two, the demons had taken me to the remains of the cliff that Markus had blasted with Monk. The destruction had formed a natural parapet out of fallen rocks, making it a relatively decent stronghold.

Third, none of the bastards seemed particularly worried about me. Especially after all the concern Enzi had shown last night, I at least expected her to—

You have received 16 points (16 shared with Volce) from eliminations.

Volce has shared 66 points from eliminations with you.

You have received 500 points (500 shared with Volce) for eliminating the secret target.

An Accolade has been added to your profile: [A Silent Kill].

Accolades can be redeemed at a Trading Station.

[Corruption] has increased from 9 to 10.

[Affection] with Enzi has increased from 1 to 2.

You now owe the following [Questions]:

Toll: 3 mundane, 5 inquisitive, and 2 seeking (was 1)

The popups hit me so suddenly that I squinted trying to read them. They just jumped at me one at a time. That was the first time it had happened, too. Usually, they only showed up when I wanted to see them. Now it was like they were acting of their own accord. I was too woozy at the time to worry about that, though.

Ignoring my freakout, Markus grinned and clapped his hands. “Right! The human is up and he looks perfectly fine. Now can we go?”

It was only when Markus spoke that I realised I was completely healed. Even the hole that the digresser had carved into my leg on the first day was gone, though it did twinge a little when I put too much pressure on my leg. Furthermore, it hadn’t healed properly and an ugly scar was left in its place. A quick check of every muscle and joint showed them all to be in working order, save for my left shoulder which clicked when I rolled it. Even my clothes had been repaired. That one was a mystery. A Patch-me-up only affected the body—apparently with great effect on humans—so unless I’d suddenly become an enepsi…

Enzi approached and beamed at me. “Algier, I’m glad you’re finally awake. You were out for so long I was starting to think you were in a coma.”

Well, given what had just happened with the Marquis, she probably wasn’t wrong. He did say I hadn’t left the Culling, so I’d probably just gone catatonic while he casually chatted with me. Bastard.

My train of thought trailed off as I realised something was missing. I flexed my right hand. It was empty. I’d lost Möbius.

In a panic, I darted around the rocks in search of the knife. It never even occurred to me that the demons would have stolen it, as irrational as that was. I was convinced that it had left me. However, Volce was the one who found it. Or rather, he was hovering over it and scowling at me.

“It’s right here, coma boy!” he shouted, jutting his toe down at it.

Möbius lay sideways in the air, exactly where I must have dropped it when I passed out. I dived onto it and clutched it close to me. Everything felt right with it in my hands. A cold realisation struck me and I started making accusations at the party.

“Again, Algier,” Enzi said with a sigh, “it’s in your hand. Therefore, nobody took it.”

“Well, I tried to,” Volce grumbled, arms folded. When he caught sight of my expression, he waved his hands at me to ward off any aggression. “Woah, calm down! I was just going to stuff it in my inventory so nobody else could get it. We’re still partners, as much as I hate it,” he mumbled off to the side.

I gave him one final glare before turning away. Without so much as waiting for the demons, I set off southeast, towards the Junction Tower we’d passed a couple days prior.

“Time to form a party,” I called out the demons.

Even with Silica’s implied protection, I still needed to play nice. After all, this was the Ring of Betrayal.