[ The Real Trial ]

Geoffrey grabbed his fork and stabbed what he believed to be marinated beef.

The taste was unlike anything he had before. It was salty and sweet, yet it smelled nothing like it. He glanced at Emilia, who still hadn't taken a single bite.

"It's getting cold," he said.

"You saw my balance. I've already lost. The trials only just begun, yet I failed right away."

"Hmm," voiced Geoffrey pensively.

She looked down.

"If you hadn't stopped me, I at least would have control over my own death."

"You're already dead."

Geoffrey's answer was slightly colder. 

"I know... I know."

Geoffrey lay down his fork, putting both elbows on the table while resting his chin on his hands.

"This world we're in. You've misunderstood it."

Emilia looked confused.

"You're not the only one who did, however, more than half the class did."

"What do you mean?"

"I've said it earlier. Death made it sound like she was being merciful. That she's giving us a chance to redeem ourselves, right our wrongs, fix our mistakes. That if we did well here, we could save ourselves from eternal suffering, and even more, breathe fresh air again."

Emilia was following along, nodding while carefully considering his words.

"She's not being merciful. She's not teaching us a lesson. She's not helping us fix our mistakes. She's punishing us. A punishment we all deserve, but one nonetheless."

"What does it change? Whatever it's categorized as, we're here now, and—"

"It changes a lot. Betrayal, deceit, cheating." He paused. "Suffering."

His eyes remained neutral, but his words were pounded into her mind.

"This place isn't fair, and it will never be. Those who understand that might make it out, those who don't will be stabbed in the back until they do."

"But Death..." she started, in thought.

"Furthermore, your balance being in the negative doesn't mean you'll be sent to hell."

She then paused, processing everything that had happened so far.

"How do you know all of this? How can you be so sure? We've only been here a day, yet you're saying this place is designed to have us suffer while everything so far screams otherwise."

"I've been through the trials once before."

The silence that settled between them was heavy, her eyes scrutinizing his expression that let nothing through.

She tried weighting the possibility that he was lying.

"How do I know you're saying the truth?" she asked.

"You can't. From here on out, you should assume everyone has their own agenda."

Including me.

"And you should eat," he added.

She took a moment to consider the plates before her, ultimately taking a jab at the shrimps.

Her expression had changed, Geoffrey could tell. The person before him was colder and distant. The person she slowly became was the only version that had a chance at survival.

The way she tried to help him the day before was noble, and just. She probably failed someone before by remaining a passive outsider, Geoffrey thought. One idea among many others as to why she went out of her way to help.

Whatever the reason was, however, she needed to change. He needed her to change.

The nicer Emilia was of no use to him, but that version of her was already a pale shadow, barely present, thanks to Jet.

"If you've been here before, then you know what's to come," she said.

"Yes, and no. I've been through the trials, but they changed. There wasn't a school, but the systems in place were similar. We had points we could spend on things, and groups were formed. We competed against other groups, making our way up until we went through the final trial."

"How many of you made it out?" she asked.

"Only me."

Those words were heavy in meaning as memories flashed through Geoffrey's mind.

Emilia was carefully listening, her mind open.

"It's fine if you don't believe me."

She changed the subject, taking Geoffrey by surprise.

"Why did you go out of your way to find me?" she asked. "And giving me food, however you acquired it."

"I can use you. You have no use, if you're sending yourself into the deepest parts of hell on the first day."

Emilia's hands were shaking. He could see the anger behind her fiery eyes that looked at him with disdain.

"You're no better than Jet."

Her tone was harsh and cold.

And she was right.

"Everyone else plays pretend, while deep down they're doing the same thing. I'm honest."

She put her knife and fork down loudly, pushing her chair back.

"I have no intentions of being 'used' by anyone. That includes you."

"I can help you have your revenge."

She was about to stand up, but paused.

"How?"

"Tell me what happened."

She crossed her legs, resting against the backrest in a manner that reminded him of Death.

She looked commanding and heated, most of that heat directed toward Jet. 

She was nice on the outside, like the eye of a storm that was brewing inside.

Someone you wouldn't want to disturb for any reason whatsoever.

If she's so assertive, then why was she about to take her own life?

"First, tell me how you're getting this food? This has to be locked behind a higher grade. Even if you convinced Trev to give it to you, if we're caught..."

"There are two types of rules. Those that lose you points on your grade—like the trials—and those that can be broken."

She did a double take. His way of saying it was quite casual, but the point was getting across.

Their grades was the only important thing.

Emilia uncrossed her legs, pulling her seat toward the table and getting herself closer to Geoffrey.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not the only one who realized it. Jet too, and many others, I would guess."

"So all the rules just have no meaning? We can do anything we want and everything is just a suggestion? Are you serious?"

"That's simplified, but yes."