Chapter 2

Earnest felt his right foot going numb. He shifted his weight to his left leg, adjusting his stance while trying to appear calm, though sweat was already forming on his forehead.

He'd noticed the small metal dot on Earl's chest earlier. A camera. But not your average bit of kit—this was military-grade, satellite-linked. The kind used when someone important was watching.

His stomach sank.

This isn't just some rich nutter's murder hobby. It might be a live broadcast.

If that was true, then this wasn't just about killing. It was about performance. Drama. Maybe even… hope. And betrayal.

They don't just want fear. They want a story.

Taking a deep breath, he moved his gaze away from the camera and looked at the gun pointed at Dr. Chan.

"Could you please lower the gun? We're not a threat," he said, raising his hands.

Earl remained silent, his gun still aimed steadily at Dr. Chan's chest. His eyes flickered slightly, as if listening to a faint sound.

"I heard it. There's a weapon hidden in his body!"

Dr. Chan was startled. He did have a small taser in his pocket, a tool used in the lab for handling out-of-control experiments. It was compact, resembling a metal box. But the switch made no sound—how could Earl"hear" it? Or was he bluffing?

With no choice, Dr. Chan slowly pulled the taser from his pocket and handed it to the hunter.

Earl stared at the taser, blinked, and twitched his mouth.

"Cigarettes? No, no, I don't smoke anymore. They said it interferes with tracking scores."

Dr. Chan blinked."Ah… right. Good call. Healthy lungs and all that."

He said casually, putting the taser back in his pocket.

Earnest frowned. Earl's reaction was odd—not just observation, but as if he were communicating or correcting his own perception.

"You didn't pull the trigger," Earnest said slowly. "Why?"

Earl didn't answer. His eyes twitched, flicking toward the camera on his chest, then back.

"You were waiting," Earnest guessed."For them to say something. Or… maybe for a score to update?"

Earl gave a dry laugh, amused but guarded."You think you're clever."

"Not clever," Earnest replied, keeping his voice low."Just observant."

A pause. Wind rustled through the trees.

"It's not about killing, is it?" Earnest continued."It's about making it interesting. They don't reward death—they reward performance."

Earl's grip on his rifle tightened. His lips curled slightly.

"You think this is a show?" he said, voice low and dangerous.

"Isn't it?" Earnest nodded toward the camera."Why else is that thing there?"

Earl's smile flickered."Points don't make you win. They make you... matter."

"To them?"

"To anyone," Earl snapped. Then quieter, almost to himself: "Without points, you're nothing."

Earnest caught the shift in tone—resentment, not pride.

"So what if I offered you something better than a kill?" he said carefully."Something worth... more?"

His eyes flashed with madness, as if fighting an impulse. Taking a deep breath, he suddenly calmed down. "And you think you're smart?" He tilted his head, his twisted smile growing."You think you can figure out the rules? Hahaha—"

He laughed, a dry, suppressed laugh filled with a manic excitement.

Earl fell quiet.

Then, with a tilt of the head, he said—almost conversationally:

"I had a dog once."

Earnest said nothing.

"My father gave it to me. Said every child needs something to take care of." Earl's eyes drifted."Funny thing, though. It wouldn't listen."

He paused, gaze distant, voice soft.

"One day, I opened it up. Just to see what was inside."

Earnest froze. Not daring to breathe.

Earl looked at his hand. Fingers twitching.

"It didn't fight for long. But afterward, my hand... wouldn't stop shaking."

Silence.

Then he laughed. Short, dry, too sharp.

"They said it was just a phase."

He looked at Earnest again—smile gone.

"Still think this is a game?"

After a deep breath, Earl fixed his gaze on Earnest. His eyes now held a glint of danger."You know," he murmured,"I always thought I was free."

His lips twitched. Not a smile—just the edge of one, like he was trying to hold something in.

"You're right… this really is just a performance. But then tell me—why are my scores so awfully low?"

Tears glinted in his eyes. Real ones. His frustration showed now, raw and unfiltered.

"You don't even like killing, do you?" Earnest asked, his voice calm but cutting."It's not fun for you. It's more like you're stuck… stuck in some horrible test you can't walk away from."

Earl didn't laugh this time. His usual twisted grin was gone, replaced by something tired. Hollow.

He glanced down at the camera on his chest, as if checking to see if the eyes behind it were still watching.

"Don't try to understand me," he muttered."You wouldn't want to know how far someone can go… just to prove they exist."

Earnest took a slow, steady breath. Something was clicking into place in his mind.

"You know," he said carefully,"shooting me now might get you—what? Two points? But if you're after something bigger… maybe there's a smarter way."

Earl's gun shifted slightly. His brow twitched.

He hadn't expected this quiet young man to keep up.

"Well, well," Earl sneered, squinting at him. "Seems like you've figured out more than I thought. Go on, then. What else do you know?"

Earnest didn't flinch. "High scores don't come from just killing people," he said."They come from making things… interesting."

For a moment, Earl's pupils shrank. Then his lips curled into a new smile—not his usual unhinged one, but something subtle. Calculating.

Earnest felt a flicker of hope.

Still breathing. That's something.

He wasn't a stranger to dangerous situations. Cliff diving, mountain biking—anything with an edge. Those things taught him a rule he lived by:

Never stop moving when you're standing on the edge. If you do, you fall.

His thoughts spun fast. Maybe there was still a chance here. Maybe Earl wasn't the only one watching. And maybe… someone wanted him to survive.

This game, Earnest thought, it has rules. Hidden ones. And if killing isn't the only way to score... then what is?

He had to be careful. Say the wrong thing, and it was over.

"These points," Earnest said slowly,"they're not just about taking down targets, are they? There's more to it. Care to tell me what they're really for?"

His fingers brushed the camera on his own chest without thinking, and his mind flashed back to a cold memory—his father's distant expression, the way he was always overlooked.

His younger brother would inherit the business.

His older brother would marry into power.

And him?

His only way to be seen was to earn points. To survive this twisted game and prove he mattered.

Earl understood that. He knew the stakes.

This once-every-four-years hunting season? It was his shot. His ladder. His chance to get noticed by the people at the top.

His older brother wouldn't dare take the 1% fatality risk.

His younger brother was too busy partying and racing supercars to care.

But Earl? He had nothing to lose. And everything to prove.

Not that he'd ever explain that—to a supposed lamb waiting to die?

Not a chance.