Ethan stood on the front steps and watched the road beyond the gate.
Amm lingered beside him, hands tucked into his sleeves, looking like a man waiting for the weather to change.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Before she gets here… I need to ask something.”
Amm didn’t turn. “About mind-reading.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “So Greedy Wolf really can overhear what players say?”
“If you speak into a channel that isn’t protected, yes.” Amm’s voice stayed calm. “It’s not magic in the way you want it to be. It’s simpler. He listens, and he remembers.”
Ethan ran a thumb along his knuckle. “Then what about privacy? If I think something—”
“Thinking isn’t talking.” Amm finally looked at him. “If you don’t send it out, he can’t catch it. The danger is habit. Players forget the difference. They treat every thought like a message.”
Ethan exhaled. “So as long as I keep my mouth shut, I’m safe.”
Amm’s expression was unreadable. “Safer.”
“Not safe,” Ethan muttered.
“Nothing is safe,” Amm said, and there was a weary truth in it. “Especially around Nightmare. That thing is not only feeding—it’s watching. It will use any crack it finds.”
Ethan’s gaze drifted to the iron gate, to the empty road.
He didn’t want to do this.
He didn’t want to admit who he was to Huang Yanyan. Not because he didn’t trust her—but because he did.
Trust made you careless. And careless got people killed.
Amm seemed to read the tension in his posture, if not his thoughts.
“You can’t keep pretending,” Amm said. “She’s already involved. She’s been involved since the moment she decided to protect her father’s factories.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “I know.”
“And she’s the one who asked me to make the antidote.” Amm’s gaze was steady. “The Truth Potion New Star uses? She didn’t want you broken under it.”
Ethan blinked. “She—”
“She did.” Amm’s tone softened. “You’re not the only one who knows how ugly this world gets.”
Ethan swallowed, a bitter warmth crawling up his throat.
Amm added, “Besides. If you’re going to fight Nightmare and the Crown Prince, you need allies who can stand in daylight. Miss Warner can.”
Hoofbeats thundered in the distance.
Amm’s head tilted. “She’s here.”
A carriage rolled up the road, wheels snapping over stones. The driver reined in hard. Dust and grass clippings swirled.
A young woman jumped down before anyone could offer a hand.
Huang Yanyan.
She looked different from the girl Ethan had known in the early days—sharper, more controlled. Her clothes were practical and expensive, tailored for travel and meetings, not for comfort. Her hair was tied back. Her eyes were clear, but there was fatigue there too, buried under stubbornness.
She took two steps… then stopped dead when she saw Ethan.
Her gaze pinned him like a dart.
For a second, she looked genuinely uncertain, like the person in front of her didn’t match the voice in her memory.
She said, slowly, “You’re… 67?”
Ethan lifted his hands slightly, palms open, a peace gesture he didn’t know he was making. “Yeah. I’m Player 0067.”
Yanyan’s breath caught.
Amm, mercifully, didn’t hover. He stepped back toward the doorway like he’d suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be, leaving Ethan to take the hit.
Yanyan stared at Ethan as if she expected him to turn into someone else.
Her expression snapped into anger—controlled, but real.
“You didn’t tell me,” she said.
Ethan didn’t flinch. “I couldn’t.”
“That’s not an answer.” She took a step closer. “Do you have any idea how many times I wondered what kind of person you were? You talked to me, warned me, helped me… and you never once said you were right in front of me.”
Ethan felt the old instinct rise—the urge to lie cleanly, to make the problem vanish with a smooth sentence.
He forced it down.
“I was protecting you,” he said. “And your father.”
Yanyan’s eyes narrowed. “By treating me like a local? Like I wouldn’t understand?”
Ethan shook his head. “No. By keeping you off the board.”
She let out a short, sharp laugh. “We’re all on the board, Ethan. The moment the Crown Prince decided he wanted Warner’s factories, we were pieces whether we liked it or not.”
The way she said his name—Ethan—hit him harder than the accusation.
Because it meant she’d already decided to see him as a person, not a number.
Ethan tried again. “Back then, everyone was watching Player 0067. New Star. The royal court. Whatever else is hiding in the dark. If they knew you were connected to me, they’d use you.”
Yanyan’s anger wavered, just a little.
“And if they knew I was a player,” she said quietly, “they’d destroy my father to get to me.”
Ethan’s chest tightened.
She looked away for a second, jaw working, then faced him again.
“The Truth Potion antidote you used?” she said. “I asked Amm to make it. I knew New Star would come for you eventually.”
Ethan stared at her. “So you really are…?”
“A player,” Yanyan said. “Same world as you. Different number. Same bad luck.”
The silence after that was thick.
Two people who’d shared messages across a dead channel, now standing a few feet apart with too much history and not enough time.
Yanyan’s voice softened. “I should’ve told you sooner too.”
Ethan wanted to say a dozen things. Thanks. Sorry. I’m glad you’re alive.
Instead, he managed, “So… we’re finally meeting.”
Yanyan huffed, the corner of her mouth twitching despite herself. “Yeah.”
Neither of them knew what to say next.