"Robin!" Eleanor clenched her fists, pounding furiously against the glass door.
The door retracted, and her fists hit the wall instead.
It was painful, yet numb, as she continued to hammer at the wall.
Her small fists wore through the skin, blood seeping out, staining the wall a chilling red. But the wall still stood, unyielding, showing no signs of opening.
Eleanor used all her strength but could not break through. Her hands slowly slid down from the door. Her despair, etched in blood, made her look like a lifeless doll.
"Robin, I can't break this wall, I'm sorry, I can't save you…"
Eleanor knelt on the floor, helpless, staring at the white wall that separated life from death.
Her body felt drained of blood, her limbs cold.
Robin... That lofty, moody, somewhat odd man, had met his end because of her...
Tears welled up in Eleanor's eyes, rolling down her cheeks. If it wasn't for her, Robin wouldn't have died. It was her fault, her incompetence. She hadn't found Bernard, hadn't found Caleb, and now Robin was gone.
Eleanor covered her face with her hands, letting the tears flow freely.
She should have stopped him from following her. Then he wouldn't have died.
Thinking of Robin covered in blood, Eleanor's heart clenched and her frail body shivered. She leaned against the wall, hugging her knees, burying her face in her arms. The exhaustion from Robin's death, her physical weariness and mental collapse left her faith in survival shattered.
She felt unworthy of life, of facing anyone, especially Katharine.
"Please, the last player, return to your room. The ninth round will start tomorrow. Please prepare in advance."
The mechanical voice chimed, but Eleanor didn't hear it. She just sat against the wall in silence.
Backstage, the surveillance feed stopped, and 2-7 smirked, turning to Mr. Nine.
His slender, pale hands were clenched into fists, blood dripping onto his trousers and the floor. The dripping sound was soft, almost inaudible, but 2-7 could hear and see it.
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