Iliya surveyed the room. His friend Wolf, who looked remarkably composed as he used the corner of his shirt to clean the blood off of a squirming kitten’s mouth. A collapsed antique piano. A young woman fainted in the corner of the room. And two dead bodies- one fresh, and one considerably much more dead than the other, and missing its head.

Iliya felt sick to his stomach. Dizzy. “I’m just gonna,” he gestured at the floor before collapsing to his knees. Iliya leaned over, head between his arms and started to dry heave in a series of heavy pants. Fuck, he should have tried to help Roman. Wolf had told Iliya not to mess with the piano, and he just took it for granted. He should have told Roman. Fuck, fuck, fuck he should have told Roman. He didn’t have much of an attachment to the man, true. And he did try to attack Iliya and Wolf for no good reason. But Iliya found it hard to justify it to himself as he met Roman’s empty eyes. His blue lips, the uneven way at which his neck met his shoulder.

And oh, the way Peaches engulfed that clown’s decaying head… Iliya was going to have nightmares for weeks. He dry heaved a few more times, strings of spit hanging from his mouth.

Iliya felt a hand gently settle on his back. He tensed up, scared, and shot his head up to look at who was touching him. Iliya sighed in relief. It was just Wolf. The taller man looked concerned for Iliya. He looked down at his shirt, which had traces of rotting clown blood on them. Dissatisfied, he wiped away the drool dripping down Iliya’s chin with his hand. They looked at each other- Iliya, still half panicked and Wolf uneasy. Then, Wolf spoke.

“Let me help,” he said.

Wolf helped Iliya to his feet, and then led him out of the room. Peaches trailed behind them. They went into the main room, where the Moderator watched their every move with undisguised interest. And uncharacteristically, Wolf took the initiative to speak again. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Iliya studied his face, and could not find an answer. “For what? We’re okay.”

“I couldn’t get the clown myself.” Wolf said, frustrated. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white with the pressure.

Peaches toddled over to them. “Of course you couldn’t,” she told Wolf disdainfully. “You haven’t even reached level one yet. You’re only as fast as a normal person. You’d have to be at least at level three to catch up to him.”

Iliya grasped on to the lifeline Peaches was offering him. The questions about these games were as good a distraction as any. “Our levels?” He still felt weak and pale, but not even a natural disaster could stop Iliya from asking questions.

Both Iliya and Wolf watched Peaches as she dutifully explained. “The more games you play and the more you use your skills, you level up.” She sniffed at the air. “I think you’re both close to reaching level one. Red will probably hit it just before graduating into a full player but I think Wolf should be able to level up once this game ends.”

“Hey,” Iliya started, offended, “how come he gets to level up before me?” Wolf was starting to look smug.

“You didn’t use your ability in the last game, numbnuts!” Peaches swatted at Iliya. “Summon me as much as possible, and we’ll both get stronger!”

“And me?” Wolf asked. His ability and the skill he received were different from Iliya’s. Iliya had to activate his skill by summoning Peaches and other monsters he would befriend in the games. Maybe he could even level up by befriending more monsters, too. Wolf’s skill was different. Iliya wasn’t sure how exactly it worked, his punching skill. Did he have to yell the name of the skill for it to count, like he was in an anime? Or was it passive? Iliya would choose to assume it was passive, unless proven otherwise.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Peaches assured Wolf. “You’re doing great. And you’ll do even better when you give me that giant salmon you promised.” She licked her lips. “Mm, meat.”

“In some cultures, fish doesn’t count as meat,” Iliya said, distracted. He turned his head to peer back into the room they came from. Wolf noticed and stepped in front of him, blocking his view. There was a fire that was starting to burn in Iliya, telling him to fight with Wolf, or tell him not to treat Iliya like a baby! He was a grown man! But he just felt too tired to pick a fight. Iliya was sure the game had to be over soon. He checked his phone, and noticed he was right. There was only a few minutes left in the game.

Iliya must have been staring at Roman for longer than he had realized.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Iliya asked Wolf. “The game is almost over. Did we get the bad guy? Are we good to cruise to the end?”

“Normally, the end is the most dangerous part of this challenge!” The clown Moderator butted in to their discussion.

“Why is that?” Iliya wondered.

“Well,” the clown began, clearly relishing its captive audience, “usually I wouldn’t just tell a challenger, especially before the challenge ended, but you two are special!” The Moderator winked at Wolf and Iliya. “Would you like to guess how the challenge usually ends? If you’re right, I’ll give you a prize!”

Wolf did nothing, and Iliya gave a half-hearted smile in return. He wasn’t in the mood to play games with the clown anymore. However, he was pretty sure he knew the answer. “The murdered clown shows up in the last few minutes and chases down all the survivors, right?”

“Ding ding ding!” The clown said. He then made a large sweeping motion with his hand, then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a bell, and ringed it three times. It was quite unnecessary. “He’s usually so good at his job too! But you ruined my doll.” And the clown grinned wide, yellowed teeth fitting against each other in crooked ways. “At least you left me a new one.”

Iliya shivered. That answered what would happen to Roman and his body. “There must be a way to beat it naturally though in the challenge, right?” Iliya pressed on. “He stopped when I lied about knowing his murder. Can you… Can finding out all the information help him rest easy?” If all the challengers had worked together to find all the items like the newspaper Iliya had found in storage, could Roman had lived?

“I must say, I’m very impressed with you two!” The clown Moderator cheered. “Most challengers don’t learn their lesson until it’s too late, and the punishment’s begun!”

Iliya hummed, thoughtful. “Don’t learn, huh? So these challenges are meant to teach us something?”

“That’s right,” the clown agreed. “This challenge teaches you not to just sit on your asses and expect to win! If this were a main game, well…” The clown dissolved into high pitched giggles.

“So what does he get?” Wolf asked, interrupting the clown. Both the clown and Iliya looked surprised- even Peaches looked up from where she had been grooming herself on the floor. No one had expected Wolf to speak up, much less for Iliya.

“My prize, for guessing right,” Iliya reminded the clown Moderator.

“That’s right that’s right that’s right!” The clown laughed. “I didn’t forget you silly kids. So spoiled though, asking for your treat,” it scolded.

“Apologies,” Iliya said dryly.

Again, the clown Moderator laughed. Then it snapped its fingers. It closed its palm and then, like magic, when it opened there was a ticket inside. “This challenge is special, in more ways than one! Right here is a treat only given to the best of the best of challengers. Be thankful that I considered you two!”

The clown gave the ticket to Iliya. It looked like an old fashioned admissions ticket, and there was a stylized circus ticket drawn on. The ticket read: Admit one and party to the Night Circus!

“What’s this?” Iliya held out the ticket so Wolf could see. He didn’t seem to want to touch it.

The clown stared at Iliya with eyes growing ever darker.“A ticket to the circus, of course! I run another game, too. And that one isn’t for newbies.” The clown’s voice dropped low. “That game is much more fun.”

Iliya did not want to have that ticket. “Is it mandatory that I play?” He asked, vaguely terrified.

The clown shook its head vigorously, which for some reason made something he was wearing honk. Maybe it was the bulbous red nose. “If you really don’t want to come play with me, you can probably sell it for the big bucks on the player market. But I’d really love to see you again, Red.”

Iliya did not know what the player’s market was, but he resolved to sell the ticket first thing once he found out if it was possible. And dear god did he hope it was possible.