Chapter 6: A Selfish Pact
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I clenched my fists, watching as the others whispered among themselves. I couldn't help but frown at this.
They were falling into their old habits—humans, always forming groups, always trying to enforce rules.
Had they learned nothing?
I had spent my last life waiting, burying my own wants under duty, under obligation. Doing what was expected, following the flow.
And what had that gotten me?
Nothing.
I had died without ever truly living.
But not this time.
This time, I wouldn't let myself be chained by others.
A sharp voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"Alright. Let's organize."
The speaker was a blond-haired, blue-eyed youth, already standing like he was in charge.
"We don't know how long we'll be here, but we can't afford chaos. First, we divide the rations. Everyone gets an equal share. No one takes more than their portion."
I felt my jaw tighten.
Equal? What a joke. Why should we be equal?
Why should I be limited again? Why should my survival depend on a bunch of strangers? Some of them might be useless. Some might be dead weight.
Why should I sacrifice for them?
I spoke before I could stop myself.
"And what if I don't agree with that?"
Silence.
The group turned to look at me. The blond boy frowned.
"What do you mean?" he asked, confusion flickering across his face.
I shrugged. "I don't see why I should have to share."
I leaned against one of the stone pillars, arms crossed. "I made it out of the womb by myself. If I want to take extra food for myself, I will. Or do you want to stop me?"
I shot him a glare.
The boy's frown deepened. "That's selfish."
I frowned back. "Yeah. So what?"
A few of the kids shifted uncomfortably. One girl glanced away, as if uninterested in the argument. Another girl crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. A boy grinned slightly, as if enjoying the tension.
It was the dark-skinned youth who spoke next.
"He's not wrong."
The boy had been quiet until now, standing at the edge of the group. His short black hair and dark skin made his expression hard to read, but his sharp, observant eyes were focused entirely on me.
The blond-haired boy turned toward him. "You're taking his side?"
He shrugged. "Survival isn't about fairness. It's about who's smart enough to stay alive. If you limit yourself to what you're 'allowed' to have, you might starve."
I met his gaze.
I understood it instantly.
That youth wasn't some blind idealist. He was a survivor. A predator in waiting.
And unlike the others, he wasn't pretending to be something he wasn't.
The blue-eyed youth exhaled through his nose. "Fine. But if you hoard food, don't expect help when you need it."
I looked at him. "I wasn't expecting any."
---
The blond-haired boy sighed. "Before this turns into a fight, let's at least introduce ourselves. We might not agree on everything, but we're stuck in the same place. We should at least know each other's names."
I stayed quiet, watching the others.
The first to speak was the boy himself. "I'm Leon. Back in my old life, I played soccer. I led my team to a few championships."
That explained the confidence. Leon wasn't just bossy—he was used to people following him.
Next was Tess—a short girl with messy crimson hair and bright green eyes. She stood with her hands on her hips, her expression impatient.
"Tess. I did kickboxing." She grinned. "If we ever get into a fight, I'll win."
I raised an eyebrow. She wasn't big, but she had presence. The type that would pick a fight just to see if she could win it.
Elise was next. Silver hair, sharp violet eyes, unnervingly calm.
"Elise. I used to like reading. That's all."
That was vague. But I could already tell—Elise wasn't one to waste words. She only spoke when necessary.
Then came Ren. Brown hair, lean, a smirk that never fully faded.
"Ren. I used to be a gambler. Not with money—just with life. I liked taking risks."
I wasn't sure what that meant, but the way Ren's eyes gleamed with amusement told me he'd be trouble.
Luka introduced himself reluctantly. Dark brown hair, slightly hunched posture, constantly shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"Luka. I, uh… I was just a student."
He seemed… weak. Nervous. Always second-guessing. I made a mental note of that.
And then there was the dark-skinned youth.
The boy stood with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was even.
"Cyrus. I was a street kid. That's all you need to know."
I nodded slightly. That explained a lot.
Leon turned toward me next. "And you?"
I took my time before answering.
"Nestor"
That was all I gave them.
I saw Leon's frown, saw the expectation for more—but I was just amused.
Let them wonder.
As the group reluctantly moved to divide supplies, I felt someone step beside me.
Cyrus.
The other boy didn't look at me, just kept his eyes on the others. "You meant what you said?"
I smirked. "What, that I don't care about fair shares?"
Cyrus shook his head slightly. "That you're not here to be controlled."
I glanced at him, a slow grin forming on my lips. "Yeah. And I'm guessing you aren't either."
Cyrus finally turned his head, meeting my gaze.
For a moment, nothing was said.
Then Cyrus smirked. "Looks like we understand each other."
For now, that was enough.