Rebecca drags her feet through the hallways of the house as she carries herself around places. She misses breakfast but at lunch she doesn't even touch her soup. The spoon is too heavy. The soup, too greasy.

  She sits with her back at the other contestants, her long dark hair falling down the sides, hiding her face. When most are gone, she gets up and leaves for her room. She could’ve gone training but what's the point? She can't find a reason to do that, or anything.

  Her power of will probably left with Lena, or died with Reese's love.

  In the evening, the thirty remaining contestants gather in the common room, but the place feels empty. Rebecca sits in the back right corner. It's not the most comfortable chair, but at least she can rest her head against the wall.

  Reese sits in the front row. Every time she’s run into him, he’s been glued to his phone, but now his full attention is on the screen. He sits between Contestant 14, who is practically sprawled across his chair, eyes turned up as if bored with the situation, and Contestant 45.

  Rebecca has always known that Reese and Contestant 14 get along—at least, the last thing he told her about him was that his rap was getting better. But this is the first time she’s seen him interact with Contestant 45. And damn, she doesn’t like it.

  Contestant 45’s legs are curled up on the chair. She is slightly turned toward Reese and shoots glances at him every once in a while. Reese doesn’t pay attention to either of them. He just waits for the screen to come on.

  One seat behind them, Contestant 6 watches their every move—shoulders hunched, mumbling to himself, twitching as his gaze bounces from one to the other. Almost like Rebecca.

  “Oh, God. No.”

  She centers her focus on the screen. The image of the hosts pops up on the wall. Her stomach tightens.

  The male host’s voice blasts overhead, unusually solemn. "Tonight, there will be no battle."

  A pause. Then, the female host picks up. "Instead, we honor the memory of Contestant 30—Lena, was her name."

  A video begins to play. It starts with clips of her past life. Lena at a party, laughing too loud. Lena with her family, squinting at the sun, mid-smile. Then, Live. Her best moments on the show. A clip of her rolling her eyes at something dumb the hosts said. A shot of her in the dining hall, mocking the nutrient paste with an exaggerated gag. Her most-watched post—some stupid inside joke that made the comment section explode. The hosts chuckle.

  Rebecca feels sick.

  This isn’t honoring anything. It’s a highlight reel. A final piece of content. Something to keep the audience entertained.

  Her hands curl into fists. Lena is gone. This isn’t for her. It never intended to be.

  “But hey!” the male host adds. “Why don’t we ask our contestants to share some anecdotes about Lena? Don’t you think she would’ve loved it?”

  “She sure enjoyed sharing her opinions about others with us,” says the female host, with a coma-inducing sweetness in her voice.

  The cameras broadcast the common room and all of them trapped inside it. That’s it. Rebecca can’t do this. She stands and walks out. Eyes on the door. Her stomach churning, her pulse hammering. She doesn’t know where she’s going, as long as it’s away.

  She ends up in the training facility. She doesn’t know if she came here on instinct or just because it was the only place left. The room is quiet—so quiet she still hears the voices of the hosts at times, slipping through the doors of the common room.

  “Shut up, for once in your life,” Rebecca mumbles to herself.

  Immediately, she pulls out her phone, scrolls through the playlists, and presses play. The first notes of the piano tickle the back of her neck. She lifts her shoulders, lets her head fall back and closes her eyes. Her body starts moving on its own.

  The training booth isn’t large, but it’s enough. Her arms slide open at her sides, her shoulders spread, and she balances on her right foot while her free leg reaches far to the side, traveling across the room in a pas de bourrée. Her half-toe balance is perfect, just like it used to be.

  Her body remembers the steps, but hesitates with every one of them. There’s a fracture between mind and motion—a twitch in her leg, a twist in her stomach. But she pushes through it. She lets the ache rise into her throat and pour out in the form of tears. And then, she surrenders.

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  Yes, it hurts. With every petit saut, pirouette or piqué turn she takes, memories of her life outside creep back. The life she lost. The one they took from her. She still hates them, all of them. God, she would’ve loved to see them burn. She was paying anyway. Unlike Lena, who did nothing to deserve what she got.

  As soon as Lena’s face flashes behind her closed eyes, the pain intensifies. She feels it in her jaws, in her scalp. She wants to rip it off.

  But the music leads her into an écarté, and her body falls perfectly in place. Shoulders flat, diagonal to the body, keeping the same line as her raised leg. She smiles. It’s the movement, the technique, the coordination of her body and the rhythm of the piano that she loves so much. How could anything else matter, when she can dance?

  And when she does, the world outside ceases to exist. It’s just her. The music. The pleasure. The love. And she’s got it back. She lost everything else—her life, her freedom, her only friend, a man who loved her. But she’s got dancing back, and she doesn’t even want to think about a life without it.

  She dances until her muscles scream. Until she feels the tears mixing with sweat. Until her limbs are too heavy to keep going. Out of breath and with her heart hammering in the throat, she finally collapses onto the mat. The playlist keeps running. Rebecca can’t even stretch an arm to reach for her phone and turn it off. Her eyelids close on their own. She just lets exhaustion pull her under. And there, in the quiet of the training facility, she falls asleep—smiling.

  Rebecca wakes up in her bed. Her head feels heavy, her limbs sluggish, like she’s been dragged out of a deep, dreamless sleep. Her fingers grip the soft, warm blanket. She blinks. She’s fully dressed, except for the shoes. But she’s under the covers. Her stomach tightens. She doesn’t remember getting here. The last thing she recalls is the training facility. Dancing until her muscles stopped responding.

  She pushes herself upright. Did someone bring her here? Reese, maybe? There’s no way to know. She rubs a hand down her face, exhales, and forces herself out of bed.

  The dining hall is louder than normal when she steps inside. At the center of it all is Reese. Standing at the far end, on top of a table, addressing the group.

  Rebecca pauses and watches. He speaks with a smooth, confident voice and smiles like nothing happened.

  “We can’t just keep doing the same dead shit. Gotta mix it up, yeah?” Some of the contestants nod, others shoot him wary glances. Reese lets the murmuring die down before continuing. “And this works for me, too, because I’ve been wanting to do it for a while now.” He makes a small pause. Just enough to build anticipation. “It’ll go great with this song I released a couple of days ago.” He scans the room, his eyes shining with pride. “I want something groundbreaking. Unique. A piece of art. And I want all of you in it.”

  The reaction is instant. The contestants begin exchanging opinions and concerns, but none of them leave. They’re already sold.

  “I’m not going to lie, it does sound like fun," says Contestant 24, taking several of the contestants by surprise, including Reese. Of course, he hides it quickly.

  “I know, right?” Reese says, flashing a smirk. “A lot of fun.”

  “Yeah.” Contestant 24 nods. “But what do we get? I mean, I can have fun on my own terms.”

  Reese chuckles. “My man, you’re absolutely free to do what you want.” His tone is light and casual. “I’m not telling you what to do, alright? I’m inviting you.”

  He makes it sound like a choice. Like a privilege, even. But there’s something in the way he keeps monitoring the room that tells Rebecca this is more important to him that he wants people to know. It’s subtle, probably no one notices but her.

  “When do we do it?” Contestant 38 asks. She looks excited. And her excitement is contagious.

  “Patience, my friend. It’ll be one of these days,” Reese says. “I need a couple of props that some friends are sending me. One of them asked me to promote her product, so we can’t start without it. But as soon as I get them, we’ll do it.”

  More questions follow, but Reese finds perfectly convincing answers for all of them. By the time he gets off the table and the crowd spreads out, the contestants are completely on board with his mysterious project. If Rebecca didn’t know him better, she’d really believe his intention is to make a video for one of his songs and do a little marketing on the side. But that can’t be it. He wouldn’t let Lena’s death slide like it’s just another casualty. He wouldn’t just wake up one day and decide he’s over Rebecca and ready to jump into his next mission.

  Rebecca walks up to him. He doesn’t even notice. He’s lost in thought, smiling triumphantly. He’s got exactly what he wanted.

  "Reese, did you—?"

  "Not now, yeah?" he interrupts, brushing past her. He’s already several steps away when he adds, "I need to upload a video for my fans. You should have breakfast."

  The video drops later that afternoon. Just Reese, talking straight to the camera. Smiling. Like Lena’s death didn’t touch him. Like being apart from Rebecca doesn’t, either.

  "Guys, I’ve got some great news," he says, rubbing his hands in front of his face. "I decided to record a music video here on Live with the remaining contestants. I already have this concept in mind. I don’t want to spoil anything, so I won’t say much. But I’m one hundred percent sure you’re gonna love it.” He grins, but his eyes tell a different story. “Even if some of us never make it out, this will make sure we live forever. Every single one of us—a legend."

  Then, his face sombers—just slightly.

  "The other thing I wanted to talk about… something you’ve been asking a lot." Rebecca’s stomach tightens. She already knows. "It’s about Rebecca." He exhales, shaking his head like it’s funny. "Guys, I’m fine. Water under the bridge. I thought I felt something for her, but—" A small laugh. "Now I realize it wasn’t what I thought. Maybe being trapped in here, with so few options, if you know what I mean, made me overreact a little. Made things feel bigger than they actually were." He leans back, relaxed. "But I’m fine. She’s fine. We’re both extremely sad about Lena; she was a good kid. But other than that, we’re good."

  The video ends. Rebecca stares at the black screen, even after it’s over, even after there’s nothing left to see. Then Reese’s words come back to her—the last thing he told her right before Lena’s fight: "Just remember what I’ve been asking you all this time. What I asked you on the rooftop. You will have to do that."