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Aesop never marked the date.
He never spoke it aloud. Never scribbled it into his case journal. Never muttered it during the hazy lull between matches when survivors gathered near the common room fireplace, trading stories, superstitions, and slivers of themselves. Not him.
In Oletus Manor, birthdays meant nothing. It was just another day full of matches, noise, and other people’s problems. No one bothered to ask about his birthday and he liked it that way.
But someone knew.
Exactly a day before his birthday, something unexpected showed up on his embalming table. A black mask, cracked through one side, tied neatly with a red ribbon. It shimmered a little, like there was gold dust brushed over it, like something pried from deep within a mine.
There was a card, too. Folded and propped underneath.
“For the one who sees beauty in decay.”
Aesop stood still, staring at it for a long second. His chest felt tight for no reason he could explain. Then his eyes narrowed. His table was never touched by anyone. No one just came in here, especially not to leave something this... personal.
He thought of Norton first, naturally. But no, Norton always asked. Always warned him ahead of time, even for the smallest gesture. Always knocked his door first, always looked him in the eye with that half-smile and said, “Is it alright if I give you something?” Aesop didn’t like surprises, and Norton respected that.
Which meant this wasn’t Norton.
He didn’t throw the mask away, though. Instead, he carefully moved it to the far corner of a table he rarely used. Out of sight. He didn’t want to deal with it now. He had other things to do.
He went back to packing his suitcase for the evening match. Everything folded, organized—tools, spare gloves, the usual set of supplies. But he kept glancing at the corner, even if just for a second at a time.
When he was finally ready to go, he stopped at the doorway. Looked back once.
The mask was still there. Waiting.
He turned and left without touching it again. He had a match to get through, and no time for puzzles like this.
“Hey, nice to see you,” someone said as Aesop stepped into the lobby.
He glanced up and caught a glimpse of Naib sitting at the end of the table, his face mostly hidden under the shadow of his hoodie. Beside him, Eli gave a small wave, the one who had called out.
Aesop nodded back but didn’t get the chance to say anything before he noticed Norton.
He was already there, sitting in his usual spot. But something was off.
Norton didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look up when Aesop came over and sat beside him. No greeting, no eye contact, nothing. Just… silence. He stared blankly at the red curtain separating them from the hunter’s side, shoulders stiff and jaw tight.
Aesop frowned slightly. That wasn’t like him. Norton wasn’t the type to ignore people, least of all Aesop.
“It’s been a while since the four of us played together, huh?” Eli spoke up again, turning his smile toward Aesop. It was gentle and warm. Typical Eli. “We should eat together next time. Naib’s been teaching me how to cook a few dishes from his hometown.”
Naib didn’t say anything, but he shifted in his seat, just enough to sit closer to Eli. It was subtle, but obvious enough to make Eli laugh under his breath. Aesop blinked. Had they always been that close? He brushed the thought away. It wasn’t his business.
Still, his eyes slid back to Norton.
The man was quietly polishing one of his magnets, focused on it like it held all the answers in the world. Aesop could tell something was bothering him.
He was about to ask, just a quiet, “Are you alright?” or even a nudge to get his attention, but the screen flashed. The waiting time was over.
Match starting.
Aesop clicked his tongue and adjusted his gloves. He’d have to ask later.
The Hunter turned out to be Fool’s Gold.
Eli was the first to spot him, his voice coming through the comms almost instantly. “It’s Fool’s Gold. He’s on me, top side of the map.”
Aesop looked up from his cipher, he was decoding alone on the far side of Leo’s Memory, nowhere near the others. From what he could tell, Eli had spawned on the opposite end of the map. The other survivors were scattered across; Naib was somewhere in the middle, Norton near Eli’s side.
Naib and Aesop started pinging signals regularly to keep track of each other. Aesop kept his eyes on the health bars. Eli had already been hit once. The first cipher popped was Norton’s, based on where it was located. Good. He was probably heading to help Eli next.
But before Norton could get close enough, he got clipped by the Hunter mid-rescue.
‘Focus on decoding,’ Naib pinged, and Aesop obeyed. He finished his own cipher and headed to pick up the one Naib had left behind. But just as he got close, Fool’s Gold used Teleport straight to him.
Aesop didn’t have time to dodge. He took a hit right away.
‘The Hunter is nearby!’ he managed to signal before bolting inside the factory. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as the ground under his feet trembled. Fool’s Gold was already using his earthquake skill, chunks of debris shattering the floor. It chipped away at Aesop’s health bar. One more of those and he’d be down for sure.
‘Stay put, I’m coming!’ Naib sent, after finally healing Eli and finishing his cipher. Eli followed close, putting an owl on Aesop just in time to block the next hit.
It gave him just enough breathing room to loop the inside of the factory and vault a window. Still, Fool’s Gold was right behind him. Aesop had been kiting him for almost two minutes now. Norton had already finished another cipher, and they were close to finishing the last one.
But something started to feel… off.
Aesop glanced over his shoulder. Fool’s Gold was still chasing him, that stupid—okay, maybe not stupid , but definitely smug—smile stretched across his face. A default expression, maybe.
His axe kept flying, but he wasn’t swinging to hit. He’d thrown his axe off to the side, missing on purpose. Like he wanted the others to think he was still in pursuit. But the truth was, Aesop had been herded.
Backed into a corner at the edge of the map. No ciphers, no pallets. Just Fool’s Gold in front of him, grinning like a maniac.
And he finally said it.
“Happy birthday.”
Aesop froze. The voice… the grin… the familiar shape in the Hunter’s eyes.
He stared as Fool’s Gold let his axe fall to the ground with a soft thunk, leaned forward just slightly, and looked almost fond.
With a sigh, Aesop pulled up the signal wheel and sent, “Don’t rescue me.”
Naib and Eli hesitated. Then both sent “Sorry” back before making their way to the gate.
The last to leave was Norton. He didn’t say anything for a while. Just stood there on the exit path. Then finally, a matching signal: “Sorry.” and he left too.
Back on the corner of the map, Fool’s Gold let out a light laugh and plopped down beside Aesop like they were just old friends sharing a break.
“Don’t worry about him,” he said casually. “He just went on autopilot for today.”
Aesop turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”
Fool’s Gold leaned in, chuckling softly.
“I am Norton.”
Aesop never really understood how identity switching worked. One moment, he’d team up with someone like Norton as a fellow survivor, and in the very next match, he could be up against Norton, except now Norton was the Hunter.
He’d heard the rumors before. That Hunters were just reflections of someone’s deepest desires, brought to the surface. He never gave it much thought. Until now.
Now that he’d met this version of Norton, Fool’s Gold, face to face, Aesop was starting to think those rumors might be true.
The match had ended over an hour ago. Aesop had lasted in the corner with Fool’s Gold for maybe a minute before surrendering. He didn’t even know he could press the surrender button that fast. But who could blame him? Fool’s Gold talked nonstop . About the match. About Aesop’s birthday. About how good he looked when he was annoyed.
And worst of all, Fool’s Gold had the nerve to follow him all the way back to the dorms.
“You can’t come in here,” Aesop stopped just outside the door to the Survivor’s side and warned. “This is a survivor-only zone. Everyone knows the penalty for crossing that line.”
Everyone knew the rule; Hunters and Survivors weren’t allowed to cross into each other’s spaces. There were strict penalties for it. Even Fool’s Gold should’ve known that.
“I still want to talk to you. Like this,” Fool’s Gold said, his voice softer than before.
Aesop stared at him from the top of the steps, unsure what to even say. What was he thinking, showing up here in that form, speaking like this like he wanted Aesop to acknowledge that this was Norton too. A different shape, maybe, but still him.
Even when he was just Norton, there were already so many moments Aesop couldn’t quite read him. But now?
“You can talk to me in the morning,” Aesop replied flatly. “Or in the common room. Like a usual, when you are Norton .”
“I want to celebrate your birthday,” Fool’s Gold said instead.
Aesop sighed. “I don’t celebrate–”
“Even if it’s just the two of us?” Fool’s Gold cut in, his smile twitching crookedly, almost apologetic. “I promise I won’t be a bother.”
It was the same voice. Same tone, same inflection. That softness that Norton sometimes used when he was being more sincere than usual.
Aesop’s fingers curled slightly at his sides. He stared at the marble floor, watching the soft shadows the light cast between them. His chest felt tight, like a too-small suit pulled over his ribs.
“No,” he finally said, and his voice didn’t come out as sharp as he wanted it to. It sounded almost like a breath, quiet and breathless. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Fool’s Gold tilted his head just a little, like he hadn’t heard right. Then smiled.
“Alright,” he murmured. “Then I’ll leave your real gift in your room. You can open it when you’re ready.”
Aesop looked up sharply but there was no one left to answer.
The hallway was empty.
By the time he walked inside the dormitory, most of the survivors already return to their own rooms.
The common room light still bled faintly under the door, and he passed by Eli sitting on the rug with a book in hand. Naib was nodding off beside him, chin dipped onto his chest. Across the room, Norton sat curled up in a chair near the fire, blanket tossed over his shoulders, nursing a chipped mug of something warm. He smiled when he saw Aesop.
“Sleep well,” he said.
His voice was gentle.
Normal .
Like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn’t just greeted him on the battlefield with a grin and said happy birthday with a butcher’s smile. Aesop managed a stiff nod before continuing down the corridor. He didn’t trust himself to say anything back.
The hallway to his room was empty. Silent, except for the soft creak of wood under his boots and the muffled whisper of the wind outside rattling the windows.
His key scraped the lock. He paused with it halfway turned.
He always left his lights on.
He never forgot to leave them on.
But when he opened the door, the room was dark. Entirely dark.
Only the faintest light from the hallway followed him in, casting long shadows over the edges of furniture and the pale white sheets on his bed. He didn’t move immediately. Just stood in the doorway, his breath shallow, trying to tell himself it was nothing. Maybe the bulb had gone out. Maybe he had turned it off and just didn’t remember.
But then his eyes adjusted.
And he saw it.
Sitting on the center of his neatly made bed, as if carefully placed by unseen hands, was another black mask.
Not the one from the embalming room. Not cracked. Not imperfect.
This one was whole.
Flawless. As if freshly lacquered, polished until it gleamed under the faint light, reflecting the shadows like glass. There was no red ribbon this time. Instead, it was tied together with a strip of soft, gray cloth tattered on one edge, unmistakably familiar.
Norton’s scarf.
The one Aesop had mended weeks ago after a bad match. The one Norton had said he’d thrown away, since it was too torn to wear. But here it was.
And beneath it neatly tucked just under the eye holes—was a card.
Not the same handwriting as the first. This one was rough, as if carved instead of written.
“You only fear me because you know I’m yours.”
—N.
Aesop didn’t breathe.
His mouth felt dry, and his heartbeat pushed up into his throat. The air becomes more cold, kissing his skin Like something soft brushing up his spine.
He stepped into the room. Closed the door behind him.
He didn’t turn the light on.
Didn’t move toward the bed.
Didn’t touch the mask.
He just stood there, the dark pressing around him, his breath tight and uneven, caught between denial and understanding. His fingers twitched at his side.
Somewhere far off in the Manor at Hunter’s wing? a dream? a memory? he thought he heard a laugh.
An affectionate and l oving, yet also cold and cruel.
Like someone who’d waited a long, long time.