Everyone files out of the room. I’m the st in line to leave, but as the Ox lumbers out I instead slip behind a shelf near the door. The heavy mahogany sb sms shut, and I watch the Dragon from a slit between the books. His hands are csped as if in prayer, but he hesitates before closing his eyes.

  “Yuri, I can see you behind the dictionaries,” he sighs.

  Instead of walking closer, I remove the volumes one by one til I can peer at him through the shelf.

  “At that meeting,” I say, “there were two wolves, three vilgers, and one seer. But you never told us who the second wolf actually was, and if your pn’s in good faith, you’ll tell me your partner’s name.”

  “Even though I’m on the wolf team, I’ll take sole responsibility for everyone’s survival. Revealing the second wolf wouldn’t change the pn at all,” the Dragon expins, gesturing.

  “It could.” I narrow my eyes. “There’s another way for there to be four survivors. We kill one wolf, and the remaining wolf kills no one during the night. Then we kill that st wolf in a final execution.

  “So before we follow your pn, why don’t we flip this coin?” I scrounge up some pocket change that I stole from the vending machine’s bottom slot. “If it’s heads, we’ll kill two vilgers; if it’s tails, we’ll kill both the wolves. If you wish for the ‘most’ pyers to survive in the fairest way possible, then this py should be fine by you .”

  The Dragon stares at me, or what he can see of me, which is mostly my two blue eyes. Then he sighs, in another puff of library dust. “You’re calling me a hypocrite, while suggesting a pn you don’t believe in at all. Why even bother to ask if I’ll accept that?”

  I close my hand around the token. “Lily would have flipped this coin, and I would have too, if you’d said yes. The only difference between me and her is that I knew you’d never agree to it in the first pce.”

  I sit down at the opposite end of the study table; the Dragon meanwhile is at farthest edge, where the head of a family might be during suppertime. Of course, we’re all alone: if the Dragon is a patriarch then he’s one whose descendants had long since left him.

  “Have you heard of triage, Snake?” His voice is suddenly serious, but I’m still fidgeting with my pocket change. I reply, slowly.

  “I’ve read about it. In a situation where there’s a lot of sick or injured, it doesn’t make sense to treat people at random, so doctors tag people with different colors to decide who to treat first.”

  The Dragon nods at my answer. “Green: minor injuries, no treatment needed. Yellow: severe injuries, treatment required for survival. Red: needs immediate attention.”

  “They’re like traffic light for medical staff,” I mull in turn. “Green means keep going, ignore the patient. Yellow means caution, slow down and evaluate. Red means stop where you are and treat the patient right away.”

  “Yes. But there’s no bck on a traffic light, is there?”

  “Huh?”

  “Code bck… that’s the st triage tag. That means the patient is severely injured, but has no hope of survival, and it’s best for resources to be directed elsewhere.”

  Resources to be directed elsewhere. What a nice euphemism for leaving someone to die.

  “At least it’s efficient,” I sigh.

  “Is it? What happens if everyone’s Code Red?”

  Hey… I was doing a pretty good job up until now; remembering this kind of trivia isn’t easy— don’t question everything that I say! I gre angrily at the Dragon, but he deflects my stare with the cover of a heavy-looking book.

  “If everyone’s Code Red, then code them Red-Green, Red-Yellow, Red-Red?” I suggest.

  As soon as I start speaking, the Dragon’s already shaking his head. This is a mass casualty event for my ego, even though I know I shouldn’t care so much about the whims of an arrogant wolf.

  “Traditionally, the young are favored over the old, and patients who are physically fit are favored over those with poor lifestyle choices or chronic diseases. At that point, doctors think about how to save the ‘most lifespan’ rather than the ‘most lives.’

  This kind of triage is used most often when it comes to selecting patients on organ donation lists, but it also happens in pandemic situations when emergency rooms are full. Or when a hospital has more wounded than nurses can feasibly treat, which happens more often that you might think

  And for prescribing limited medicine too, like those orange pills in our rooms,… they’re usually granted based on need, I think. From what I’ve read here, those pills are likely a sample of Skyfarm’s test innovation, and they seem to be quite expensive,” the Dragon says. “You could try using an Ambrosia to heal your eye while we’re here, though I still can’t say for sure that’s what they are… it’d be a little risky…

  “But ultimately, there is no formal set of guidelines for when everyone’s Code Red. It’s all up to a doctor’s discretion.”

  “Or in this case, your discretion. Mr. Doctor-In-Training, the wolf in a white coat,” I interrupt. I understand the point to his little diatribe—in this dim, flickering, library light, the Dragon’s pn is clear as day. He had sent his morning invitation to exactly three other pyers, the Ox, the Horse, and the Rabbit.

  Unanimous consent isn’t needed for his sacrifice pn to work. In fact, any four pyers can vote as a bloc and murder the others in order to survive, and it doesn’t matter what the outsiders think—it doesn’t matter what the Rat and I think!

  “Speak pinly. This is just a long-winded way of saying you’ll kill me tonight,” I point out.

  The Dragon licks his lips, as if considering the taste of a lie. When he speaks again, he rattles off a sequence of monotonous words instead.

  “Ox. Physically fit, strong moral code. Main caretaker of a family of six, despite being only sixteen years of age.

  Horse. History of asthma, but currently in top shape. Enthusiastic, tries her best, an honor roll student.

  Rabbit. Worrying narcoleptic behavior. A little zy. But from a wealthy background, and has a high IQ.

  Rat. Excess rynx and lung damage from fire incident. Currently out of school; on disability. Repeated aggressive and antisocial behaviors. He’s been bullying you, right?”

  “Uh—”

  “Snake. History of mental illnesses. Sleeps in te. Offered to die during the first trial. Signs of codependency. Violent, anti-social behavior. Worrying sociopathic tendencies. Oh, but—when it comes to Mafia at least, you’re very smart.” Dragon says after, as if attempting to politely bance a scale.

  “You should also remember that I’m just one wolf. The other wolf will be involved in choosing who to sacrifice too, and my partner pys to win, though she fakes idiocy during the day. But as for myself, I’ll just be doing triage,” the Dragon finishes.

  I‘ve always prided myself on my logic. If nothing else, I know that I’m someone who can look at a game, a pn, or my own life without any optimism.

  And what the Dragon had said makes a cold kind of sense. But even though I understand it… even though it’s purely logic… there’s an emotion welling inside me that bumps underneath my rushing thoughts then finally surges over them—rage.

  “You’re a demon.”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  “You’re a high schooler! You can’t sum up people as simple lists of pros and cons. I’ve already made that mistake. I saw all the negatives in myself, and all the positives in Lily.

  “I understand that I’ll never be talented. I’ll never be rich, famous, a super-athelete, or someone socially well-adjusted or a saint, and I’ll never find someone like Lily again. And because I know how weak my strengths are, and that my future won’t be bright, I’ve always been so sad.

  But even if there’s nothing good for me, even if I can’t make myself happy, my life will be my choice. Rotting away in my home, working a shitty part-time job, banging my head at studies from an “easy” school, these are all things I never wanted in my future even if I know they might be all I can do. But I’ll at least choose what I like best between them. I won’t let you take that choice away from me!”

  Why am I trembling? When did I make this fist? I hate it… I hate that a wolf can make me feel this way. My thoughts are rushing torrent, a pyrocstic va flow, and just like a va flow, its seemingly endless fire eventually just dries up.

  The Dragon just looks bored. He shuts his book, speaking casually.

  “If I choose to remove you, this will be why. You’re very smart, no matter what your self-esteem might tell you, but you’re prone to incredible moments of emotional turbulence. I don’t think you’re insane, but I must strongly recommend a good therapist.”

  My fingers hurt; I’m still clutching the coin from before. Its metal coolness spreads through me and it’s good, this familiar feeling. I was scared of the hot hatred that had fshed through me before.

  If I had talked to the Dragon a few days ago, I might have accepted what he just said. To be honest, he was just giving a clear voice to my own inner thoughts. But even so—

  “I can’t let Lily down.”

  “What’s that? I don’t quite remember that name,” the Dragon says, puzzled. But that voice doesn’t matter to me, not right now.

  I have a date to keep. Whether it’s with an imaginary Lily or a real one that’s waiting hidden for me somewhere, I will keep that promise; I’ll show her more of who “Yuri Hirai” is beyond my love for Mafia. I don’t know quite who ‘Yuri Hirai’ is myself, but I swear I’ll find her soon.

  And I’ll find the words that are needed to persuade everyone, too. I’ll have the Dragon understand that he cannot simply pin and tag me like a butterfly’s corpse, and he will also understand his st mistake—that even if I’m terrible at life, I am still quite good at Mafia.

  My coin slips from my fingers as I leave, and the Dragon stoops over to tidy up my loose change.

  “It’s heads…” he mutters, as I breeze through the library door.