Alice in Borderland | Transmigration

Chapter 38 - Banda's POV

Weak.

A weak, scared, injured animal that hides behind fickle confidence. Banda wonders why you have your head held high, what warranted your flimsy faith? Why are you not cowering into yourself, mind spiralling with fear?

An old woman yelled at you, accusing you of being a murderer. Banda saw the look in your eyes, those were the eyes of someone who had killed, yet your denial held so true that he was almost convinced.

From the way your body tensed, the lilt of your voice, the hand gestures, all screamed innocence. He applauds your acting.

You were something he was going to enjoy picking apart piece by piece.

He prides himself in being able to read people, to not only understand them inside and out, but to utilise them in ways that mess with their minds. He knows his little pet is the Jack of Hearts, but he enjoys watching others flounder for the answer, desperation seeping –etching– itself into their being.

He enjoys listening to his pet talk as if Banda hasn't already figured him out.

He enjoys seeing the pictures on the screen dim, sick pleasure rolling down his spine.

Not many things surprise him, with a brain like his, he can just about predict everyone's next move. However, he really didn't expect this development.

"Keep an eye on your pet. He's the Jack of Hearts."

The fire in your eyes, the grit of your teeth, the slight tremor in your lips. You weren't lying. How could you know? He had labelled you as a reckless, pathological liar. He would have to add 'unexpectedly intelligent' onto your list of qualities. The only other person he believed would figure out who the Jack was would be the male with bleached hair, and maybe the man in the suit. He hadn't even considered you.

He wanted to dig into you, rip out every secret you have. Judging from the indignation rolling off you in waves, he mused that you were probably telling the truth about not trying to murder the old lady. Shame.

Unexpectedly, you also had him figured out.

You called him a serial killer. Which was indeed true, but how long had you known? Why were you speaking to someone that opposes your ideals in every aspect? He dug into your hero complex and relished in your devastated expression, but he couldn't break you.

He couldn't break you, but it seems the male with bleached hair could.

Your hands shook non-stop, your eyes darted left and right, and you walked as if the burden of the world rested on your shoulders. He caught you gazing helplessly at the count-down multiple times, the lower the number, the more desperate you got.

He pondered walking over and telling you a symbol. Whether he lied or told the truth, it would add to your paranoia and you would be one step closer to death's door.

Somehow, the idea of your head getting blown off wasn't as appealing as he thought it would be.

He watched as you entered a cell, eyes blank, mouth slightly agape, face pale.

An explosion occurred mere moments later, and he wondered if it was you.