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The twelfth deck was usually full of characters who have their own sense of the surroundings, so it was rare for any notion to be accepted by most, but there would always come to be notions, a few, that would become popular. Here was one such belief: Facing Bruiser, willingly or not, is an itinerary that would imperil not only the body but also the soul. Another general belief was that beating a retreat in the presence of Bruiser was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Hey, empty hands won’t win you the game. Take some food.” Some audiences suggested Lirzod in a not-so-smooth of a tone. After all, he now was their silver dream—a silvery silhouette that could drag them out of the darkness and bring them at least fleeting comfort. “Handling a cat is kids’ stuff,” Lirzod casually replied while standing in the ring, showing comfort through words, “I don’t need food or even a rat’s tail for that matter.”

Lirzod had stepped out of the cat home and was on his way to the cat ring, where Jehez was arguing with Gonn. A blonde girl was standing behind Gonn, wearing an eel-faced mask that was mostly blue except around the edges. The black staff in her hands resembled an eel, and it kept men from approaching her. Nevertheless, some men asked her to remove her mask, but she didn’t even respond, and her close-set copper eyes just paid attention to the conversation between Jehez and Gonn. “Sir, even if your ticket was stolen, it didn’t happen before my eyes, so there’s nothing I can do about that. Maybe if you go to the Monitor Hall, they might help you by checking the surveillance footage.” Jehez urged Gonn to move aside so he could continue with the tests. “Besides, don’t you think you should be fighting that clown instead of me?”