Hugo's face was as dark as a thundercloud, his brows furrowed so tightly that it looked like they might fuse together.
Beads of sweat trickled down his temple as his fingers tightened on the plastic arcade gun. His gaze was cold, intense—laser-focused on the screen in front of him.
His breathing was shallow, his lips pressed into a thin line. To anyone passing by, he looked like a man on a life or death mission.
But in reality, Hugo was staring down the most frustratingly difficult target in the history of arcade games—a tiny, far-off enemy that popped up for just a fraction of a second before disappearing.
The words "THIRD ROUND" flashed across the top of the screen, mocking him. This wasn't just a game anymore. It was personal.
"Come on…" he muttered under his breath, squinting at the screen. He steadied the gun, his entire body trembling from the pressure.
