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At 3am, when the ceiling above her would appear like a void, ready to claim her once more, she was certain that her waking that day had been a dream. There had been no antidote, and certainly not enough luck to have survived a second killing game.At 6am, the steam coiling round her, followed by a pair of reassuring arms, the body firmly pressed up to her own, they reminded her. Fingers, still timid, dipping low and extracting sighs swallowed by hot water’s roar.Kyouko Kirigiri was alive.Clearly her husband’s luck had rubbed off on her long ago.