After a round of brief introductions, the players now knew what to call one another.
The elderly Cynthia offered a kindly smile. "Let's each state the number of puzzle dungeons we've cleared and describe our approach to solving them. If we face a puzzle that requires a group effort, I can assign tasks based on everyone's experience to ensure the most logical division of labor."
"And why should we listen to you?" Hansen stared at her, his voice cold. "This isn't a team dungeon. For all we know, we'll be forced to kill each other later. You think we're fools, sharing information here?"
He boomed, his expression menacing, causing He Hui, who was beside him, to flinch.
Cynthia's smile, however, didn't waver. "I have no intention of deceiving anyone. But this is a 'multiplayer' dungeon, not a 'competitive' one, which implies that cooperation is possible. I'm a humanist. Whatever the circumstances, my first thought is always to find a way for the greatest number of people to survive."
Qi Si offered a faint, unreadable smile. "The opening prompt said, 'We are all guilty.' In a scenario where everyone's a villain, playing the part of a saint isn't exactly a wise move."
Cynthia shook her head. "The initial prompts are always vague. Speculating wildly without sufficient clues will only lead to internal conflict."
"That may be true, but it's not a gamble I'm willing to take." Qi Si repurposed a line from Shang Qingbei in the last dungeon, retorting with a smile, "When survival is on the line, there's no room for error. So, on what grounds are you asking us to let our guard down?"
Dong Xiwen had been lying low, listening to the players' tense war of words. He was beginning to grasp the zero-sum nature of this game.
He waited for what felt like an eternity, but no one seemed to be getting to the point. Finally, he couldn't help but speak up. "So, does anyone actually know what our objective is? Survive for a few days, or...?"
"Welcome to the Scarlet Theater!"
A flamboyant greeting rang out from nearby, cutting Dong Xiwen off.
Immediately after, a spotlight flared to life, hitting a wall at the edge of the stage and bathing a dim corner in brilliant light. A tall, slender shadow materialized within the beam, at first just a dark blur, but it quickly solidified into a human form.
Qi Si's smile faded slightly as he turned toward the source of the voice.
The figure was dressed in a black tuxedo, his frame gaunt and unnaturally tall, reminiscent of the legendary Slender Man. He wore a plain white mask, featureless save for two black holes cut out for the eyes, which seemed to fix the players with an eerie, hollow stare.
Based on past experience, it was safe to assume that this belated arrival in black was an important NPC for this dungeon.
Leaning on a cane, the man in black walked stiffly to the table, spread his arms wide, and declared with theatrical enthusiasm, "Ladies and gentlemen! I am your friend, Charlie, the puppeteer and playwright. Welcome to my final performance!"
"I wish to explore a new form of art, one in which all who love art may participate. You are the audience, but you will also be the actors."
"The performance has already begun. Let the revelry commence! Let us orchestrate this grand symphony of the absurd!"
His intonation was a bizarre, meandering thing, every note grating on the ears. It sounded as if a sound engineer had been murdered, and his head had rolled across the mixing board on the way down.
Qi Si glanced up at the conical roof above the stage, a flicker of dark humor in his thoughts. If everyone was to participate in the performance, he mused, the most hands-on way would be to be turned into puppets.
Dong Xiwen had clearly arrived at the same conclusion. He fired off a series of three questions: "So how exactly are we supposed to perform? Is there a script? What about personal injury insurance?"
Charlie turned his back to the players and took a deep bow, his torso bending so far that it nearly touched his knees, as if performing some bizarre ritual.
The next second, a shadow swept overhead. Qi Si caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision and felt a rush of air behind his ear.
The stench of blood hit them, and a dark shape descended from above. It was suspended by wires in the center of the group, swinging gently from the momentum.
It was a mangled, bloody human figure.
The body was small, that of a child no older than eleven or twelve. Its exposed arms and legs were mottled with scale-like wounds, as if the flesh had been gouged out piece by piece with a small spoon. In many places, the wounds were deep enough to expose bone, from which gelatinous fascia and blood still oozed.
A dusty corner of his memory was stirred. Qi Si's gaze traveled up the blood-streaked corpse, and just as he expected, he saw a face. It was familiar. Memorable, even.
Just as many assassins never forget their first contract, he would never forget this face, or the story behind it.
This was the first person he had ever killed. To ensure he could strike the vital points with speed, precision, and ruthlessness, he had even practiced on a neighbor's dog beforehand...
"So the Weird Game really can read players' memories, can it?" Qi Si narrowed his eyes. He'd never expected to see this person here—a dead man who, had he been reincarnated, would be in elementary school by now—serving as a plot device for the dungeon.
"What the hell! What is this?" Dong Xiwen was the first to cry out.
"I don't know... It's horrible..." He Hui lowered her head, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
Hansen and Cynthia, though relatively calm, looked unsettled. No one would be in a good mood after having a horrifically mutilated corpse dangled in their face.
Qi Si pulled his gaze away from the corpse's face, lowered his eyes, and stared at the tabletop with an innocent expression.
He had a sinking feeling that if the other players figured out he was the murderer, things would end very badly for him.
"*Heh heh...* Just a little warm-up game. I do hope you enjoy it!" Charlie's tone was still brimming with passion. "Someone is dead, and the killer is among you. At the conclusion of this game, you will vote to identify the murderer!"
Cynthia asked, "And what happens after we vote for the murderer? What will be their fate?"
Charlie replied, "I will design a grand exit for them, a death befitting the sins they have committed!"
"Sins?" The veteran players caught the keyword, exchanging glances.
Seeing the conversation stall, Dong Xiwen raised his hand. "And what if we choose the wrong person?"
"Whoever you choose will be executed. The audience doesn't care about the truth! They want thrills! They want blood! They want death!" Charlie let out another bizarre "*heh heh*" sound, his voice trembling with excitement. "No matter what choice you make, you won't have to bear the direct consequences, so don't be shy with your votes! The revelry is all that matters!"
Dong Xiwen squinted. "Not bear the *direct* consequences... so there are *indirect* ones? And what's this nonsense about an audience? You just said *we* were the audience. Frankly, I'd rather be watching some spicy late-night films than seeing someone die. Can I say that?"
He Hui chimed in, "Yes, I'm really scared of blood. As a member of the audience, can I request that you tone down the gore?"
"You are in the minority! As a playwright, I must cater to the majority!" Charlie boomed. "For this game, I have prepared three questions, and each of you must answer truthfully. After hearing everyone's responses, I trust you will all have a candidate in mind. Then, you simply need to write that person's name on a piece of paper. The one with the most votes is the murderer!"
Hearing the word "name," Qi Si raised an eyebrow. "What if we don't know the person's real name?"
Charlie turned his pale, masked face toward him. "Haven't you already told the audience the names of the characters you are playing? The audience doesn't care what you were called before. They care about the character—the character's name!"
The players simultaneously recalled the introductions they'd given at the start. Unquestionably, most of them had used aliases. And from Charlie's subtext, it was clear that those fabricated names would now serve as their official designations in this dungeon.
There would be no room to argue, "You're looking for my stage name, that has nothing to do with the real me." The roles they had claimed would now be inextricably linked to them.
But his phrasing, "told the audience," was strange. Were there other spectators besides them?
Dong Xiwen, ever the blunt one, voiced the question on everyone's mind.
"Of course!" Charlie said with a cheerful laugh. "A play is created for an audience of thousands! Though you cannot see them, they are all here!"
A chill ran down Dong Xiwen's spine, the feeling of countless unseen eyes watching him from the shadows.
He quickly scanned the room left and right but saw nothing suspicious. The entire space was a massive stage, every corner filled by the glare of spotlights.
Charlie seemed oblivious to his discomfort, practically vibrating with a madman's excitement. "You needn't worry! One day, I will make the whole world see this performance! Art is an explosion! They will love it!"
Qi Si smiled. "That does sound interesting. I despise being a performing monkey, but if the stage is the entire world, that's another matter entirely. So, are you ready to tell us what your questions are?"
"You like my vision? Wonderful!" Charlie exclaimed, overjoyed. "I'm sure you're all eager to begin, so I won't waste any more time. First question: How old were you when you first killed someone?"
Qi Si instantly felt the dungeon's profound malice.
The corpse's age was easy to guess. If he answered truthfully, the other players would inevitably draw a connection.
But if he played word games or tried to be evasive, it would be an obvious sign of guilt in their eyes.
Had the Weird Game really decided to stop pretending and target him so blatantly?
Qi Si asked impassively, "Who starts?"
Charlie remained silent, leaving the players to sort out the details themselves.
Cynthia smiled. "Let's go in order of our seat numbers. Zhou Ke, you're number one, so you should be first."
"That's not fair," Qi Si countered, shaking his head. "If we answer every question in the same order, those who go later will have time to fabricate lies based on others' answers."
Dong Xiwen frowned. "Didn't Charlie say we have to answer truthfully? Who would risk their life by lying?"
Qi Si said slowly, "The truth can also be used to deceive."
"Zhou Ke, you're stalling. Are you hiding something?" Hansen bellowed impatiently. "If you don't want to go first, then we'll start with number five."
Qi Si turned to him. "Hansen, you seem very eager to single out a suspect and draw everyone's attention. Suggesting we start with number five is likely because you're number two and don't want to be next. What are you afraid of?"
Hansen sneered. "That's a baseless accusation! You were the one who didn't want to go first. You're the one who's desperate to deflect suspicion!"
Qi Si turned his face toward Charlie. "Twelve."
"...Huh?"
The other players were all stunned for a moment before realizing Qi Si was answering Charlie's question: "How old were you when you first killed someone?"
Dong Xiwen's expression was complicated. "Dude, you were so young. Was it an accident or something?"
Qi Si remained noncommittal, turning to Hansen with a smile. "Alright, I've answered the first question. Your turn."
Hansen shot him a warning glare and grumbled, "Nineteen."
With two players having set the precedent, the remaining three quickly followed suit.
He Hui: "Fourteen."
Dong Xiwen: "Huh? You too...?"
Cynthia: "I don't know if it counts, but if you mean the first time someone died because of me, then it was forty-six years ago. I was thirty-two."
Dong Xiwen: "Wait, you're over seventy?"
Seeing all eyes on him, he rubbed his nose in embarrassment. "Oh, right. I was twenty. That was two years ago. The bastard deserved to die. I don't regret it."
After everyone had answered the first question, Qi Si, with nothing better to do, picked up his pen and jotted down the information each person had given.
He noted that, aside from his initial clash with Hansen, no one seemed to suspect anyone else based on their answers.
He figured it out: if the first question was enough to reveal the murderer, Charlie wouldn't have needed to prepare three questions.
As a playwright, he would surely know the principle: a gun that appears in the first act must be fired by the third.
Since he said there were three questions, the players' choice of a suspect would only become clear after all three had been answered.
"None of you lied on the first question. While that lacks a certain dramatic flair, it does allow the plot to progress more smoothly toward its climax."
Charlie's cryptic commentary ended as he raised his voice: "Second question: How did you kill them, and how did you dispose of the body?"