Qi Si remembered that once, long ago, he'd had a real friend.
It was eleven years ago. A silly, simple kid happened to be his deskmate, and just like him, had no friends. It was only natural that they drifted together, sharing snacks, telling jokes, and laughing their days away.
Qi Si was only eleven back then. He was already far from normal, but at least he hadn't committed any actual crimes.
He had a habit of sitting quietly in a corner, poring over gruesome, forbidden books. He would imagine the characters' horrific suffering until a flush of color crept into his pale cheeks and his breath came in ragged bursts.
His "friend" couldn't comprehend his tastes, yet he would still sit beside him, forcing himself to read along with a mixture of effort and alarm, trying to understand what brought Qi Si such excitement and joy.
"Qi Si, why are you always reading this stuff?" his "friend" asked him once.
"I'm choosing how I want to die," Qi Si replied.
He was holding a book that explored the relationship between lust and appetite, and he didn't even look up. "I've always been curious about how I'll die, and where I'll go afterward."
His "friend" was taken aback. "You're only eleven. Why are you thinking about stuff like that?"
"Because I'm bored," Qi Si said. "This world is like it's all been scripted. Everyone and everything follows a fixed pattern. Joy, anger, sorrow—it can all be precisely measured. But I... I have nothing."
"Then how do you know the afterlife won't be boring?"
"I don't. But it's like a mystery box—at least there's a chance it might be interesting."
His "friend" stared blankly for a long moment before suddenly launching into a string of terrible, nonsensical jokes.
Qi Si knew his "friend" was trying to cheer him up. By all conventional logic, he should have played along, humored him.
So he closed his book, listened quietly to the string of awful jokes, and forced an exaggerated, false smile. Then, he responded with a few even more terrible jokes of his own.
Back then, he never told his "friend" that the thought of killing someone had crossed his mind more than once.
In the hazy, indistinct memories of his childhood, a voice always whispered from the depths of his mind. It tempted him, telling him that the emotions he lacked could be sparked by the thrill of killing, that his pale memories could be stained crimson with the blood of the dead, that a ravenous beast should dwell in the wasteland of his heart...
But he would tell that voice that his "friend" was such a conformist; if he ever found out Qi Si was a murderer, he'd probably never stop nagging him about it.
If things had gone on like that, Qi Si might have tried to disguise himself as a normal person, gradually growing accustomed to a life of false mediocrity, letting the dark desires in his heart fade with time.
But the good times didn't last. One day, a group of bored kids noticed his strangeness and, as was only logical, decided to play a game of "slay the monster."
"Qi Si is evil. We have to take him down," the children declared.
After they threatened to beat up anyone who played with Qi Si, his one and only "friend" grew scared. Every time he saw Qi Si, he kept his distance, as if avoiding the plague or a wild animal.
Eventually, urged on by the other kids, his "friend" even started spitting at him and throwing clumps of mud.
The day his "friend" deliberately tore up one of his books again, a sliver of genuine human emotion was finally woven into the empty palace of his heart.
Sadness, pain, maybe even anger—whatever it was, it was an intensely negative feeling, one that undeniably formed his very first understanding of emotion.
To stop his "friend" from looking at him with such hatred, he had no choice but to make sure those eyes closed forever.
He'd always been a resourceful child. Killing someone his own age wasn't difficult, but the trouble that came after was genuinely sickening.
His parents were still alive back then, so he certainly couldn't bring the body home. But leaving it outside meant it would rot and stink, risking discovery by the police.
He saw no other way. He had to eat his foolish "friend," bite by bite. He ate cleanly, leaving nothing behind, until he was completely full.
—He didn't taste good at all. He never wanted to do it again.
...
His mind drifted into the gray, dusty corners of his memory, stirring up clouds of haze.
Qi Si pressed his lips together, his eyes scanning the faces around the table, confirming his earlier suspicions.
The details he'd given perfectly matched the victim's cause of death, yet no one had accused him. There was only one possible explanation: each player had seen a different corpse.
Qi Si turned to Charlie and asked politely, "May we take a brief intermission to discuss the details of the body?"
"Of course!" Charlie's cheerful laugh came out muffled from behind his mask. "It seems Mr. Number One has already discovered my little plot twist! Excellent! How very dramatic!"
At his words, the other players forgot all about Qi Si's gruesome confession.
The hint was impossible to miss.
Dong Xiwen murmured, "The body I saw was a young man. He had multiple fractures, and his brains were splattered all over his face."
"That's not right. That's not what I saw," He Hui said, her face pale. "The one I saw was an obese man..."
Qi Si smiled, propping his chin on his hand and tapping his jaw idly. "Do you remember the earlier clue? 'We are all guilty.' It's possible there isn't just one murderer."
"I get it. We're all murderers, and the body we saw was the first person we ever killed." A vicious sneer spread across Hansen's face. "You all put on a damn good act. If Zhou Ke hadn't pointed this out, were you planning to vote me out as the killer and send me to my death?"
No one admitted or denied it. The answer was clear enough and needed no further debate.
Charlie had said the truth didn't matter; they just had to vote someone out. Even if they chose wrong and faced indirect consequences, it was better than being voted out and executed themselves. "We could all just abstain, right? It never said we *have* to vote," Dong Xiwen muttered under his breath.
Charlie overheard and added with a chuckle, "If there's a tie, then all of you will be executed! I've designed a uniquely artistic death for every one of you. You're all guilty, after all. You all deserve to give it a try!"
Dong Xiwen's eyes widened. "But we're all murderers! How are we supposed to vote? Do we all vote for ourselves and then commit suicide to atone for our sins?"
No one answered him.
When everyone was a killer, anyone could be the target. The most practical solution, then, was to choose a single scapegoat and have everyone vote them out.
Cynthia mulled it over for a moment, then offered a slight smile. "Since we're all murderers, there's no need to concern ourselves with the truth. I imagine that once Charlie asks his third question, we'll know who to choose."
All eyes turned to Charlie.
Under their collective gaze, the puppet-like NPC began to tremble dramatically before bursting into a fit of insane laughter. "The third question: What are your occupations, and what are your contributions to the world? Perhaps those of value can redeem themselves and avoid death! ...Perhaps!"
Assigning value to a life, deciding who lives and who dies based on that value. It was the same old utilitarianism, dividing people into ranks and classes.
For some reason, Qi Si thought of the two endings in Double Happiness Town—
"The Sacrifice" and "Averting Calamity."
What was the Weird Game's stance on this kind of moral blackmail, sacrificing one to save the many?
Did it approve? Or did it simply watch with cold indifference?
Cynthia clasped her hands and spoke with solemn gravity. "I am the administrator for the Federation's West Silesia district. If you follow current events, you'll know that I've pushed for improvements to the Federation's healthcare system and championed the rights of disadvantaged groups. Six years ago, during that bizarre fire that swept the globe, I was on the front lines, aiding in the rescue efforts."
"If I can leave this instance alive, I will continue to work for the well-being of all humanity, and I will continue to do what I've always done: fighting for the rights of women, so that every girl can grow up safe, happy, equal, and secure."
Qi Si understood. Cynthia's rhetoric was aimed squarely at He Hui, much like his own earlier gesture of goodwill toward Dong Xiwen.
A vote that determined life and death would never satisfy everyone. You only needed to win over a few.
"I don't believe a damn word you politicians say! Anyone who gets to a position like that has dirt on their hands." Hansen cut Cynthia off with a sneer. "I'm a loan shark, just like you probably guessed. I've killed, I've burned things down—I haven't done much good in my life."
"I'm not gonna feed you some crap about how I'll stop being a loan shark. You wouldn't believe me anyway. But I can promise you this: if I get out of this instance, I'll destroy all the IOUs I'm holding. I'll let those deadbeats off the hook. And you all know which promise is more likely to be kept—mine, or that old hag's empty one."
With that, Hansen crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and fixed them with a look that said, *You figure it out.*
After those two speeches, the order for answering had already fallen apart.
Dong Xiwen decided to just go third. "I hope I can live, because there are still things I want to do. But if I have to die here, then so be it. Someone has to be the sacrifice. I just don't think any crime should be judged at this table, in such an absurd fashion."
"As for Charlie's question, I don't know how to answer. I don't have a job yet, and I haven't made any contributions. But I'll do my best to be a good and decent person. If I ever have the power to change the old order, I can promise that, as far as my abilities allow, I won't let anyone oppress others ever again."
"That probably sounds too idealistic, full of empty platitudes, but I hope you can believe me. Maybe if everyone was just a little more idealistic, the world could actually change..."
His words came to an abrupt halt as Qi Si suddenly turned to He Hui and said listlessly, "I believe Dong Xiwen isn't the only one among us without a job."
He Hui gave a slight nod. "That's right, I'm still in high school. But I can promise I'll never do anything bad again. I only committed my crime because I had no other choice. If I could have endured it any longer, I would never have chosen to kill..."
Her voice trailed off, growing quieter and quieter until it was nearly inaudible.
Qi Si had cut Dong Xiwen off mainly because he was afraid the kid would keep reciting what sounded like a propaganda script from the Kyushu Guild and drone on forever.
And now, a question suddenly occurred to him. He smiled, his gaze sweeping over the others. "In your opinion, how exactly should a person's value be defined? Sin and worth can't be quantified into numbers. You can't just add and subtract them. So how do you judge whether someone deserves to die?"
Seeing the players lost in thought, he continued in a measured tone, "And talking about one's contribution to the world is even more nebulous. This world isn't just made up of humans; there are also animals, plants, microorganisms, and inanimate objects. From the perspective of nature as a whole, the growth and prosperity of the human race could be seen as a devastating catastrophe for every other living thing..."
"Are you an animal rights activist? Or an environmentalist?" Cynthia asked calmly.
"No. I'm just curious from what perspective this so-called 'contribution' should be judged." Qi Si shot a sidelong glance at Charlie, his expression serene. "To an NPC, or any other supernatural being, humanity's greatest contribution might be its own self-destruction. To the average citizen, the greatest contribution another person can make is solving their basic needs—food, shelter, and so on. To a politician with a long-term vision, developing technology and exploring the future is what matters most..."
"What the hell are you getting at?" Hansen said impatiently. "We're all human here. You're not actually trying to look at this from the perspective of some monster, are you?"
Qi Si looked at him, his eyes narrowing into a smile. "I just think it's meaningless to consider contributions outside the context of this instance. Who can control what any of you do once you return to the real world? Hansen, if you die in this instance, collecting on those loans you've made will probably become quite a headache, won't it?"
Hansen snorted. "Even if I die, as long as those IOUs exist, someone will collect the debt."
Qi Si ignored him and continued, "I'm a taxidermist. The contribution I can make is to rationally analyze our situation and not endanger the group's interests through stupidity or cowardice."
"I'll be voting for Hansen. He's the only one among us who excels at physical force, and based on his answers to the first two questions, he hasn't demonstrated a particularly high level of intelligence. It's possible that later on, he might try to use violence to coerce us into doing something foolish along with him. I believe it's necessary to eliminate such an unstable element early on."
As he said this, Qi Si suddenly thought of Chang Xu, and his answer to "blow up the trolley."
All these "isms" were nothing but pseudo-philosophies, easily shattered by absolute power.
But it wasn't hard to make those debates matter, to let them dictate the situation. All you had to do was use the rules to eliminate the one with absolute power.
Qi Si tapped his index finger on the tabletop and said in a jesting tone, "Throw the muscle-bound idiot out the door, and then we 'civilized people' can sit down for a quiet little chat, can't we?"
..................
[Note: *The Decameron* is a collection of novellas by the Italian author Giovanni Boccaccio. The book is structured as a frame story containing 100 tales told by a group of seven young women and three young men sheltering in a secluded villa just outside Florence to escape the Black Death. The work reflects humanist ideals, focusing on and celebrating human value.]