Qi Si was, without a doubt, preparing for the vote.
This was a complete departure from the confines of Charlie's question-and-answer game, but it opened up a new avenue of thought for the players—
The person voted out didn't have to be the one who most deserved to die. It could also be the one the players were most afraid to face...
Hansen clenched his fists. He tried to rise from his seat, but an unseen force pressed him back down.
Forced to remain seated, he glared at Qi Si and roared, "If the most threatening person is the one who should die, then it ought to be you! You're a goddamn psychopath, spouting all this high-minded bullshit. It's obvious you're the most dangerous one here!"
He turned to the other players, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I swear, I won't use force on any of you. I want to live, just like you. I know I'm not the brains of the operation, so it's not worth it for me to start a fight just for the hell of it!"
"Let's all vote for Zhou Ke," he pleaded. "He's obviously a master at these word games. If this comes down to the minimum death count, he's guaranteed to be the last one standing! If he makes it, the rest of you won't!"
Qi Si responded calmly, "I have no quarrel with anyone here but you. And it's precisely because I'm skilled at these games of language that I might be able to work with the others, unravel the rules of this place, and ensure more of us survive."
He paused, his tone shifting. "And it's perfectly clear that you despise Ms. Cynthia for repeatedly accusing you. If the opportunity arose, could you honestly put your personal grudge aside and not make a move against her?"
Cynthia's expression hardened, but she said nothing.
Though Qi Si had also challenged her statements, his later assertion that "everyone is a murderer" neatly explained away his earlier skepticism. It wasn't a personal attack, merely a way to gather more clues.
Hansen, on the other hand, was different. His speech was laced with profanity, and every word dripped with a palpable loathing for politicians like her...
Hansen was speechless. It was the truth, and no amount of denial would make anyone believe him.
He had no choice but to turn to Charlie. "We can't use force in this theater, right? I just tried to get up and punch someone, and I was completely paralyzed. What does it matter how strong I am? This is a puzzle game! My brain gives me zero advantage here!"
He was willing to debase himself just to shift the focus away.
Charlie announced with relish, "In this round, you are indeed forbidden from attacking one another. However, I have prepared many other amusing games for you! I can give you a little spoiler: there will be a thrilling battle royale later on, guaranteed to be rich with conflict and drama!"
A battle royale, by its very nature, would be a contest of physical strength and combat skill. Of everyone present, only Hansen excelled in that arena.
The players might not be adept at ensuring their own survival, but they were more than happy to eliminate the one most likely to seize a spot. Hansen was as good as dead.
Qi Si chuckled, fanning the flames. "You see? Once this round is over, Hansen is strong enough to take us all down. He could clear the stage just by hitting the minimum death count."
It wasn't a heavy weight to add to the scales, but it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
A cold sweat broke out on Hansen's palms. He was stretched to his breaking point, but his mind, paradoxically, began to race with unprecedented clarity.
He turned to Dong Xiwen, his voice urgent. "Kid, vote with me against that old hag! She's Federation, and all those bureaucrats are cut from the same cloth! I can see you hate the people in charge. I've got connections in the real world. Once we're out of this dungeon, I can help you get your revenge!"
If he could just persuade one person... as long as he could get the players to consolidate their votes on someone else, he would be saved.
Caught off guard, Dong Xiwen hesitated.
It was true he despised the Federation—he'd even joined an anti-government cult in the real world—but for the most part, that hatred was an abstract thing. It only became real and sharp when he thought of the people who had killed his brother.
Looking at Cynthia, a seemingly kind old woman, he found it impossible to muster any hatred. Hansen, on the other hand, was undeniably a monster who had murdered his own parents.
No, it wasn't just Hansen. "Zhou Ke" was a depraved monster, too. He'd committed such a brutal murder at a tender age and now seemed to take pleasure in the act...
Cynthia wasn't innocent, either. He'd heard whispers on the dark web about what happened forty-six years ago. Not all the casualties were terrorists who got what they deserved. Many were civilians... students...
As far as Dong Xiwen was concerned, besides himself and He Hui, the other three were barely human. What had he ever done to end up at a table with monsters like these?
"I'll be voting for Hansen," Cynthia declared.
Since Hansen had made his animosity toward her perfectly clear, she saw no reason to keep up her benevolent facade.
She looked at He Hui and said, "Even setting aside what might happen in this dungeon over the next few days, I would still vote for Hansen. Of the five of us, he is the only one who killed without grievance or provocation. He murdered his own parents. His sin is the deepest. He deserves to die."
Hansen retorted furiously, "Old hag, I haven't killed any more people than you have with a single one of your policies!"
As the stalemate stretched, Charlie's voice boomed, "Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you've deliberated enough. Now, please write your choice on the paper! I've designed so many amusing ways to die, and I'm simply waiting on your votes to see which one we'll use!"
He was practically vibrating with excitement, clearly impatient to see a player executed.
Not daring to delay, the players all picked up their pens.
Cynthia remained composed, though the slight tremor in her right hand betrayed her inner turmoil. Hansen, meanwhile, shot agitated glances at everyone, a desperate, unrealistic hope flickering in his eyes.
Both Dong Xiwen and He Hui kept their heads bowed, hesitating to write a name and sentence another player to death.
Finally, everyone reached a decision. The silence was broken only by the soft scratch of pens on paper.
Qi Si deliberately wrote down the name "He Hui." He was confident that the girl was so unremarkable no one would vote for her.
If Hansen had managed to persuade Dong Xiwen, the vote would be tied two-to-two between him and Cynthia. Then both threats could be eliminated together.
After everyone had put down their pens, wisps of black smoke curled up from above their heads, solidifying into Arabic numerals.
A "2" materialized over Hansen's head. A "1" appeared over both Cynthia's and He Hui's. Dong Xiwen's was a "0."
Qi Si glanced up. A "0" hovered above his head as well.
Someone had abstained.
"Two to one to one! The results are in! Congratulations to Mr. Number Two on being selected as this round's killer!" Charlie bellowed, his "congratulations" dripping with malicious glee.
Hansen's face had gone ashen the moment he saw the number materialize above him. Now, hearing Charlie's declaration, he shrieked in despair, "This isn't fair! I haven't killed the most people, and I'm not the most useless! Why me? It's not fair!"
"The world has never been fair," Cynthia said, shaking her head in pity. "I am sorry, but there was no other choice. After we leave this dungeon, I will do everything within my power to resolve any of your lingering concerns."
The subtext of her words was clear: with her resources, she could investigate Hansen's real-world identity and thus warn him not to even think of using his last half-hour for revenge.
Whether Hansen understood her implicit threat or not, he continued to shout futilely, "You all fell for Zhou Ke's bullshit! Watch out, you won't even see your own deaths coming!"
He screamed and thrashed violently, but he was pinned to the chair, unable to move beyond its confines.
The corpse hanging overhead suddenly dissolved into crimson specks of light, showering the players in what felt like a rain of blood. The black smoke and blood-red motes mingled and vanished into the air, as if they had never been, or perhaps, as if they had seeped into the players' very flesh and bone.
All that remained above the round table was an inverted cross wrapped in black cloth, hanging heavy and silent. Its religious symbolism stirred an irrepressible unease in all who saw it.
Charlie adjusted his mask and, with his back to the players, bowed to the empty air. "And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for—the execution! What manner of death awaits Mr. Number Two? Let's wait and see!"
He spoke with the dramatic flair of a game show host, as if addressing an audience of thousands.
An illusion flashed before Qi Si's eyes.
Countless dark shadows swirled around the small table at the center of the stage, nearly blotting out the harsh lights and casting the scene in a sunless gloom.
Scarlet fissures split open on their heads, and blood-red gazes shot forth from within. The moment Charlie bowed, they erupted in fervent, maniacal cheers.
Hansen was still struggling, but now, no sound came out. His mouth hung open, his throat seemingly clutched by a great, invisible hand, allowing him to only force out meaningless, choked gasps.
A crimson thread descended from above, piercing his skull. An instant later, his eyes dissolved into pools of blood that gurgled down his face.
A scream of agony echoed across the stage, nearly shattering the players' eardrums. But the execution continued.
Dozens of pustules sprouted from beneath Hansen's skin like mushrooms after a rain. They bloomed like flowers into massive ulcers, quickly merging into a mottled field of yellow and white that wept thick, viscous pus.
Hansen's flesh, like ice cream melting in the heat, began to writhe and dissolve into a slick liquid, spreading in layers over the high-backed chair. He slumped like a deflated leather balloon, heavy and limp.
Blood and bone fell apart, draping the high-backed chair in a haphazard layer of human skin. From a distance, it looked as if the chair itself had transformed into some grotesque creature.
The terrifying part was that the screaming never stopped. Even as his head lolled lifelessly, separated from his body, even as his organs melted into a blended slurry, Hansen's shrill cries continued to spiral through the theater, like a tormented spirit trapped within its own remains.
Most of the players' faces had turned whiter than paper. Dong Xiwen looked utterly sickened, and He Hui clamped a hand over her mouth, gagging.
The corpse that had dropped from the ceiling was just a cheap jump scare. Aside from the initial, startling shock, it hadn't inspired much real terror.
After all, they had killed that person with their own hands. They had seen how he died. If they weren't afraid of the living man, why would they fear the dead one?
But this was different. Though Hansen's death had been the result of their collective vote, no one had expected it to be so gruesome and agonizing.
The gory scene and his bizarre death were enough to trigger a primal, genetic revulsion, compounded by a chilling fear for their own kind—would they, too, one day die so horribly?
Qi Si stared at the relentlessly screaming chair where Hansen had been, then looked away, his interest already waning.
He looked at Charlie and lifted an eyelid. "Mr. Charlie, that chair is a bit noisy. Could you make it quiet down?"
"Of course!" Charlie nodded emphatically, then snapped his fingers. The blood-and-flesh-coated chair immediately fell silent.
"Thank you." A sincere smile touched Qi Si's lips. "May I ask when this performance will end? Knowing the length of the play might help us better perform our roles."
Charlie turned his masked face to Qi Si and said with a hint of melancholy, "My play has three acts. One act per day. On the third day, it will all be over."
Listening to the conversation between the player and the NPC, the others began to pull themselves out of the shock of Hansen's death.
The main quest had yet to update. Based on the story so far, it was likely related to what Charlie called the "final performance."
Once the play was over, the dungeon would probably end, right?
Three days. That was the time limit for this dungeon. If they could survive for three days, they should be able to clear it, right?
Dong Xiwen asked cautiously, "What counts as a day? I don't think I've seen a clock."
He didn't know if a "day" in this dungeon was the same as a twenty-four-hour day in the real world, but he hoped not.
Barely two hours had passed, and one person was already brutally dead. As a novice who knew nothing, could he really survive for three days, gambling against these barely human monsters at the table?
Charlie smiled. "I won't tire you out too much! One act is one day. This act is almost over—just a small nighttime scene left. You may all return to your rooms and wait for the new game to begin!"
He snapped his fingers again. Six doorways materialized on the previously smooth wall at the edge of the stage. Each door was carved with strange patterns, and from the outside, they were indistinguishable.
"You may freely choose your rooms for the next three days, but once chosen, your decision is final! And here's a little hint for you: there's a vicious ghost hiding in every room."
Charlie pressed a finger to his lips, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Each of you is a sinner. Your sins have taken the form of the world's most terrifying monsters, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike down anyone who passes by."
"You cannot be harmed by your own sins, nor can you be harmed by the sins of the dead. As long as you choose the correct room, you will pass these three days in peace. But if you choose wrong... well, that would be most unfortunate!"
He said "unfortunate," but his tone held no trace of sympathy—only palpable anticipation.
Seeing the players' grim expressions, he chuckled. "Of course, you needn't worry too much. Someone has already died for sin today. The sins have had their fill, so they won't be killing again tonight..."
..................
[Note] Oedipus Rex is a play by the ancient Greek writer Sophocles, based on the Greek myth of Oedipus killing his father and marrying his mother, showcasing the tragic conflict between man and fate.
The update speed has been pretty good recently, right? /smile
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