Qi Si had actually considered a minimum death count mechanic.
In the third round of blackjack, after drawing a "10" and an "Ace," he seriously contemplated whether he should sabotage the other players' hands.
But in the end, he dismissed the idea.
After dreaming of Hansen, he had been wrestling with a strange feeling, one so unsettling that it made him suspect that if he were to screw over all the other players and get them killed, it might make things even more troublesome.
And most importantly, this instance still hadn't revealed a main quest. Yet, all the players subconsciously assumed the main quest was to survive for three days, or to complete three acts of the play.
It wasn't the players' fault for being so credulous; Charlie had said, "Everything will be over on the third day." The statement was highly suggestive, and with the instance being called "The Grand Performance," it was hard not to link the quest to the play.
When Qi Si had asked Charlie, "When does the performance end?", he had done so partly with the intention of misleading the other players. But he never expected the web of confusion he'd spun to last this long.
Under the influence of some force, nearly all the players had pushed the main quest to the back of their minds, prioritizing the script and participating in the game above all else.
One day, one act. Three days, three acts... Through a sleight of hand with concepts and psychological suggestion, the players had gradually blurred the line between the script and the instance, treating them as one and the same.
On the system interface, the space where the main quest should have been was completely blank. Qi Si couldn't help but recall the situation in "The Dialectic Game" and began to wonder: was he caught in some entity's grand scheme?
When he first entered the instance, he made no effort to hide his cold, self-serving nature. In truth, he was sending a signal to Cynthia, an offer of cooperation.
If one person had to die in each act, he hoped to first team up with Cynthia to eliminate the other two. Rationalists might not make good friends, but they colluded with ease.
But then Cynthia chose Room 1 and, as fate would have it, encountered his sin. The hope of cooperation dwindled, forcing him to abandon his original plan, which in turn allowed He Hui and Dong Xiwen to luckily escape.
At the time, Qi Si had thought it was all a reasonable coincidence. Cynthia, believing her own sin to be the greatest, had mistakenly chosen the room where his sin resided.
But was it really a coincidence?
He Hui's sin was in Room 3, and Charlie's was in Room 6, which basically proved that the distribution of sins wasn't strictly determined by their magnitude.
All the rooms were like blind boxes; until the very second the door was opened, the sin inside was uncertain...
"Another pseudo-randomness trap," Qi Si chuckled silently in his mind.
He suddenly recalled a line from a fragment of the script—
[The king only wants the people to know what they ought to know.]
This sentence applied just as well to this play—
[The playwright only wants the characters to know what they ought to know.]
Everything the characters saw and heard was the playwright's expression and design. How could any of it be trusted completely?
After all, the apparent playwright, Charlie, was a puppet who was already dead. The true playwright, the one who actually wrote this drama, had never appeared at all.
Qi Si's focus had already transcended the game with the other players; his gaze was now fixed on the contest with the playwright.
Before that, however, he needed to disrupt the other's script, gain the trust of the players as much as possible, and reduce the resistance he would face in this contest.
Based on this, dying once in front of Dong Xiwen was a perfectly acceptable price to pay.
A wager that most people wouldn't dare to make was more likely to yield significant returns. Even if he lost the bet, it would only mean dying once.
Besides, he had died more than once; he was already getting used to it.
In Room 6, Qi Si watched helplessly as his body flattened, its white color gradually breaking apart into the three primary colors.
He was dissolving, dispersing. The pain wasn't sharp; it was more a sense of groundless nihility, with nothing to hold onto.
It was as if his soul had left his body in an instant, flying beyond the boundless universe, only to grow thin at the furthest point, his consciousness and thoughts dissolving into a flocculent ocean.
His vision slowly fell into darkness. For a moment, he saw a bright red page appear against a jet-black background. It turned slowly, revealing gilt-stamped words—
[End of Act Two]
...
In Room 1, Cynthia fought to stay awake, but the bone-deep exhaustion eventually overcame her, and she lost consciousness.
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself trapped in a sea of flesh and blood. Amidst the mountains of corpses, massive tumors of flesh rolled, covered in mouths smeared with lipstick.
[Monster Name: The Orator]
[Corresponding Player: Cynthia]
[Description: A giant tumor of flesh formed from countless corpses. Every mouth is delivering a self-righteous speech. If you believe her words, you will soon become a part of her; if you don't, she will find a way to make you believe.]
[...]
Cynthia was well aware of her own sins and felt no shame for them.
Few who reached her position had clean hands. Lies were commonplace, and killing was a necessity.
All she could do was avoid committing evil for her own greed beyond what was necessary. Compared to her colleagues, she was incorruptible and impartial; the blood on her hands was merely the result of going with the flow, of doing what the situation demanded.
Cynthia walked calmly toward the tumor, watching as the behemoth began to seep blood without any warning.
She froze for a moment, and then she saw a young man in red step out from behind the tumor, standing before her with a slouch.
"If I'm not mistaken, you must be the 'Supporting Character,'" the young man said, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes full of mockery.
Cynthia tried to back away, but she felt as if she were frozen in place by some unseen force, unable to move.
She asked coldly, "Why do you say that?"
"Because you're about to die." The young man walked toward her step by step, extending a finger with a bladed nail and thrusting it toward her forehead.
Cynthia felt a sharp pain between her brows, followed by a searing liquid trickling down like molten lava.
She knew it was her blood. Her flesh was being split in two, peeling away.
She wanted to struggle, to scream, but she couldn't make the slightest sound or movement.
She knew her death was inevitable, and a profound sense of indignation slowly filled her heart.
Why was *she* the supporting character?
She had clawed her way to this position, so why did she have to die in a place like this?
Her consciousness began to fray as her thoughts drifted far away, as if she had returned to her school days, more than sixty years ago.
Back then, she had wanted to run for student council president, but the others had sneered at her. "You're poor and ugly. How could you possibly become president?"
That was the first failure of her life. She etched it into her memory and, through her own hard work, made sure it would be her last.
She climbed higher, step by step. The higher she went, the more she could see, and the more she could feel the presence of those above her—figures who could crush her with a single finger, layered one upon another like a sky-blotting canopy, almost suffocating her.
So, she had to climb even higher. Just becoming the administrator of West Silesia wasn't enough; she had to keep climbing...
Then, the Weird Game appeared.
...
[Character Card - Villain - "I'll Be Back" effect has been activated.] Silvery-white text cut through the darkness as Qi Si opened his eyes in Room 4.
His recent death had not been a pleasant experience. He felt like a pile of scattered building blocks, dismantled and then reassembled by some force. To call it "death" wasn't quite accurate; perhaps "annihilation" was a better word.
To have never existed, leaving not even the faintest trace, as if there had never been anyone named "Qi Si" in the world, and no memories associated with such a person would ever exist again...
The feeling was awful.
Qi Si mulled it over for a long while and decided the crux of the problem was likely the lack of pain.
A distinct death was often accompanied by intense pain; only then could one truly feel that they had once been alive.
Yes, even though Qi Si was afraid of pain, he still felt that death—much like the ritual of making a wish before eating a birthday cake—was more meaningful if it hurt a little.
Qi Si lingered in bed a little longer. When he figured enough time had passed, he got up and pushed the door open.
The stage lights were still brilliant. The five doors, excluding his own, were all silently closed, revealing nothing.
Qi Si walked straight to Room 1 and gave the door a tentative push. It didn't budge.
He then knocked politely three times. There was no answer.
It was hard to say if it was unexpected or just as he'd predicted. In any case, Cynthia's odds were not looking good.
Qi Si felt a flicker of sympathy for a second, then turned and slipped into Room 2.
In the center of the once-empty room, a small mountain of props and puppets had suddenly appeared, identical to the scene Qi Si had witnessed in Room 4 the previous night. Something was visibly buried beneath it.
Qi Si strolled over, leisurely moving the piled-up objects one by one, revealing the bloody tumor of flesh underneath.
The tumor was half the height of a person, its surface dotted with crimson lips. At this moment, every mouth was spewing copious amounts of fresh blood, which congealed into a thin, reddish film.
Qi Si waited patiently for a moment. Wisps of smoke rose and coalesced before his eyes into a black card—
[Character Card - Supporting Character (Expired)]
The monster corresponding to Cynthia was in Room 2, and she had entered Room 2 last night, yet she hadn't obtained her character card or activated its effect.
So, she died, utterly powerless to resist.
If Hansen's death could be explained by him not surviving long enough to choose a room, then Cynthia's death demonstrated the playwright's profound malice.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape her predetermined fate, simply because she was a supporting character—a "minor role" in the playwright's eyes.
"It seems I'm still favored by our unseen playwright," Qi Si remarked with a smile, but his eyes were ice-cold.
This instance was far too influenced by the playwright's subjectivity; it had already strayed beyond the bounds of "fairness"...
The Identity Cards had been twisted into character cards, the main quest still hadn't appeared, and everything they were experiencing felt nothing like a typical instance of the Weird Game...
But rather, a performance directed by the playwright.
...
In Room 6, Dong Xiwen had been awake for a while.
He listened to Qi Si's footsteps fade away outside the door and fell deep in thought.
*"Zhou Ke" is still alive, so the probability of him being the "Protagonist" has gone up a bit...*
*He Hui is definitely suspicious. Maybe she really is the "Villain"...*
*Could this get any more ridiculous? What the hell is going on?*
Dong Xiwen hesitated for a long moment before also leaving his room and heading toward the rooms further down.
Qi Si hadn't closed the door when he entered Room 2, so Dong Xiwen plunged right in, and the next second, he saw the hideous ball of flesh.
He cursed, "What the hell? Don't tell me this is a new character..."
Qi Si tossed the Supporting Character card in his hand to Dong Xiwen. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the monster corresponding to Cynthia's sin. Because Cynthia is dead, it's dead too."
Cynthia had lost all goodwill over the past few days, so the casual news of her death elicited no sorrow.
Dong Xiwen toyed with the card, then realized something was wrong. "If the monster corresponding to Cynthia was in Room 2, and she entered Room 2 yesterday, why didn't she get her character card?"
Qi Si lowered his gaze and sighed. "It seems my deduction was flawed. There might be another way to obtain the character cards. What I told you yesterday might not have been accurate. He Hui's sin may not be in Room 3."
A bit of self-deprecation could make his other words more believable. Dong Xiwen pressed on, "That doesn't make sense either... Didn't we already vote to kill Charlie yesterday? Why did someone else die?"
Qi Si glanced coolly at Dong Xiwen, who had turned into a question machine, and retorted, "The reason the sins didn't kill on the first night was because their 'stomachs were full.' Do you think a wooden Charlie could fill the stomachs of those monsters?"
Dong Xiwen: "...I have no rebuttal."
He Hui arrived late, walking into Room 2 with her head bowed.
She too was startled by the sight of the tumor on the floor, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
Dong Xiwen casually handed her the Supporting Character card.
After being stirred up by Qi Si yesterday, his trust in He Hui had wavered. But on second thought, he felt that being assigned the "Villain" role wasn't her choice, so there was no need to treat her as a complete enemy.
No matter what, the best outcome was for everyone to survive together.
When He Hui saw the words "Supporting Character," her face paled. She mumbled softly, "I'm sorry, I lied to you yesterday. I'm not actually the Supporting Character, I'm..."
"No need to apologize," Qi Si interrupted, turning his head with a magnanimous smile. "If I were in your position, I would have chosen to lie as well. These roles are, in the end, just something this instance has thrust upon us. If you want to reveal it, you can. If not, no one's forcing you."
He Hui was left speechless. Dong Xiwen, however, seemed to remember something. "I'm the Audience," he said. "I have a role effect that lets me see the script's progress bar. I saw that the bar is very long. It looks like we're only about halfway through..."
"The Audience, you say?" Qi Si's eyes narrowed.
A flash of insight sparked in his mind. The vague, indefinable premonition he'd had all along finally solidified. Beneath his mask, a knowing smile formed on his lips.
At the same time, new text refreshed on the system interface.
[Act Three Begins]
[This Act is a Battle Royale.]