Injury transference?
Curse grafting?
Or something else entirely?
Shido Makoto’s mind raced at lightning speed.
He stared at the wound on Shirogane Kei’s finger, blood trickling down in a steady stream, then glanced at the female maid puppet across from them, who continued cutting food with mechanical precision.
Alarm bells screamed in his mind.
The situation was far more complex than he had anticipated.
Before transmigrating, he had watched countless anime, many of which featured similar abilities.
For instance, in Naruto, there was a fellow in the Akatsuki organization named Hidan who, after performing a ritual to obtain his opponent’s blood, could transfer one hundred percent of the damage he sustained onto that opponent.
That kind of ability was nearly unbeatable.
Could this puppet have a similar rule?
If so, this was going to be a massive problem.
It meant that no matter how you defended yourself, if the opponent started self-mutilating, you would inevitably be wounded.
This was an attack that could not be evaded!
But it hadn’t obtained Shirogane Kei’s blood, nor had it performed any preliminary ritual motions.
How was this injury transference even being established?
Was it because Shirogane Kei was sitting across from it?
Or was it because she had gone to the second floor today and triggered some kind of hidden mark?
If it was the former, then he and the Artist were also sitting across from the puppet—why hadn’t they become targets?
If it was the latter, then he and the Artist had also gone to the second floor—why was it specifically Shirogane Kei?
Countless questions flashed through Shido Makoto’s mind, but he didn’t have time to verify them one by one.
He glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall.
The hour hand pointed to [19:52].
Eight minutes remained until dinner ended.
Before Shido Makoto could fully grasp what was happening, the female maid puppet sitting across from Shirogane Kei made a new movement.
It raised the dinner knife again.
This time, it aimed at its own left forearm.
“Sssrrrip——”
A soft sound rang out as the knife slashed across the puppet’s small arm, leaving a wound several centimeters long.
The cut ran deep—bone was visible—but not a single drop of blood flowed from it.
“Mmgh!”
A muffled groan came from beside Shido Makoto.
He immediately turned his head.
Shirogane Kei’s body convulsed violently.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, her teeth nearly breaking through the skin.
Beads of cold sweat the size of beans rolled down her forehead.
On her left forearm, the school uniform sleeve was rapidly dyed crimson.
A wound identical to the one on the puppet’s arm appeared out of nowhere—flesh split and peeled, fresh blood pouring out in a steady stream, running down her arm.
Such agony blurred Shirogane Kei’s vision, yet she still held herself together, refusing to make any sound beyond the acceptable range.
She knew that if she cried out, the horrors waiting for her would be far worse than this.
“Damn it!”
Shido Makoto cursed silently in his heart. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
The puppet’s attack pattern was escalating gradually!
From a finger to the forearm—where would the next cut be?
The thigh?
The chest?
The neck?
If left unchecked, forget eight minutes—Shirogane Kei could bleed out and die here within the next minute!
He had to find a way to stop it!
But how?
Attack the puppet?
No.
That would create noise, and he’d be the first to die.
Escape the dining hall with Shirogane Kei?
No again.
Dinner time was fixed from seven to eight o’clock.
The rules explicitly required not missing dinner.
Leaving midway would likely trigger instant death.
The only option was to find the way to break this curse!
Shido Makoto forced himself to calm down, replaying everything that had just happened in his mind.
From entering the dining hall, to sitting down, to the puppet launching its attack—every action Shirogane Kei had taken was identical to his and the Artist’s.
Nothing unusual.
Was it truly unbreakable?
That thought lasted only a moment before he dismissed it.
Though the rules of the Cycle Game were bizarre, most of them had traces to follow.
Pure random instant death had no logic and contradicted the game’s very nature.
There had to be something he hadn’t considered!
Meanwhile, the Programmer, seated at a distance, had also witnessed this eerie scene.
He stared at Shirogane Kei in utter shock.
Injury from thin air?
What kind of ability was this?!
He found himself grateful he had chosen to sit farther from these three.
Otherwise, it might have been him sitting across from that puppet right now!
A sinister, shadowy pleasure rose in his heart.
Die.
It would be best if all three of them died here.
He watched Shirogane Kei endure her suffering with cold indifference, not a shred of pity in his heart.
In his view, these three banding together was itself a threat to him.
Now that one was about to be eliminated, that was a good thing.
He even began anticipating where the puppet’s next blade would cut.
The Artist, seated on Shido Makoto’s other side, had been frightened out of her wits.
She watched blood flow steadily from Shirogane Kei’s arm, then looked at the emotionless puppet across from them.
She wanted to help, but had no idea what to do.
With less than ten minutes remaining until dinner ended, time seemed to stretch into infinity.
The intense pain in her arm and the sensation of hemorrhaging made her vision swim in and out of focus.
She could sense that the puppet across from her was about to move again.
With immense effort, she lifted her eyelids.
Through her blurring sight, she saw the female maid puppet raise the dinner knife once more.
This time, the blade tip was aimed at its chest.
That was where the heart was.
It’s over…
The thought flashed through Shirogane Kei’s mind.
She was unwilling.
She didn’t want to die here.
She couldn’t understand why it was her.
She had strictly followed the senior’s instructions—she hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound—so why had she still become the chosen target?
She turned her gaze to Shido Makoto, seeking help.
But at this moment, she saw his brow furrowed, his expression grave, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Clearly, he too was straining his mind to find a way out.
Shirogane Kei’s heart sank.
It was useless.
No one could save her.
An image of her father’s unkempt face flashed through Shirogane Kei’s mind.
Dad…
I’m sorry…
Kei might not be coming home…
She silently apologized to her distant father in her heart, then slowly closed her eyes, waiting for the final judgment to arrive.
I hope my death will help the senior and the Artist find a way to break through this…
Just as the female maid puppet was about to thrust the dinner knife into its own chest—
At this critical, hair-trigger moment!
A hand suddenly grasped Shirogane Kei’s right hand with force!
Shirogane Kei’s eyes snapped open in astonishment.
It was the senior?!
What was he trying to do?
She saw Shido Makoto’s other hand grip a dinner fork at some point.
Without any hesitation, under Shirogane Kei’s uncertain gaze, Shido Makoto raised the fork and drove it down directly into her palm!
“!!!”
Shirogane Kei’s eyes widened instantly.
But whether it was due to some inexplicable trust in Shido Makoto or because her nerves had been numbed by terror, she didn’t struggle.
She didn’t pull her hand away.
“Pffft!”
…
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🔥 New history: Samsara Game: