Chapter 2: Death of the Minority |
Ming Po followed behind Lin Ya, slowly walking toward the only empty seat at the round table.
"Wait a moment."
But just as Ming Po reached the man in glasses, the bespectacled man in the suit suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm.
Lin Ya's heart instantly leaped, and she looked back.
She knew exactly how dangerous and unhinged the eccentric man behind her was, but the others at the table had no idea.
The sudden loss of control sent her heart into her throat. In her mind, at least, Ming Po was already half an ally. If they came to blows here, it would complicate things immensely, even if she wasn't caught in the crossfire.
"Um..."
Lin Ya instinctively tried to defuse the situation.
But when her gaze landed on Ming Po's face, she froze.
Ming Po made no move to break free or resist. He merely gave a slight bow, looked the man in the eyes, and asked earnestly, "Is there something I can help you with?"
If Lin Ya hadn't seen the carnage outside... even she would have thought he was just a mild-mannered pediatrician, an elementary school teacher, or a children's show host.
"You're not the one who brought us here, are you?"
The man in glasses asked in a calm tone, "I mean, you aren't with the Authorities."
"Of course not," Ming Po replied.
"Then did you see the man from just now?"
The man slowly pressed on, "I mean, why didn't he come back? And why did you come in?"
He was undoubtedly suspicious of Ming Po.
And rightfully so. Compared to everyone else who had appeared together at the round table, Ming Po coming in from the outside made him an anomaly from the start.
If he wasn't the Host or an examiner, it was entirely possible he was the danger itself.
He stared intently at Ming Po, locking eyes with him.
Ming Po's smile faded slightly, and he even looked somewhat sorrowful.
"He's already dead," Ming Po said, hiding nothing. "Turned to ash... Not even a corpse was left behind.
"Clearly, leaving this place is not permitted."
"Then," the man refused to back down, "why were you outside?"
"I don't know either. I'm just as confused as the rest of you."
Ming Po shook his head and said sincerely, "Perhaps the organizer of this place anticipated the need for a substitute?"
"But I don't recommend breaking the rules any further."
Ming Po added earnestly, "I was the only one waiting outside. If someone else breaks the rules, I don't know... whether the rest of us will be exempt from this game and have to wait for a new candidate, or..."
At his words, the others at the table began to look uneasy.
The man in glasses, however, furrowed his brow slightly.
He was starting to sense a problem.
In truth, he had already deduced their situation. Everyone sitting here was likely dead. And the reason they had been gathered was probably because someone wanted them to accomplish, witness, or prove something...
But he didn't know the specific rules of this place, nor what dangers they might face.
Yet, looking at the motive... he realized this guy was implying to the others that leaving would endanger those left behind.
Apart from him, everyone else was essentially lost.
They lacked the resolve to just run away, so when it came time to consult the group, this strange man's implication would cause the others to fiercely veto any attempt to escape.
Since they were already wavering, it was easy to sway them.
'So, this man's motive is to push us to play the game.'
'Can his words be trusted? If he isn't the Host or with the Authorities, what else could he be...'
Deep in thought, the man glanced at Lin Ya.
Though she didn't know him, he knew who she was.
In fact, he could guess what this place was largely because he recognized her.
Lin Ya, a master's student in applied psychology at Tianjing University, and an independent content creator—practically a colleague of his. Her main domain was relationship advice. She hosted live streams analyzing people's stories to determine whether their partners still loved them or not, offering her verdict.
She was a moderately successful influencer with nearly a million followers across all platforms.
Just a few months ago, she was caught in a media shitstorm, got canceled, and subsequently committed suicide by burning charcoal in her apartment. He had followed the story, and his own viewers had even asked him about the legal ramifications during his streams.
Because of this, he knew Lin Ya was no simpleton; she definitely wasn't some naive wallflower who'd fall head over heels at the first sight of a handsome face. Therefore, when she suddenly grew tense while he was questioning the man... it was highly likely the two of them had quietly formed some kind of alliance.
He knew that if he kept interrogating the man, he would probably irritate the others at the table.
So, although his suspicions regarding Ming Po remained—and had even grown—he dropped the interrogation and released Ming Po's arm.
"My apologies, sir."
The man nodded, putting on a smile as he took the initiative to apologize. "Please, have a seat."
Turning to the rest of the group, he suggested, "Since we're just waiting around, why don't we introduce ourselves?
"I'll start. My surname is Chen, and I'm a lawyer. In my final memory, I couldn't dodge in time and was sent flying by a massive truck on the street..."
As he spoke, the expressions of the people around the table shifted. Yet, no one else spoke up.
Ming Po noticed that at least half of them either furrowed their brows or pursed their lips.
Did they not want to introduce themselves?
Or did they not want to explain how they died?
Ming Po settled into the only empty seat and blinked slightly.
The problem was, he couldn't remember how he died at all.
Even his own memories had grown fuzzy... He couldn't even say for sure what his job was.
'Am I the only special case?'
A thought struck Ming Po, and an idea formed.
He raised his hand slightly, a gentle, cheerful smile on his face. "I'll go second, then. My name is Ai Shiping, and I'm a screenwriter. As for my cause of death... it's a bit blurry, but I think I fell from a great height."
Naturally, he couldn't use his real name.
So, Ming Po casually offered a fake name that lingered hazily in his memory—and the cause of death was meant to explain why he was wearing a coat.
The moment he walked in, he had noticed... Some people here were in pajamas, others in short sleeves, and some in hospital gowns. These were clearly the clothes they had died in.
His outfit, complete with a trench coat and scarf, already narrowed down his possible causes of death.
After Ming Po spoke, Lin Ya also smiled and chimed in, "I'm Lin Xiaoyan, a university student. My cause of death was probably... a gas leak?"
She was lying.
Ming Po glanced slightly at the young woman beside him.
It wasn't based on logic, but intuition. He instantly knew she was lying.
This was followed by a deeper sense of confusion: 'Just who am I, and why do I have these instincts?'
After the three of them, the others reluctantly revealed their identities.
"I'm Yang Shuang," said the middle-aged woman with round, gold-rimmed glasses sitting at seat number five. "An English teacher. As for how I died... I'd rather not say. I'm sorry."
Her expression grew sorrowful as she spoke.
"My name's Liu Jianguo, and I'm a farmer," the dark-skinned elderly man said with a chuckle. "So this is the underworld, huh? I died of an illness, cancer in the guts! Though my body feels a lot lighter now."
He was the player sitting furthest from the door, at the twelve o'clock position.
"I am..."
With the ice broken, the others began to loosen their tongues.
But right then, a sharp, manic, and energetic voice suddenly erupted from the center of the round table, cutting off their introductions.
"Sorry, sorry!"
"Hey, hey, hey, I'm late, not absent—hold your horses, listen to me!"
The speaker wasn't anyone at the table, but a bizarre black cat.
There had been absolutely nothing there a moment ago; the table had been empty.
It simply materialized out of thin air, completely unnoticed.
Three necklaces hung around the black cat's neck: a crimson eyeball, a mouth with thick lips, and a muscular, calloused right hand.
The cat sat serenely in the center, while the eyeball orbited it like a satellite, slowly studying everyone.
The mouth yammered non-stop at breakneck speed, like a host blitzing through an overly long ad read. The right hand made frantic gestures in time with the words, twitching with hyperactive energy: "Shut up, shut up! I wouldn't recommend giving out your real names so casually, doxxing is always dangerous! This is for your own good, darlings!"
"We're all dead anyway. What danger could there be?"
A young man shot back.
"Oh, really?"
The cat—or rather, the mouth hanging from the cat's neck—twisted into an eerie smile. "And what if I told you... you all have the chance to come back to life? Of course... not everyone gets that chance."
At those words, the atmosphere at the table shifted.
Silence washed over them like a tidal wave, instantly drowning out the previous chatter.
As if savoring the dead quiet, the eyeball closed in rapture, while the right hand pointed a finger, conducting the air like a maestro as the mouth hummed a melodious tune. "Hmm-hmm..."
Suddenly, the hand shot straight up, pointing at the ceiling.
The group followed the gesture, and Lin Ya couldn't help but let out a scream.
Hanging from the ceiling was no crystal chandelier!
It was a cluster of twelve faintly glowing, massive marble swords!
Or rather, they weren't 'swords', but enormous stone stakes shaped like crosses!
The room was incredibly high, far taller than a normal room, and the domed ceiling made it easy to lose all sense of scale. At a passing glance, one would only assume it was a chandelier.
But looking closely, each pillar was at least seven or eight meters long, and wider than a person's shoulders.
Ming Po also looked up, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.
Heh.
He suddenly understood why that good Samaritan had rushed outside to give him such a warm welcome.
He must have seen the ceiling when he was lying down, and that was what terrified him so!
Just noticing them sent chills down everyone's spines—as if the pillars could drop at any second and crush them into paste!
"Welcome to the Game of Deception, Wronged Dead!"
The manic voice echoed from the cat's back, sounding like an overly hyped commentator hosting the finals of a soccer match, horse race, or esports tournament. "Ladies and gentlemen, are you picturing all sorts of inescapable death games right now?
Well, you've guessed wrong!
Our game has lenient, merciful rules—survive any single game, and you can leave!
You can leave the game at any time, and join the game at any time. As long as you have the entry ticket for the corresponding game, that is, the matching chips... Yes, this is a 'pay-to-play' game, not a 'mandatory' one!
Our game offers lavish rewards—win just one round, and you'll earn your starting chips, which serve as your ticket for the qualifiers!
Each copper hourglass chip represents 'one hour' of time. You can insert this precious hour into your past, alter what you did in that hour, and achieve an impossible resurrection!
Our game holds miraculous power—look at the chips in your hands! With these Time Chips, you can rewrite your fate however you please!
Bring the dead back to life, carry future knowledge into the past, skip the learning process to instantly master a skill, flawlessly assassinate someone you despise...
Change the outcome of your own death? A piece of cake! Beyond that, are there no other past regrets you wish to change? Think about it, 'If only I had done this', 'If only I had known'...
"There may be no cure for regret in the mortal world, but regret is exactly what we sell here!"
Hearing that voice, the expressions of everyone at the table transformed.
Greed, jealousy, hatred, longing...
Excitement, weeping, silence, sorrow...
"...I see."
Ming Po lowered his head and murmured, "So that's what... the chips are for."
The room had grown completely silent.
Everyone heard Ming Po's words.
It was like a spark hitting dry kindling—the fires of desire ignited in every pair of eyes.
Lin Ya pursed her lips, casting a dark look around the table before looking up at the heavy crosses dangling above their heads.
She glanced back at Ming Po, but couldn't read any emotion on his face.
"Don't go thinking you can run off with the chips, now."
The mouth gaped wide in a mocking grin and said eerily, "Right now, you are merely the 'Wronged Dead'. You haven't yet become 'Deceivers of the World', so you cannot use the power of time."
As it spoke, the chips in everyone's hands floated into the air on their own.
They melted into individual clusters of crimson flame, condensing into various animal masks.
Lin Ya took the mask in her hands and examined it closely.
'I'm a... rabbit? Why? Is it saying I'm weak?'
She immediately looked to her left and right.
Lawyer Chen held a "Fox", while the handsome, star-like yet completely unknown "Mr. Ai" seemed to have received a "Grey Wolf".
Yang Shuang held a "Sparrow", and Liu Jianguo had a "Black Bear".
Meanwhile, Lawyer Chen was frowning in rapid thought: 'Are these masks distributed randomly? Or is there some specific pattern...'
"If you are willing to participate in the game, put on your masks."
The manic voice on the cat's back suddenly sounded as gentle and patient as someone coaxing children to open their textbooks. "Bet your very existence—
"Remember, if you die here, no one will be left to remember you."
No one left. One by one, in silence, they donned their animal masks.
It was only natural.
They were already dead. If they didn't play to change their demise, they would stay dead.
Since the alternative was death anyway, they might as well try.
As for being remembered by the living... compared to life and death, that didn't matter at all.
When Ming Po put his mask on last, the voice grew frenzied once more and announced loudly:
The qualifiers officially begin!
The difficulty of this game is the lowest tier, the [Hour] level. The minimum clearance reward is [One Hour], and the maximum is [One Day]. Furthermore, you will obtain the Deceiver Authority of the 'Hour's Red Copper' tier, granting you the ability to alter history with Time Chips!
Now then, welcome to—
"—[Death of the Minority]!!"
The masks seemed to act as screens.
Several lines of bloody text materialized before everyone's eyes—
[Death of the Minority]
[Multiplayer Game, No Faction Limits, No Intruders]
[Difficulty: 12 Hours]
[Maximum Possible Survivors: 11 People]
[This game features no additional rules, Hidden Missions, or special worldviews]
Next came the rules of the game.
[Each round lasts ten minutes, consisting of five minutes of narration and five minutes of discussion.]
[During the narration phase, the narrator presents their topic, asking a question with 'only two possible answers', and provides those two options. Before the discussion phase ends, all other players must choose one of the two options.]
[There are three possible outcomes at this point:]
[1. If the answers given are mixed (i.e., A and B are unequal in number), the minority side will be executed.]
[2. If the answers given are unanimous (i.e., everyone chooses A or everyone chooses B), the narrator will be executed.]
[3. If the answers given are mixed and perfectly equal in number (i.e., A = B), no one will be executed.]
[After that, in clockwise order, the next player becomes the new narrator.]
[The game ends when all surviving players have had a turn as the narrator.]
[The fewer people remaining, the greater the clearance rewards.]