Here's the English translation of the provided text:
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An old tungsten filament light bulb hung from a black wire in the center of the room, flickering with a dim glow.
Quietness spread through the room like ink dripping into clear water, permeating the space.
A large, worn round table stood in the very center of the room. On it sat a small, ornately patterned clock, its steady *tick-tock* echoing in the silence.
Ten people, dressed in various worn and dusty clothes, sat around the table. Their faces were smudged with grime. Some lay slumped on the tabletop, others leaned back in their chairs, all deeply asleep.
Beside them stood a man wearing a goat-head mask and a black suit. His gaze, piercing through the eyeholes of the aged mask, watched the ten sleepers with keen interest.
The clock on the table chimed. Both the minute and hour hands pointed precisely to **twelve**.
From somewhere far beyond the room, a deep, resonant bell toll echoed.
At that exact moment, the ten men and women seated around the table began to stir.
As consciousness returned, they first looked around in confusion, then exchanged puzzled glances.
None seemed to remember how they had arrived here.
"Good morning, nine of you," the Goat Head spoke first, his voice cutting through the haze. "I'm pleased to meet you here. You've been asleep before me for twelve hours."
The man's bizarre appearance, accentuated by the dim light, startled the group.
His mask appeared to be fashioned from a real goat's head, its fur yellowed, blackened, and matted in places. Two holes were cut for the eyes, revealing cunning, observant pupils. His movements carried not only the distinct, pungent smell of goat, but also a faint undercurrent of decay.
A man with a full-sleeve tattoo hesitated for a few seconds before stammering, the sheer absurdity of the situation dawning on him, "You... who are you?"
"I trust you all share that question. Allow me to introduce myself to the nine of you," the Goat Head replied cheerfully, waving his hands as if he had long rehearsed this moment.
A young man named Qi Xia sat farthest from the Goat Head. He swiftly scanned the room, his expression turning grave within moments.
*Strange. This room is incredibly strange.*
There was no door. All four walls were solid.
In other words, the room was completely sealed – walls, ceiling, floor. Yet, a table stood in the middle. How had they gotten in?
Had the walls been built *after* they were placed inside?
Qi Xia looked around again. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all marked with intersecting horizontal and vertical lines, dividing them into large squares.
Another point bothered him: the Goat Head had said "**nine** of you."
No matter how he counted, there were ten people seated around the table. Including the Goat Head himself, that made eleven people in the room.
What did "**nine**" mean?
He reached into his pocket. Unsurprisingly, his phone was gone.
"There's no need for introductions," a cool, composed woman's voice addressed the Goat Head. "I advise you to cease this immediately. I suspect you've detained us for over twenty-four hours, constituting **illegal detention**. Every word you say now will be recorded and used as evidence against you."
As she spoke, she brushed distastefully at the dust on her arm, seeming more offended by the grime than by the imprisonment itself.
Her words brought a wave of clarity to the others. Regardless of who this person was, kidnapping ten people single-handedly was a clear violation of the law.
"Wait..." A middle-aged man in a white lab coat interrupted the group's train of thought. He slowly turned his gaze towards the composed woman and asked, "We all just woke up. How do *you* know we've been detained for '**twenty-four hours**'?"
His tone was steady and firm, cutting straight to the point.
The woman remained unruffled. She pointed calmly at the clock on the table. "That clock shows twelve o'clock. But I'm a night owl; the last time I looked at a clock at home, it was already midnight. That means we've been held for at least twelve hours."
She gestured towards the surrounding walls. "You've all surely noticed by now – this room has no door. That indicates significant effort was expended to get us inside. He says we've been asleep for twelve hours, and now the clock points to twelve again, implying at least one full cycle. Hence, I suspect it's '**over twenty-four hours**.' Any problem with that?"
The man in the lab coat listened, then fixed her with a cold, suspicious stare.
After all, in this environment, her composure was unnerving.
Would a normal person react to kidnapping with such detached analysis?
A sturdy young man in a black T-shirt spoke up, directing his question at the Goat Head: "Goat Head, why did you say there are nine of us when there are ten here?"
The Goat Head remained silent, offering no immediate reply.
"Fucking bastard, I don't care how many are here..." the tattooed man cursed. He tried to push himself up from the table but found his legs limp and useless. He could only point a shaking finger at the Goat Head and continue, "Asshole, you better wise up. You have no idea how serious the consequences of messing with me are. I'll fucking kill you."
His words stirred a sense of resolve among the other men. They needed someone to take the lead. If they could overpower the Goat Head together, they might still regain control.
But everyone quickly realized their legs felt unnaturally weak, as if injected with something paralyzing.
Frustrated, the tattooed man could only continue his verbal assault, shouting threats.
Qi Xia stayed silent, his hand resting thoughtfully on his chin. His eyes were fixed on the clock, deep in contemplation.
Things seemed far more complicated than they appeared.
He understood the Goat Head meant "**nine participants**." If there were ten people here, it meant one of them wasn't a participant.
Who was it?
The group consisted of six men and four women. Was one of them the kidnapper?
The Goat Head stopped speaking. He moved slowly past Qi Xia and stopped behind a young man. The others followed his gaze.
They realized this young man was different. Though his face was also dirty, it bore an unnervingly blissful smile.
The Goat Head slowly raised his hand and placed it on the back of the young man's head.
The young man's smile widened grotesquely. He looked excitedly at the others, as if he had known this was coming.
***THUD.***
A sickening crunch echoed as the Goat Head slammed the young man's head face-first onto the table with brutal force.
**Pinkish-white matter**, like spilled paint, exploded across the table surface in an instant. Drops of blood spattered onto every face.
The young man's skull had been **shattered** against the wood.
From far beyond the room, another distant bell toll echoed.
Qi Xia, sitting close to the victim, felt a piece of warm, viscous *something* stick to his cheek.
He considered himself mentally resilient, but now he trembled uncontrollably.
The woman seated to the dead man's right stared for three seconds before her face contorted in horror. A piercing **scream** tore from her throat.
That scream shattered the fragile composure of everyone present.
To smash the hardest bone in the human body against a table with bare hands... was the Goat Head even **human**? How could such a thin frame unleash such terrifying power?
The Goat Head finally spoke, his voice calm amidst the carnage:
"The reason there were ten... was so that one could be used to ensure the **silence** of the nine."