The middle-aged man knelt in the dirt, palms pressed together so hard his fingers shook. Sweat ran down his temples.
His breath came out in thin, fast bursts. He was already hyperventilating.
"D-don't kill me! L-let's find another way we can start this without any bloodshed!"
Pinboy tilted his head, watching him with the bright-eyed curiosity of someone seeing a new toy. Then he lifted one hand to his forehead, fingers splayed dramatically, and stretched his other arm outward like he was performing for an opera.
"Oh," he groaned, dragging the sound out, "why must fate demand such cruelty from a cute little guy like me?"
He took a single step back and slapped his palm against his chest. "Human life is precious, you know. Absolutely precious."
Someone in the back muttered, "What is he doing…?"
Fèi Míng stood still. The puppet strings dug into his forearm with more pressure. Pinboy's overacting was done on purpose. He watched the exaggerated gestures. 'I know he's trying to impose himself as a good person but... The melodrama is... terrible. And he's wasting even more time.'
Then it clicked. He looked up to where the strings streamed from. One tightened around his neck. 'He's defying the Mayor. He knows exactly what he's doing. Creating more tension.'
He rested on a stage pole behind him. 'I hate to admit. Although it's inefficient. It'll work. I'm enjoying this.'
"Ah, tragedy!" Pinboy spun toward Nyx, hooked her by the wrist, and dragged her into a loose, clumsy waltz.
Nyx stumbled, almost catching her heel on the flat floor. He dipped her halfway, nose nearly touching hers. "Tell me, dear Nyx… could humans really be this cruel? Sacrificing one another like livestock? Isn't it awful? Horrible? Downright sinful?"
She went red. Caught-in-a-stupid-situation red.
Her gaze dropped to the man whimpering on the ground.
"T-this… this is for the greater good," she forced out. Her voice wavered as the strings tightened against her neck. "And not acting your role… puts us all in danger." Squeezing her eyes shut, she rushed out her words in a quiet whisper. "Please just… do what you must."
Pinboy paused. His grin twitched wider.
A voice from the crowd snapped, "JUST KILL HIM!!! Act your damn role!"
'Perfect.'
The man broke. His shoulders curled inward, voice dissolving into helpless sobs. " I beg you… my son… h-he's waiting for me in the gray zone!"
Pinboy straightened, let go of Nyx, and softly clapped his hands together.
Then his grin sharpened.
"See? You all do want him dead!" He crouched near the man and patted his cheek. "And here I thought I was the heartless one."
Fèi Míng noticed the slight shift in Pinboy's posture.
Pinboy slipped a pistol prop from his belt, except it wasn't a prop.
He lifted it. Click.
"With pleasure."
Bang!
The man's body dropped forward. Thud. His knees folded, hands sliding uselessly along the ground with a hole in his chest.
Ding!
[First act complete!]
The strings on everyone's heads loosened.
Pinboy exhaled happily. "Now everyone is happy!"
Fèi Míng watched him, expression unchanged. His eyes lowered to the dead man on the floor, the blood splattered on the stage, seeping onto the ground as it dripped off the stage.
'Entertaining. Now, would this count as a part of my orchestrated deaths? Or not?' He looked back at the hostages. 'But there's no way I could absorb the core here. Too many eyes.'
Pinboy wiped his hands on his pants.
"Now that that is out of the way," he said, spinning toward the others with a bright grin, "let's all come clean with our roles, hm? The sooner we stop guessing, the sooner we avoid… surprise rearrangements of our limbs." His voice dropped to a playful whisper. "I hate messy stages."
He walked right back to Nyx. She froze as he cupped both her hands like some dramatic lover. Her ears turned red immediately.
"Tell me, Nyx." He leaned in. "What's your role?"
Nyx blinked too many times. Her breath stuttered. "I-i-i—"
Fèi Míng watched the interaction with a dull stare. Pinboy really was a walking chaotic sexual gremlin.
Before Nyx could spill a word, Eris slapped Pinboy's hands away.
"Back off, loser," she snapped. "Why should we trust you, you walking STD stand?"
Pinboy let out the most dramatic sigh possible and crouched on the ground, elbows on knees, head thrown back.
"But if we don't know each other's roles and purpose," he whined, "this whole thing will drag and get boring. I hate boring."
From his spot, Fèi Míng inhaled slowly. His thoughts drifted to the middle-aged man again, replaying the whole scenario in his head.
He forced the warmth off his expression and cleared his throat.
"I know we're all scared," he said. His voice stayed calm. "But hiding our roles is inefficient."
He forced a smile. It looked normal enough.
"What if we only reveal the name of our role, not the purpose? I'm 'The Mayor.' My purpose is to give justice when due."
A lie, naturally.
"Although, there's no need to state your purpose."
A few players nodded.
His gaze slid to Olive. "What about yours, Olive?"
Olive stiffened. He hadn't spoken once since entering the theater. He gritted his teeth before he muttered, "I'm the beggar."
'So he really picked the dull clothes.'
Eris shifted, arms crossed. "I'm the seamstress."
Nyx, still pink around the edges, raised her hand halfway. "I'm… the wife."
A grown man in a black suit with matching glasses lifted a hand next. "The priest," he said.
Fèi Míng recognized him as the man who was quite blunt with a woman before the third game. He had worn a white, blood-stained suit then.
Others began listing their roles, one by one.
Then a smaller boy hesitated. His messy dark hair clung to his forehead as he swallowed hard. "M-my name is Dot," he whispered. "I'm the Investigator. Since it's an important role… I'll list my purpose. I'm supposed to find the killer. Go door to door, and question everyone."
Fèi Míng marked him immediately. Investigator.
It was a perfect clash to his own role. To bury deaths and hide the truth.
Once everyone finished, one thing became painfully clear.
No one admitted to being the Killer.
No Villain either.
So someone lied. Or someone had a double role.
Before anyone could address that, the Runic board flashed above them. Ding!
[Prepare for your next act!]
[Act 2: The Investigator Questions.]
[Act 2.1: The Bleeding Woman Slits Her Throat!]
The room inhaled at once.
Everyone's eyes snapped toward the woman who held that role. She stood rigid, her face set in a tired grimace before her knees buckled. She sank to the floor, breath shuddering.
"I knew beforehand that I'd kill myself," she said. Her voice was thin. "So… make it quick. I wasn't going to last long anyway."
Her eyes squeezed shut as her trembling hand reached under part of her dress. A thin blade glimmered between her fingers. She passed it to the closest person.
Fèi Míng.
"No! Fae!" a man yelled from the crowd. He stumbled forward, almost tripping as he stood in the center of the stage. "Don't do this! Why would you give up like that?!" His voice cracked.
"Please— please, sir—" He looked at Fèi Míng desperately. "Don't encourage her. She doesn't know what she's saying. W-we can find another way!"
But Fèi Míng barely heard him.
'A clean, willing death...'
The acceptance in her voice— the hopeless, unwavering surrender— hit him like a warm exhale down his spine.
He picked the blade, and pressed it lightly to her throat. But then lowered it again and leaned close to whisper against her ear.
"Even at the end, you still can't take a single step," he murmured. "What a pathetic life you must have had."
Her eyes blew wide as she gasped. A wave of terror struck her and she shuddered.
Her hand instantly closed around the blade.
And she thrust it into her neck.
****
"What do you mean over 100 people just disappeared from the Gray zone! And the Awakeners aren't doing anything?!" A man yelled.
His palms were flat on an office table, shoulders stiff and tensed enough to strain the seams of his suit. His eyebags looked permanent, and his dark hair slicked back, hiding under gel.
"We—we only got the report ten minutes ago," a junior officer opposite him stammered. "The building still appears intact, sir, but it's starting to crack. If the players in there fail, it'll be another catastrophe."
The man in the suit dragged a hand down his tired face. The dark circles under his eyes stretched slightly.
"I haven't figured out how these games work over the years. Our infrastructures are slowly going extinct, the games are too many to handle, if the monsters were useful, it'll be better, but they all vanished after these games end, everywhere is fucking filthy and what the hell are the Awakeners doing?! Dispatch them! Don't give me a headache!" He rambled on and on.
"They are in Japan, Mr Hwan. You sent Miss Misfortune there to break their borders like the rest."
Hwan almost ripped off his hair, bile rising in his throat as he forced a breath in. "Fuck it! If only we got our hands on the Core before the Krats did. Fucking piece of—!"
The door slammed open.
A second officer stumbled in, almost tripping on the threshold. Sweat dotted his forehead. "Director! Director—sir—you need to see this!"
"WHAT?!!!"
The officer flinched. "A Red Zone Towner reported three unusual deaths."
"Oh, pish-posh. How is that alarming?!" Mr Hwan waved one hand. "It's the Red Zone. People die there every hour."
"No, sir." The other officer's voice dropped. "Please… take a look at the bodies. There was something wrong with how they died. And one of the bodies found is related to a Mid-level Krat leader."