Based on the crapshow of the last race, there are definitely some hidden rules at play here — it’s never as straightforward as it looks.
For example, teleportation: it can be used for travel, or for ambush.
She didn’t react strangely upon suddenly learning she was a killer.
Instead, she kept looking up at the sky where the game rules floated in text, while quietly observing others from the corner of her eye.
“Hey? What’s going on? Is this a film shoot? There are words in the sky — it looks so real! And did you hear that voice just now?”
A flashy woman looked excited, like she’d discovered something interesting.
She clearly still hadn’t realized the seriousness of the situation.
The man beside her touched both ears, as if checking for something.
“What is this, a TV show? Where’s the camera? Should we play along?”
The flashy man sounded a bit suspicious — not too dumb — and seemed to sense something was off based on the seriousness on everyone else’s faces.
“Okay, settle down, everyone. Let me say a few words.”
Seat #1 — Zhou Wei, dressed in military uniform — stood up again.
He glanced at the digital clock on the right side of the hall.
After making sure everyone was looking at him, he continued: “There are 9 minutes left. The game starts at exactly 11 o’clock. I’m sure you’ve all seen it — four of us have been designated as killers.”
A loud, coarse laugh drew everyone’s attention.
It came from #15, a bulky man.
Seeing all eyes turn toward him, he waved his hand and gradually stopped laughing.
“Sorry, sorry — couldn’t help it. Please, continue.”
Seat #1 — Zhou Wei — sighed, showing a broad tolerance.
He calmly resumed: “Let me clarify — my identity is civilian.”
He paused for about five seconds before continuing: “Looks like the system doesn’t restrict us from revealing our roles. So yes — I’m a civilian, just like I said earlier. Among the 16 of us, 4 are killers, and 4 are police. Let’s all introduce ourselves. Get to know each other. Let’s start with Seat #2.”
“I… I’m also a civilian. Civilian.”
#2 — Zhang Huiran — seemed nervous. It looked like she might be lying, or maybe she was just scared.
#3 was a scholarly young man, giving off an intellectual vibe. He wore glasses, and his side-swept bangs covered half his face. After Zhang Huiran sat down, #3 stood up and said calmly: “Also a civilian.”
Just four words. No extra information. As soon as he sat down, #1 Zhou Wei jumped in: “Brother civilian, you don’t want to tell us your name or profession?”
#3 adjusted his glasses, stood again, and added: “Qian Min. Investigator. This is my fourth round.”
“What kind of investigator?” #4 cut in.
“A detective,” answered #1 Zhou Wei, and #3 Qian Min nodded in agreement.
Hua Ru calmly scanned the room. Even when her gaze passed over her fellow killer teammates, she didn’t pause — until her eyes met #14’s. There was a very brief moment of hesitation.
She broke out in a cold sweat. Her scalp tingled. Her mind exploded with curses. If she could, she would’ve stood up and yelled in #14’s face.
“Useless teammate” might’ve been invented for people like that. From the very beginning, the idiot had been staring this way — completely unaware that subtlety was key.
It was like a team of thieves eyeing each other in front of a crowd.
Could it be any more obvious that they were linked?
Hua Ru didn’t dare make eye contact again.
If anyone suspicious caught even a flicker of recognition between them, it would spell trouble.
Her other two teammates were far better.
At least they knew how to act.
One of them had a cold, aloof demeanor, arms crossed, eyes focused on the current speaker — #6.
The other was Lapis Lazuli, seated in #12 — two spots away from #10, Dark Sovereign An Xuewu.
That guy clearly knew how to play.
Despite his flamboyant appearance, once he was revealed to be a killer, it became clear he was no fool.
He sat casually, one leg crossed over the other, tossing grapes into the air and catching them with his mouth.
He looked lazy, but at least he wasn’t making the same rookie mistake as #14.
His gaze occasionally lingered on whoever was speaking, and he never once looked at his teammates in a way that would give anything away.
Now it was #7’s turn to introduce himself — and what came out was a bit nonsensical: “Ragna the Bloodedge. No current profession. I—”
“You might as well say your name is Jay Chou!” #8 — a chubby guy with a short temper — cut him off, clearly annoyed.
“I’m Jay Chou. No current—”
“Damn it, why not just say you’re Jackie Chan?”
#8 raised his voice. He looked genuinely pissed, ready to throw punches.
“I’m Jackie Chan. No current—”
#7 said flatly, again interrupted before finishing.
“Cut it out! What did you say your name was again? Raga… Ragna something?”
#1 stepped in before things escalated. “It’s just a codename. Doesn’t matter what it is.”
“Ragna the—”
“Right, right, that. Just three words. Leave it at that,” #1 Zhou Wei gestured for him to stop.
#7 remained expressionless.
“I’m Ragna. No profession. Just an ordinary Japanese high school student. This is my fourth time here. Role: civilian.”
Hua Ru studied #7 carefully.
That was her final killer teammate.
The four killers in this game were:
#7: Ragna.
#9: Hua Ru (herself).
#12: Lapis Lazuli.
#14: not yet introduced.
Ragna’s statement was smooth.
It wasn’t clear if his earlier antics were part of the act or just his natural personality.
He was an ordinary-looking teenager in what resembled a Zhongshan-style Japanese school uniform.
His story was somewhat believable — it was still school hours, and he was wearing a uniform.
Maybe he really was a student.
But why a Japanese high schooler?
His Chinese was surprisingly fluent.
Was he a Japanese national?
Or a Chinese student studying in Japan?
Now #8 — the chubby guy — stood up.
Hua Ru didn’t like him at all.
The man was rough, and earlier, he even fought her over a seat, despite her seemingly delicate appearance.
No manners whatsoever.
“My name is Ip Man.”
As he said the name, he even shot a provocative glance at #7, but the latter showed no reaction whatsoever.
Feeling a bit frustrated by the lack of response, the fat man corrected himself:
“Actually, my name’s Huang Waikai, I’m a chef. Third time here. Also a civilian.”
At this point, all eight people who had spoken claimed to be civilians.
Clearly, they were bluffing — at the very least, #7 was lying, since he was one of the killers.
Our pure, delicate, and shy Miss Hua Ru stood up slowly.
To play the part of a “vulnerable individual,” she had to put on a performance oozing with a kind of fake shyness that would usually irritate the audience.
However, even this “cheap horror movie trope” of a personality didn’t provoke any annoyance — thanks to her looks.
That’s the legendary power of beauty points.
A sloppy NEET who never cleans their room?
If she’s a cute anime girl — it’s moe, not annoying.
A cold-blooded assassin?
If she’s a cute anime girl — it’s adorable, not scary.
So yes — this is a world that runs on looks, whether it’s the real world or the Dark World.
Even if you know this person is a digital fabrication, not the real deal but a constructed persona — that nearly flawless face still makes it hard to feel any hostility.
Well, now #8 Huang Waikai felt a bit of regret — regretting how roughly he had fought over that seat earlier.
About ten seconds after standing up, Hua Ru finally forced out her first sentence.
She pressed her hands lightly to her chest, looking like a timid girl afraid of strangers, and in a soft voice said:
“I… um… I’m Zheng Wen, a first-year high school student… this is my s-second time here… I’m a civilian… really… a civilian…”
As she spoke, her voice trembled, as if on the verge of tears.
Her eyes welled up, and her body slightly shivered.
This was Oscar-level acting, okay?!
She completely outclassed #2 Zhang Huiran — they weren’t even in the same league!
If Hua Ru had been at the 88th Academy Awards, Leonardo DiCaprio wouldn’t have stood a chance at winning, okay?
Well, strictly speaking, Hua Ru didn’t have a certain “male component” anymore, so she technically couldn’t compete with Leo for Best Actor anyway.