This was both a frustrating and a gratifying situation. The frustration came from the fact that no matter how much she said, the others seemed not to understand, making her efforts feel wasted.
The gratification came from having taken control of this assassin team, seemingly securing her authority.
Yet, inexplicably, a wave of anxiety surged within her.
She had already united the Bandit Gang and held the power to direct their actions—so why was she still unsettled?
Previously, Hua Ru had spoken at length precisely to assert control over the team, using a bit of showmanship to make everyone reliant on her.
This kind of showmanship required skill: the first type was someone with no real strength claiming to be formidable, while the second was genuinely powerful, using bravado to radiate a commanding aura.
Think about it—if you’re driving a Ferrari or a Lamborghini, but nobody knows those brands, how would anyone recognize your status?
You need explanations to prove you’re truly impressive, such as highlighting the price and rarity to establish your prestige.
Hua Ru was like that. She did have the capability, but if she stayed silent, no one would know whether she was strong or not, so she had to flaunt her intelligence.
Whether her words were right or wrong didn’t matter, as long as they appeared reasonable on the surface.
After taking control of the Bandit Gang, Hua Ru faced a difficult choice.
On one hand, she wanted to eliminate No. 10, Liu Qingzhu, who posed a potential threat to the assassins.
On the other hand, she wanted to take out No. 1, Zhou Wei, suspected of being a police officer.
From a strategic standpoint, the second option was better. No. 10, Liu Qingzhu, was heavily suspected of being an assassin.
Many believed he was, and he would likely be voted out during the third day’s vote. Especially if No. 1 was killed first, suspicion on No. 10 would only deepen.
During the second day’s vote, No. 1 Zhou Wei had just voted against No. 10, and then died that very night. This could be framed as a setup against No. 10.
Liu Qingzhu might claim someone was framing him, using that as a defense.
All of this was part of Hua Ru’s plan. As long as No. 1 Zhou Wei was eliminated, No. 10 Liu Qingzhu’s fate was sealed in the third day’s vote.
The first option, directly killing No. 10, stemmed from the uncle’s action of searching for an apron in the kitchen and his confident claim that the assassin would be identified after tonight.
Considering the brutal death of No. 2 Zhang Huiran, Hua Ru felt this uncle was far too dangerous, which sparked her idea to eliminate him without even leaving him through the daytime.
Her intuition told her to go with the first option and kill Liu Qingzhu, while her rational mind leaned toward the second option—the one with the greatest benefit.
It was a choice between two options. She should have made a decision, like a true leader, even if it risked unpredictable consequences.
But she hesitated, increasingly aware that someone’s misfortune would inevitably follow her choice.
Just like yesterday—she made a choice, and No. 15 died. If the weapon had been taken by No. 15 during the fight, the casualties might have been on her side instead.
If she chose again today, yesterday’s tragedy in No. 15’s room might repeat itself.
Along with the fruits of victory, she had to bear the consequences of failure.
On top of that, moral hesitation made her indecisive.
Hua Ru had proven her value. She was qualified to use her brain instead of charging into battle like No. 12 Xukesi or No. 7 Ragna.
To avoid being controlled by others—that is, to protect herself—she became the leader of this small assassin team, holding absolute power over life and death.
Yet, she was too timid to decide because this meant killing someone. If her confusion the first time was due to naivety, then after the brutal battle and Zhang Huiran’s death yesterday, she had deeply grasped what it truly meant to kill.
The images in one’s mind are always simpler than the reality, lacking the environmental stimuli.
So the imagined scenes can only approach reality but never match it fully. But once immersed in such an environment, the real impact far exceeds mental images.
However, after experiencing it, the pictures in the mind become much more vivid—sometimes even more terrifying than reality itself.
(Cantonese) “Well? Haven’t decided yet? Who exactly do you want to kill?” No. 12 Xukesi grew more anxious.
Yesterday, Hua Ru had been decisive when discussing these matters, unlike today’s hesitation.
Her cautious demeanor now sent a signal of wariness to everyone.
Partly, it was the reluctance to bear the consequences of a wrong decision, and partly, it was the resistance to killing.
These factors made her conflicted, unwilling to be dominated by others yet unwilling to take responsibility for giving orders.
“I don’t quite understand your thoughts either. Who do you think we should kill?” Ragna asked again, more reserved than yesterday and less assertive. Perhaps Hua Ru’s demeanor had convinced him, so he was willing to follow her lead.
“No. 10 and No. 1. My choice lies between these two,” Hua Ru answered, revealing her dilemma.
“What about you? Who do you think should be killed?” Ragna pressed a third time. After hearing all this reasoning, both he and Xukesi trusted this young girl’s abilities and had mentally entrusted their lives to her. So why now, when faced with a simple question, was she avoiding the answer and going off-topic?
“My thought is No. 1, Zhou Wei. Killing him might be more cost-effective…”
“Then kill No. 1,” Ragna interrupted before she could finish.
“But I’m worried about No. 10. He said tonight we’d know who the assassin is. I don’t think he’s bluffing, and I’m really worried…”
“Then kill No. 10,” Ragna cut her off again, his impatience evident.
Xukesi and Ragna had already sparked some murderous intent—born only after dispelling the terrifying images in their minds.
They knew they were outmatched intellectually by this girl, so they were willing to be the executioners.
They were all grasshoppers on the same line, each contributing effort just to survive. Now that they were ready to kill, this girl’s hesitation was deeply frustrating.
It was like an army ready to march, but the general suddenly wavered, unsure where to deploy his troops.
Hua Ru fell silent, still torn over the choice between the two.
“What are you so worried about? If you can’t decide, I’ll decide for you—let’s kill No. 1,” Ragna said as he stood up, seemingly unwilling to listen to more of her long explanations.
The girl still hesitated, neither denying nor agreeing with his proposal.
She knew she was being overly sentimental—wanting to kill but hoping it could be justified.
She couldn’t change the fact that killing was necessary to survive.
Even if she wasted the chance to act at night, she’d have to manipulate others into dying by day. Both were essentially the same—killing others to stay alive.
Ragna stood and left, probably to undress and search for weapons. Xukesi also got up to leave, lingering briefly at the door.
(Cantonese) “Me? I don’t overthink things. You think things through, I respect that.
Both me and that kid respect you, which is why we don’t listen to your endless chatter.
You say who to kill, we kill who—you don’t need to explain so much. Like today, we agreed to vote for No. 2, but you changed your mind and didn’t vote.
Me and that kid… were a bit annoyed, but luckily No. 2 died anyway, so we didn’t ask why. We think you had your reasons and that you can lead us to victory, so we trust you.
That kid’s a bit shy—he wouldn’t dare say these things. Me? I’ve been around society too much to be shy. We’re not as smart as you, we admit that. We respect you. Don’t hold back—just do whatever benefits us. You decide.”
With those words said, Xukesi left as well.
The feeling of being trusted was both terrifying and comforting.