Hua Ru was deeply uneasy—not because the process of the crime had been exposed, but because of the uncertainty looming over her.
She had never killed anyone before, at least never with her own hands.
Ever since arriving in the Dark World, the last race game had shattered her worldview.
Although she hadn’t personally dealt the fatal blows, two people had died because she won—and that was an unchangeable fact.
This time, she had even become an accomplice, killing a living person, which kept her in a constant state of tension and fear.
Even the smallest worry was magnified by these negative emotions, making her increasingly anxious about what was to come.
She constantly felt like she was about to be exposed; about to become the target of everyone’s blame; about to pay the price for “murder.”
Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
From behind came a simple, honest voice: “Sorry!”
Unconsciously, Hua Ru had slowed her pace, causing the No. 8 cook behind her to bump into her shoulder.
The man seemed somewhat distracted—no, rather, everyone was secretly lost in thought; almost every person appeared absent-minded.
At the stairwell, the lead, No. 3 Qian Min, still showed no sign of stopping.
Hua Ru glanced down at the floor—the white powder was gone!
After killing No. 15, Hua Ru was one hundred percent sure that the flour on the floor was still there when she returned to her room.
That meant someone had come here after six in the morning to clean up the flour. Or perhaps… it wasn’t flour they were cleaning up at all.
Maybe the person accidentally stepped on the flour and, realizing its purpose, cleaned it away to avoid raising suspicion.
No. 3 Qian Min didn’t stop at this spot, indicating he wasn’t the one who spread the flour; otherwise, he would have deliberately brought it up.
Hua Ru quietly scanned the group.
Everyone looked burdened by their thoughts; no one paid special attention to the spot where the flour had been scattered.
“Wait.” Standing at the stairwell on the first floor, just ahead was the long table in the hall. No. 3 stopped everyone’s steps and turned around, loudly asking those behind him, “Has anyone come to the hall just now? Before opening No. 15’s room door, did anyone come to the hall?”
“Must be the killer, right? Weren’t we not allowed to come out before six?” No. 1 Zhou Wei answered the question.
At that moment, Hua Ru suddenly caught the key phrase: just now, Zhou Wei said, “weren’t we not allowed to come out before six?”
“Not allowed to come out?”
Those four words were very interesting. Here, “not allowed to come out” had two possible meanings: first, that something prevented them from coming out; second, that they simply didn’t want to come out.
“You couldn’t come out either? Last night I thought the door to my room was broken; I tried for a long time but couldn’t open it,” No. 10 Uncle suddenly jumped in on No. 1’s topic.
As soon as he spoke, No. 3 Qian Min immediately shot him a sharp look.
Liu Qingzhu’s words were no small matter—they inadvertently revealed the restrictions on civilians and police, as if by accident.
If Uncle wasn’t lying, then Hua Ru’s suspicion was confirmed: except for the killer, no one else could leave their room.
This must be a hidden condition designed so the game could proceed normally.
No. 12 Xu Kesi glanced at Hua Ru knowingly; only now did he fully respect this girl.
But our shy, reserved Lady Hua Ru felt no joy at having her suspicion confirmed.
Instead of focusing on No. 12’s glance, she was already thinking two steps ahead.
Why did No. 10 Liu Qingzhu say something like that?
Could it be a trap? Was the real reason that the door could open, and he was pretending it couldn’t?
No… no, the reactions around were too normal; everyone more or less knew about this.
If it were true, why say it out loud? Was he a liability?
Had she overestimated him? Was he babbling nonsense from the start?
“I can’t get out either. I wanted to secretly find out who the killer is, but that lock won’t open,” Ragnar spoke up, backing No. 10. His confidence must have come from Hua Ru.
But Hua Ru silently wiped cold sweat from her brow—No. 7’s method was far too dangerous.
To gain trust, he liked taking risks.
The killers didn’t know what would happen to the door after midnight, because as a killer, he could always open his own door at will during the game.
So No. 7’s lies were risky, though certainly a good way to reduce suspicion.
No. 10 Uncle lit another cigarette but said nothing further.
Seeing this, No. 3 Qian Min repeated the question: “Listen carefully. After six in the morning, before opening No. 15’s door, did anyone come to the hall?”
No one answered.
He pointed at No. 10’s chair and said, “Before going back to the rooms last night, No. 1 and I straightened all the chairs. No. 1, you remember, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. But No. 10’s chair…” Zhou Wei admitted this, looking at the chair that was slightly pulled inward, out of place compared to the others.
“No. 10, are you going to explain why your chair isn’t straightened? Everyone heard just now—no one admits to coming to the hall. So why is your chair so… out of line?” No. 3 questioned.
Naturally, this was Hua Ru’s doing.
Before going back to her room last night, she had casually tampered with No. 10’s chair. It was a trivial matter, and she knew it wouldn’t threaten No. 10 for now.
She did it simply to stir trouble—to deliberately provoke conflict among the players.
There is an old saying: “Three men make a tiger.” If No. 10 was innocent, as long as everyone thought he was guilty, then he was guilty. Sometimes the “truth” isn’t what really happened; sometimes what people believe is the “truth.”
In this Dark World murder game, one person was voted out each day.
So how do you avoid being voted out? Simple: get someone else voted out first.
At this moment, many didn’t care about the chair’s real story.
What mattered was that No. 10 looked suspicious—an easy target.
Especially No. 2 Zhang Huiran. Her position was very awkward. Labeled a “liar” on the first day, her identity had lingered between police and killer. Since she hadn’t been killed on the first day, her suspicion as a killer grew even higher.
No. 10 was the culprit who caused all this, so seeing him in trouble made her very happy.
She immediately jumped out to support No. 3.
“Exactly. Everyone else’s chairs are neat, but why is yours crooked? Were you sitting there to rest after killing someone last night?”
Compared to No. 3’s subtlety, No. 2 Zhang Huiran’s words were brutally direct, slapping the killer label on him.
No. 10 Liu Qingzhu said nothing in response.
Still with a cigarette in his mouth, he slowly sat down in No. 1’s seat, crossed his legs, and calmly replied, “Look, sitting in someone else’s chair is no problem at all. No. 2, you’re being too sloppy with this framing.”