The great bronze clock in the center of Verne Town struck ten, each heavy chime echoing through the still streets.
Clang… Clang… Clang…
On cue, a prison guard turned a key and swung open the heavy wooden door of a confessional room.
---
The first to be released that night was Victor.
The moment the door cracked open, a vile stench rolled out—a choking blend of blood and something fouler, something that clung to the nose and refused to let go. A wave of reddish liquid mixed with water spread across the threshold.
Victor's limp body collapsed out of the room, hitting the floor like a discarded rag doll. His lips trembled. His eyes were wide and glassy, unfocused. His skin was as pale as bleached paper, and his whole frame curled inward, trying to make itself small.
He mumbled the same words over and over, voice barely more than a breath:
"It's not me… it's not me…"
The guard standing over him wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Your most terrifying memory really is disgusting… It's going to take hours to clean that mess up."
With one sharp tug, he hauled Victor upright.
"Villager Victor, have you reflected on your mistakes?"
Victor bobbed his head rapidly, unable to form words. His throat worked, but no sound came out—fear had stolen his voice.
The guard gave a satisfied nod.
"You can leave."
Victor didn't need to be told twice. He staggered forward, half-running, half-crawling away from the confessional as though a beast still lurked inside, waiting to drag him back.
---
The guard wiped his hands with a look of distaste and moved toward another door—Lucas' door.
---
He unlocked it slowly, muttering under his breath.
"Two rooms to clean in one night… What a workload."
But the moment the door swung open, his words died.
Instead of filth, blood, or the stink of fear, a faint grassy aroma drifted into his nose. The air inside was fresh, almost pleasant. The room looked exactly as it had when Lucas had entered earlier—untouched, ordinary. The only difference was a strange after-scent, as though it carried the residue of some other place entirely.
Lucas sat calmly at the table. Before him rested a small toy box. Perched on top was a spring-loaded clown figure that wobbled gently each time Lucas tapped it with a finger.
Boing… boing… boing…
Hearing the door, Lucas turned. His gaze met the prison guard's stunned expression.
"Finished…" he said simply, standing up. His face showed a trace of weariness. "It's been… a really difficult time."
The guard stared, unsure whether to suspect the room or the man inside it. Something didn't add up.
---
He cleared his throat and asked the standard question, though it sounded more hesitant than usual.
"Villager Jason… have you reflected on your mistakes?"
Lucas nodded with what seemed like genuine sincerity.
"I've deeply reflected."
Even as he said it, a flicker of unease passed through his eyes. The hours he'd just endured left a faint shadow over his expression.
"If it happens again… I might collapse."
The guard's gaze flicked from Lucas' face to the toy clown on the table. When Lucas stepped out, the clown began to fade, dissolving into nothing.
Somewhere in the viewing stands, a player scoffed.
"Collapse? His mental value didn't drop below 0.001! He's bluffing!"
Another chimed in:
"Seriously—did anyone watch Lucas' live feed? His brain has to be wired differently."
"The one on the verge of collapse is the prison guard! They promise horror and trauma, and Lucas gives them… sweet little memories?!"
"And what was with that clown toy at the end?"
"No idea. Can toys even be scary?"
---
The discussion raged on among players, but Lucas paid it no mind as he returned to his assigned quarters.
The room next to his was empty—completely silent.
He glanced at the door and noticed faint black specks dotting the tiles outside. His brow furrowed.
"Because the black spots on the tiles weren't cleaned… were they taken away?"
His hand slipped inside his coat and drew out a kitchen knife, tucking it at his side. The cool metal lent him a small measure of comfort.
"The punishments here… they're harsher than the punishment for murder."
---
Midnight came. Across every contestant's vision, the system's cold text appeared.
---
[System prompt: The first day of the qualifying competition is over. The elimination list of players is as follows. Please continue to work hard for the remaining players.]
[Elimination List:]
[Contestant Xiong San — Overall Score: B-]
[Contestant Guan Wanwan — Overall Score: B]
[Contestant Mu Liao — Overall Score: AF]
[Current remaining players in the finals: 16/19]
---
Lucas recognized two of the names.
"Guan Wanwan and Mu Liao… I think they were assigned to the food factory."
The rest of the night passed quietly. Lucas lay on his bed, the kitchen knife tucked under his pillow, and let sleep take him.
---
The Next Morning
The bells in the town tower marked seven o'clock exactly. Lucas' eyes opened at the first chime.
He made his bed with practiced efficiency and stepped outside. The room next to his was still empty. His frown deepened.
Crossing into the small courtyard, he slowed, then took two steps back. Kneeling at the doorway, he studied the row of tiles in the morning light.
Against the sun's glare, the black specks from the night before came into sharp focus.
---
It hadn't been an illusion.
He rubbed the surface with his fingertips. The specks didn't smear or fade. They were etched in, as if carved into the tile itself.
His mind ticked over the possibilities.
"If someone had come or gone, I would've heard them… So what left these marks?"
His gaze drifted to the house on his right—the one whose occupants had been absent all night after failing to clean similar marks from their tiles.
Then he looked left.
---
A woman in a black T-shirt stepped out of the house next door. Her hair was cropped short, framing her face neatly. She noticed his eyes on her and tilted her head, meeting his gaze directly.
Her lips curled upward into a smile. Slowly, it widened—not warm, not friendly. It bent into something sharper, dripping with amusement… and gloating.
Without a word, she mouthed something at him.
The shape of her lips was clear.
KREJ…
---
[Modeling…]
[Based on analysis…]
[Player Xiaoxiao: Advanced Danger]
---
Lucas rose to his full height and let out a slow sigh.
"Wouldn't it be nice if everyone could just stay calm and survive the next nine days…"
His voice dropped to a murmur, his eyes narrowing.
"I told you before… everyone else is not normal."
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