The red light made the air in the windowless room feel heavier than it was. It coated the round metal table, stained the concrete walls, and turned the bright orange of Ren's track jacket into something the color of dried rust.
88:42.
Nobody had spoken for a full minute. The only sound was the low, electrical hum of the ceiling panels and the ragged, wet intake of Mori Takashi's breath.
Mori was sitting to Kai's left. He was sweating through the collar of a charcoal business suit that had probably cost three hundred thousand yen in the old world. Out here, it was just a heavy fabric trap holding in the sharp, stale stench of stress sweat.
"We need a system," Mori said.
His voice cracked on the last syllable. He cleared his throat, gripping the edges of his face-down card so hard the stiff cardboard began to bend.
"I'm a senior director at Kanto Logistics. I manage fifty people. We need to establish a hierarchy to process this situation logically." He looked around the table, his eyes darting from face to face, waiting for someone to take notes. "If we all show our cards—"
"Rule two," Saya said. Saya kept her eyes fixed on the metal table. "Do not show anyone."
"We can override the rules if we coordinate!" Mori leaned forward, his chair screeching against the concrete. "If we all flip them on the count of three, nobody is disadvantaged. We find the Dealer, we vote them out. It's simple math."
"If you break a rule, the room kills you," Saya said. "Flip your card if you want. Don't ask us to."
Mori opened his mouth, closed it, and looked down at his bent card.
Kai watched the exchange without moving his head. He cataloged the sweat on Mori's collar, the stiffness in Saya's shoulders, the angle of Ren's wrists.
Mori was a noise variable. Risk: High. Not from malice. From the sheer, uncoordinated volume of his panic leaking into the sealed space.
Saya was a closed circuit. She kept her hands flat against her thighs, minimizing her footprint in the space. She was sitting exactly the way he was.
Ren was leaning forward, his elbows on the metal table. His card lay flat between his forearms, fully visible but out of reach.
"We have eighteen minutes before the first vote," Ren said. He pitched his voice low. "Nobody has to die right now. Let's just talk. Find a baseline."
"Talk about what?" Mori snapped. He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. "One of you is trying to kill us. You think they're going to admit it over small talk?"
Ren kept his hands flat on the table. "There has to be a tell. The game is called 'Last Word.' The rule says find the Dealer. It doesn't say guess."
Kai shifted his eyes to the fifth chair.
The girl. Yuna.
She sat directly across from Kai. She was young, maybe early twenties, wearing a loose grey sweater that swallowed her frame. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight, severe knot.
She ignored Mori's yelling and Ren's diplomacy. She hadn't even checked the ticking timer or the locked steel doors.
Her eyes were locked on the bare metal in the center of the table, staring at absolutely nothing.
Kai looked closer.
Her hands were resting on her knees. Her knuckles were bone-white. The fabric of her jeans was twisting slightly under her grip.
Mori was looking everywhere, scanning for teeth.
This girl wasn't looking for teeth. She was looking at the rectangular piece of cardboard pressed under her left palm as if the teeth were inside it.
Kai filed the anomaly. First-time Shadow. Dealer card.
Kai kept his mouth shut. Thirteen minutes until the vote.
He let the silence stretch back out.
78:14.
Ten minutes of sitting in the red light.
Mori started pacing behind his chair.
"It's you," Mori said, pointing a trembling finger at Ren. "You're too calm. You're trying to act like the mediator to get us to lower our guard."
Ren looked up at him. "I have a '1' on my card," Ren said. "I'm not the Dealer."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to sit down," Saya said. She finally raised her eyes, locking onto Mori without blinking. "You're burning oxygen. We have to vote someone out in eight minutes. Keep talking, and I'm voting for the headache."
Mori stopped pacing. He backed away from Saya, his chest heaving. He practically fell back into his metal chair, pulling at his ruined collar.
72:00.
The air in the room felt thick, exhausted. Kai kept his breathing measured. He watched the digital clock on his Signal device click down the seconds.
70:05.
70:03.
70:01.
Every Signal on the table vibrated simultaneously. A hard, violent buzz that rattled against the metal.
The screens changed. The timer shrunk to the top right corner. In the center, a grid of five unmarked boxes appeared, labeled SEAT 1 through SEAT 5.
VOTING PHASE INITIATED. 60 SECONDS TO SELECT.
Mori let out a strangled noise. "Wait. Wait, we don't know yet! We need more time!"
55 SECONDS.
Kai looked at the grid. Seat 4 was Mori. Seat 5 was Yuna.
He bypassed Yuna's box.
Round one was for gathering data. He needed to see the execution mechanism first. He needed to see what the room did to the loser.
Kai tapped SEAT 4.
Across the table, Saya tapped her screen.
Ren stared at his screen, his jaw tight. He held his finger above the glass for three seconds before he finally tapped.
VOTING CLOSED.
The grid on their screens dissolved. Text loaded in its place.
SEAT 4: 4 VOTES.SEAT 1: 1 VOTE.
Mori had voted for Kai.
Mori looked down at his screen. The color completely drained from his face, leaving his skin the shade of wet ash.
"No," Mori whispered. He looked up, his eyes wide and unblinking. "No, you're wrong! I'm a two! Look!"
He snatched his card off the table and threw it face-up.
A black '2'.
"I told you!" Mori screamed, scrambling backward out of his chair, hitting the concrete wall. "I'm not the Dealer! You killed me! You—"
A sharp, deafening crack of displaced air snapped through the room.
The silver light punched straight down from the red panels directly above Mori, a solid column of blinding, soundless energy.
It hit him mid-sentence.
The room instantly smelled like scorched fabric and hot metal.
No scream. Not a single drop of blood.
The silver light vanished as fast as it had appeared.
Mori's expensive charcoal suit collapsed onto the floor in a heap of empty fabric. The silver tie clip he had been tearing at pinged against the concrete, skidding under the metal table.
Kai kept his eyes open, his posture utterly unchanged.
The hum of the ceiling panels was the only sound left in the room.
Ren was staring at the empty clothes, the tendons in his forearms rigid.
Saya had her eyes closed, taking one deep, measured breath through her nose.
Kai looked at Yuna.
She didn't flinch when the laser struck, or jump at the crack of displaced air.
She had flinched ten seconds earlier. Right when the votes locked in.
Kai looked down at the black '2' resting face-up on the metal table where Mori had thrown it.
Not the Dealer.
Kai didn't look at the clothes. He kept his eyes on the card.
The timer dropped to 69:58.