Dreamer

"What a terrifying face…"

Lawyer.Liu chimed in from the side.

Jack Li remained seated the entire time—he neither got up nor went in search of any clues. Something still felt off. Equally, psychological counselor Taylor stayed seated.

"What are you thinking about?" Taylor asked nonchalantly, covering his mouth and nose.

"Me?" Jack Li paused in surprise. "What, are you about to psychoanalyze me?"

"Not exactly. Although someone as sharp as you might have your share of psychological quirks, this isn't the time or place for therapy. I'm simply curious—what's on your mind?"

After a moment of contemplation, Jack Li replied, "I'm pondering the cause."

"The cause?"

Ignoring Taylor's inquiry, Jack Li called out to Dr.Lee, "Doctor, how long can a person typically survive if shot in the heart?"

Dr.Lee turned and, after a brief moment of thought, answered, "If I recall correctly, when the heart is hit, a person loses consciousness within seconds. However, since 'death' in medical terms refers to 'brain death,' the brain can continue functioning for several minutes even after unconsciousness sets in."

Jack Li nodded. "That goat-headed man was screaming for several minutes—this suggests his body must be far more resilient than that of an ordinary human, right?"

"Yes," Dr.Lee confirmed. "Even after being shot in the heart, he didn't fully lose consciousness for several minutes."

At these words, everyone fell silent. It was precisely this swindler's clear-headedness that had allowed all nine of them to survive.

"So, what do you think is the reason?" Jack Li extended his index finger and thumb into the shape of a gun, pressing them against his temple. "Most people, when choosing to commit suicide, would opt for this."

He then moved his hand upward, aiming toward his jaw. "Or perhaps like this."

Retracting his hand, he pointed at his heart. "No matter what…suicides always choose a method that minimizes their pain. But why would he aim at his heart?"

Barrett toyed with the goat-head mask in his hand, then flipped through the man's head as he remarked, "Maybe this soft brain is even tougher—perhaps one shot can't kill him."

"Since he's coughing up blood, that proves his body structure is similar to ours," Officer Liu interjected. "No matter how strong he is, a shot fired at the head from this distance would inevitably be fatal."

Jack Li nodded again. "If that's the case, then I can only think of one explanation." He pointed at the mask in Barrett's hand. "The goat-headed man must have aimed at his heart to protect something. The 'game' is probably not over yet."

Barrett blinked. "Are you saying… he was afraid of damaging his mask?"

"Exactly."

At Jack Li's command, Barrett flipped the sheepskin mask over, revealing its rough inner lining to everyone. A putrid, sour stench emanated from within.

Just as Jack Li had suspected, dark ink had been scrawled on the inside of the mask with a black pen. Although some parts were stained with blood, Barrett paid it no mind—he grabbed his T-shirt to wipe it off until the writing became legible.

Jack Li furrowed his brow. It was clearly a clue for the next game…

The oppressive shadow of death that loomed over them refused to dissipate. They were already dead—must they die again?

"Hey, swindler, what does this mean?" Barrett demanded.

"How should I know?" Jack Li snorted coldly. "There are nine of us here—must I be the one to do all the thinking?"

Lawyer Zhang Chenze slowly sank into his chair and said, "As much as I hate to admit it, your train of thought mirrors that of the 'organizer.' If you have any ideas, you might as well share them."

"I…" Jack Li began, but before he could continue, the walls around them suddenly began to change.

To everyone's astonishment, holes began appearing out of thin air. The cement walls, once rigid, now seemed to flow like a shifting, pliable substance. Moments later, the holes arranged themselves neatly in rows along the walls as if they had always been there.

At the same moment, the sound of chains being pulled echoed from all directions.

"What's going on?" Panic erupted among the group.

"Look at the ceiling!" someone cried out.

They all looked up and saw that even the ceiling was pockmarked with countless holes.

Finally, Jack Li rose, snatched the sheepskin mask from Barrett's hand, and examined the final line inscribed on it:

"See you after the rain."

"After the rain…?"

Barrett crept to the wall and, peering into one of the holes, was immediately startled—he recoiled several steps.

"Oh my God!" he yelled, scrambling to find a hiding place, only to realize there was nowhere to hide.

"What's wrong? What's inside?" Emma asked, her voice trembling with fear.

Everyone knew Barrett was usually fearless; for him to be so frightened meant something truly formidable was inside.

"D*mn it all…!" Barrett shouted, "It's harpoons! The holes are filled with harpoons that are 'recoiling'!"

"What do you mean by 'recoiling'?" Dr.Lee asked, puzzled.

"They must be drawn," Jack Li explained. "Ever since a moment ago, the sound of chains has been echoing from all sides. Now these harpoons are drawn back and could be fired at any moment."

"Hey, swindler, you need to come up with a solution fast!" Barrett rushed over to Jack Li, exclaiming, "If they all fire from every direction at once, where can we possibly hide?"

Jack Li pondered for a moment; surviving himself wouldn't be difficult—after all, there were already two corpses here. The harpoons didn't have unlimited penetrating power; if they could pile the two corpses in a corner and hide behind them, even if injured, their chances of survival would be relatively high.

"This time, I doubt we can save everyone. I need to save myself, so I'm not coming to your rescue," Jack Li murmured softly.

"You…" Barrett began, but faltered, then turned to Officer Liu and Dr.Lee for help—though the two looked even more at a loss.

Jack Li glanced again at the cryptic clues on the sheepskin mask. Had he misunderstood?

Only when one person remains will this 'game' truly end. If everyone were to survive, this killing game would never cease. After all, this room was extraordinarily bizarre—the walls could change at any moment. It defied all scientific explanation, almost as if it were magic. Yet if the organizer were some powerful magician, why would he torment these nine dead souls? Could this be some twisted game orchestrated by an agency that governs ghosts?

As Jack Li was lost in thought, Taylor, staring at the mask in his hand, spoke up, "It says here… a method to help us survive. It instructs: 'Turn one hundred times in the direction of your hometown.'"

The group gradually calmed and began to ponder this clue.

"Could it mean that we must face our hometown's direction and spin?" Candy asked.

"That can't be right," Barrett shook his head. "In this room, how on earth can we determine the direction of our hometown? Besides, spinning a hundred times would do nothing but make you dizzy."

"Forget it! I'll give it a try!" Candy declared, arbitrarily choosing a direction and beginning to spin.

Jack Li, after a brief moment of thought, realized it couldn't be that simple. If the rule "rules are absolute" still applied to this second game, then what was written on the mask must be the key. But how to decipher it? And when would the harpoons fire?

"The clock never stops…"

Could it be that it would be exactly at 1:15?

Jack Li glanced at the clock on the table—it was already 1:05. If 1:15 marked the moment the harpoons would launch, they had less than ten minutes left.

"Turn one hundred times in the direction of your hometown…"

The nine people in the room all hailed from different regions, and one hundred rotations was no small feat. If they chose the wrong direction, they would waste these precious ten minutes. But in this room, aside from themselves, what could possibly be turned?

Jack Li's gaze fell upon the clock at the center of the table. He leaned forward, reached out, and gently stroked it, only to find it was firmly fixed to the tabletop, immovable.