The massive holographic map flickered like a dying flame… then vanished entirely, as if it had never existed. A second later, every building and shop sign around us rotated sharply, glowing arrows pointing toward a single direction. A countdown appeared on the sign- 30 minutes remaining.
Great. A time limit. Because being kidnapped into a death game wasn't stressful enough.
I forced my mind to calm down and focused on what the sky-voice had said earlier.
The first rule: Violence between participants is prohibited inside the game arena.
Which meant only one thing.
Outside the game? Violence was allowed. Maybe even expected.
People are predictable—they swallow their rage when forced, then explode when the leash is off. Whoever built this world understood human psychology too well. Once each game ends, frustrated participants are going to take their anger out on each other. Hard.
I can fight. I can defend myself.
But if a group attacks me… yeah, even I know my limits.
I need someone strong. Someone who can fight.
Someone I can manipulate into joining me.
Survival first. Morality later.
My eyes scanned the crowd. Fear twisted some faces, others were empty like they'd already given up. A few prayed, trembling so hard their words were just vibrations.
Then—
I saw him.
Back straight. Steps precise.
Body language controlled.
Eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp discipline.
Everything about him screamed trained.
But what really caught my attention was his confusion.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Not despair.
He looked at crying people the way a scientist looks at an equation: trying to understand, but the answer refusing to show itself.
A woman bumped into him.
He steadied her instantly—efficient, gentle, practiced.
She burst into tears, apologizing over and over.
He stared at her face… calm, patient… but that subtle confusion stayed.
Like he could feel her emotion, but couldn't read it.
Then it clicked in my brain.
Alexithymia.
Or something close to it.
Mild alexithymia
He can feel emotions, but can't interpret them well.
Meaning…
He'll be easier to control.
But I can't rush.
First I observe.
He will be my first piece on this gameboard.
We finally reached the stadium hall—a vast field with a single room placed at the center like an ominous monument. A long table stood beside it, arranged neatly with bracelet-like devices.
The sky-voice echoed again:
"Hello participants. This is your first game: the Room of Lies or Truth.
Two players will enter the room at a time. Each will receive a card—either a lie card or a truth card.
You will each ask one question.
Questions may be anything except those related to the game or your card.
You must determine whether the other is lying or telling the truth.
If both guess correctly, both survive.
If both guess wrong, both die.
If one guesses right and the other wrong, the correct one survives.
Eliminating a player gives you 100 coins.
If you are eliminated later, your killer receives your coins plus an extra 100.
Whoever eliminates the most players gets a bonus.
The game ends when half of the people get eliminated.
Wear the bracelet. It will display your order."
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
People rushed toward the table.
I picked up a bracelet, locked it onto my wrist—
NUMBER 51.
The door of the room creaked open.
The first two participants entered.
One minute passed.
Only one returned… trembling, pale, empty-handed.
No card.
Meaning…
Each round gives new cards.
_______________
I walked toward the person who had caught my eye earlier—my first piece.
"Hi," I said, keeping my voice calm and smooth. "I'm Alice. What's your name?"
He looked at me like: why are you talking to me?
But he answered anyway.
"Kyle."
Good. He talks.
"What's your order number?" I asked.
"Sixty-one."
I nodded slowly. Time to test the theory I had about him.
"You look like someone who understands fighting and logics," I said, watching his micro-reactions. "But you don't understand emotions well… am I right?"
His eyes widened in shock.
"H—how did you know that?"
I shrugged lightly. "I notice things."
Then I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
"I can help you survive this game."
Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Why would you help me?"
I gave him a soft, innocent smile. "Because you seem kind. You helped people earlier. I want you to survive."
A lie.
I didn't care if he was kind or cruel.
I cared that he was useful.
Kyle didn't fully trust me—smart boy—but after a moment, he said:
"...okay."
Good. First hook placed.
---
Alice's Turn — Inside the Room
My bracelet glowed.
Number 51 → Proceed to the room.
I walked inside. The door shut behind me automatically.
A machine stood in the center with a glowing screen:
[Please take your card]
I stepped forward. A card slid out.
Lie card.
Excellent.
My opponent took his card too. His face relaxed—not much, just a tiny exhale.
Subtle… but enough.
Truth card.
The machine's voice echoed:
[You have 30 seconds to answer each question.]
My opponent went first.
"D-do you have any siblings?"
The countdown started:
30… 29… 28…
I softened my expression, let nostalgia touch my eyes.
"Yes," I said sweetly. "I have an older brother. He's annoying but… he's my family."
A perfect lie wrapped in warmth.
He believed it instantly.
Now my turn.
"What's your biggest regret in your life?" I asked.
His face cracked.
Shock. Panic.
Fear.
He expected something basic.
He wasn't ready for something that stabbed straight into his chest.
The countdown was still running.
He broke.
"I—I left my mom that day…" he whispered.
Then he started sobbing.
"B-because of me she died…"
It was the kind of truth that bleeds from the soul.
The machine spoke:
[Place your hands on the scanner and state your opponent's card.]
I placed my hand.
"Truth card."
Green light.
Correct.
He placed his hand next, looked at me like he trusted me.
"Truth card," he said.
The screen flashed red.
A sharp laser shot out and hit him in the forehead.
Instant death.
No scream.
No blood.
Just silence.
[Alice acquired 100 coins.]
The door opened.
I walked out as if nothing had happened.
---
Kyle looked at me—relieved.
I walked up to him.
"Listen," I said quietly. "The rule is simple. You can ask anything except about the card or the game. So ask an obvious question."
He frowned in confusion.
"Obvious?"
"Yes," I said. "Something that is impossible to twist. Like: 'Are you a girl?' or 'Are you five years old?' Whatever they answer, you'll know instantly if it's a lie or truth. You don't need to read emotions."
He blinked.
Realization hitting him late.
"And remember," I continued, "the room only gives you one minute. Thirty seconds for their question, thirty for yours. Under pressure, most people's brains stop working completely."
Kyle nodded slowly.
"Why didn't I think of that…"
"Because fear blocks logic," I said simply.
His bracelet glowed.
Number 61 → Proceed to the room.
---
Kyle stepped inside.
He got a truth card.
His opponent asked, "What are you most scared of?"
Kyle replied, "Emotions."
The opponent smirked like he found the lie.
He must've thought: No one is scared of emotions.
Fool.
Then Kyle asked:
"Are you five years old?"
The opponent turned pale.
"Y—yes…"
Kyle already knew.
Lie.
He answered correctly.
Opponent died.
___
The moment Kyle stepped out of the Truth–Lie Room alive, he looked… different.
Still shaking, but his eyes kept drifting toward Alice like she was the only steady thing in the world.
Alice watched him for three silent seconds, then tilted her head slightly—calculating, choosing her moment.
Kyle swallowed hard, looking like a lost child in a nightmare.
Alice stepped closer—not enough to look comforting, just enough to invade his panic and replace it with something else.
Calm.
Control.
Safety.
"You did well," she said softly, eyes still sharp. "Your instinct can be useful… if guided properly."
Kyle's breath hitched.
He didn't realize it, but she had just placed a hook in his mind.
Alice continued, voice like cool water over fire,
"This place will become chaos. People will group up. Hide. Attack. Half the people must die for this round to end."
She turned slightly, pretending to look through the crowd. "Someone like you will get targeted quickly."
Kyle tensed—fear returning.
And then she added, almost casually,
"Unless you stay close to someone who understands how this world works."
Kyle blinked, stunned, heart thudding.
Alice didn't look at him.
She didn't need to.
The silence stretched.
…and Kyle broke first.
"A–Alice?" His voice cracked. "C-Can I… follow you?"
That was exactly what she wanted.
She turned to him slowly—expression unreadable, like a queen deciding the fate of a petitioner kneeling at her throne.
"You may," she said.
Kyle exhaled shakily, relief flooding him.
"But," Alice added, voice low and dangerous,
"on one condition."
Kyle straightened instinctively, as if her words were orders from a higher power.
"You will obey every command I give you. No hesitation. No questions."
Kyle's pulse jumped, but he didn't look away.
"I… I agree."
Alice studied him for a moment—then nodded.
"Good. Then follow me."
She didn't take his hand.
She didn't guide him physically.
She just started walking—
and Kyle followed instantly, like her shadow.
Like she was the only gravity left in his collapsing world.
Which, in a way…
she was.
Alice allowed herself a tiny smile.
Checkmate.