Byrne's words perfectly captured the mindset of a working professional, especially one like him who had to deal directly with clients; it struck a common nerve.
Unfortunately, hindered by the rules, no one dared to engage in any further communication. After finishing his statement, Byrne walked off the stage and returned to his seat.
The remaining invitees took their turns on stage. Their statements were calculatedly vague, satisfying the requirement of being identity-related while leaking zero critical information.
Number Ten said, "I deal with needles and thread every day," which could mean a professional tailor or simply a hobbyist.
Number Fifteen said, "In my line of work, I have to stare at a screen for several hours almost every day." This could cover most office or technical jobs, or even live streamers—it was essentially a non-statement.
One by one, all eighteen invitees completed their draws and speeches. The man in the suit walked slowly to the lectern and spoke into the microphone:
"The speaking segment is over. I will give you ten minutes to think, after which we will enter the voting segment. The rules are simple: each person can vote only once, and no one may abstain. Additionally, here is a small hint: that liar told a lie in the previous segment as well, not just now."
What?
The man's words were like a stone cast into a still pond, instantly throwing everyone's minds into turmoil.
Heh, how cunning.
No wonder everyone passed the previous segment; it was a deliberate setup for this one. It seemed the liar hiding among them had already left a flaw during the Q&A, but no one had noticed it at the time.
A faint rustle of commotion filled the auditorium. Some shifted uneasily in their chairs, while others scanned their surroundings through the eye sockets of their silver masks, trying to catch a hint of abnormality in the stiff postures of others.
The man's hint raised the difficulty of this segment significantly. What was once a simple task of scrutinizing a single statement had turned into a brain-burning game of recalling the entire process and comparing details.
Byrne closed his eyes, replaying the answers given by the other seventeen people during the Q&A in his mind, cross-referencing them with their recent statements.
In the Q&A segment, as the first respondent, Lady Seven's answers had left a deep impression on Byrne. The subsequent invitees, including himself, had basically adopted her strategy: either using vague descriptions to bypass the question or using lifestyle-based reasons as a cover.
Byrne's gaze swept across everyone in the circular seating arrangement through his silver mask. Simultaneously, the other invitees were doing the exact same thing.
Byrne noticed the young man in Seat Five frequently glancing at Number Eleven, seemingly locking his suspicion on him. He remembered Eleven saying in the Q&A that he was lazy and rarely did housework, yet in the speaking segment, he claimed to own a cat that he brushed every day. Perhaps to Number Five, this was a contradiction, but Byrne didn't think so. In reality, such people definitely existed. Coincidentally, there was someone exactly like that in his design team—someone who loved keeping cats but hated doing chores.
At this moment, every invitee was searching for their own target. Who was the liar?
After a thorough scan, Byrne finally looked toward Number Six. Six was a tall, thin man who had maintained a proper sitting posture from beginning to end. Even when the gazes of others swept over him, he didn't show a hint of panic.
Byrne remembered that in the earlier Q&A, Six had mentioned having a weak constitution and being naturally sensitive to the cold; even when temperatures rose in early spring, he had to wear more layers. Hearing that at the time, combined with the fact that he was indeed dressed quite warmly, Byrne had dismissed it as a personal physical trait and didn't think much of it.
However, in the speaking segment, Six claimed that on every day off, he went to the outskirts to fish, often staying there for most of the day.
Now, combining that statement with his previous words, the description seemed off. Fishing itself wasn't an issue—it was a common hobby. But in the early spring season, placing the claim of being sensitive to the cold alongside the act of fishing outdoors changed things.
The outskirts in early spring, especially near bodies of water, had significant temperature fluctuations between day and night. Even at noon, the wind blew chilly. Either one of Six's claims was reasonable on its own, but when layered together, they became a logical loophole. The chill of a waterside location in early spring was not something heavy clothing could entirely ward off, especially for someone with a weak constitution who was naturally afraid of the cold. For such a person, sitting still for hours to fish would be a form of torture, let alone doing it for most of the day.
While Six's story had a flaw, it didn't mean Byrne's guess was definitely correct. What if Six was a die-hard angler who would fish regardless of the cold? After all, there were always people willing to endure discomfort for their hobbies; perhaps Six's obsession with fishing truly overrode his physical sensitivity to the cold.
Byrne considered this, but after scanning the room once more, he still felt Six was the most suspicious. This was the person he deemed most likely to be the liar after deep thought and repeated deliberation. If he was wrong, Byrne would just have to accept his fate. At worst, after being eliminated, he would just reset time and choose again.
Suddenly, the man in the suit, who had been standing still for a long time, clapped his hands. "Time is up. Next, we enter the voting segment."
With a wave of his hand, a small voting device appeared on the right armrest of each invitee's chair, featuring buttons numbered one through eighteen.
"Press the seat number of the person you believe to be the liar on the device. You have only one minute to vote. Once submitted, it cannot be changed. The voting begins now."
As soon as he finished, a one-minute countdown began on the devices. Without any hesitation, Byrne decisively pressed the number six. Simultaneously, the other invitees were also pressing the buttons for their respective suspects.
"Time is up. Voting is over."
After the final second ticked away, the man waved his hand, and all voting devices vanished. He then snapped his fingers. An electronic screen rose beside the lectern, flickering a few times before displaying the results.
[Number Six: 1 vote, Number Seven: 1 vote, Number Eleven: 4 votes, Number Seventeen: 6 votes, Number Four: 3 votes, Number Thirteen: 2 votes, Number Nine: 1 vote.]
"It appears Number Seventeen is the one with the most votes. Therefore, according to the rules, you are eliminated."
A spotlight suddenly hit Number Seventeen, magnifying his distress. Upon learning he was eliminated, he broke down. Ignoring the rules, he shouted at the top of his lungs:
"No! I didn't lie! Every word I said was true! I—"
The man in the suit completely ignored Seventeen's defense. He reached out toward him and made a gesture with his fingers like a gun.
"Bang!"