The doors of the guesthouse had closed, and it seemed as though everyone who was supposed to come had already arrived.
Everyone sat around the dining table, looking at the corpse under the black cloth that had its brain scooped out.
"The killer is among us. I hope he won’t struggle in vain, nor harbor any illusions of luck. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he came forward and admitted his guilt. If we catch him ourselves, the punishment won’t be simple," the police officer said, with his hands spread open, propping against the dining table. He was the only one standing in the room, looking down at the other guests, as if to assert his authority.
"Why are you so certain the killer is among us?" the middle-aged screenwriter kept questioning the police officer. "Is it possible the killer left the guesthouse after committing the murder?"
"That’s not possible," the ailing guesthouse owner shook his head. "Ever since the Black Fog enveloped the guesthouse, it has become a place one can only enter but not leave. Anyone who tries to leave after entering will be killed by something in the fog. I don’t know what it is; let’s just call it the unknown for now."
"Then let’s consider this from another angle. Why did the killer want to murder him? What was the relationship between the killer and the victim? What was the motive? And why did the killer even take the victim’s brain?" the middle-aged screenwriter stood up from his seat. When no one dared to challenge the police officer’s authority, he stood up, giving the guesthouse a different voice.
"Maybe we should check the victim’s clothes and the room he was staying in. We might find something," Han Fei, disguised as Kuangxiao, suggested. He seemed to know the middle-aged screenwriter from before, working in concert with him.
"No problem. I was thinking the same thing," the police officer said, beckoning everyone over. In front of everyone, he began to meticulously check the victim’s garments.
"The fatal injury stemmed from the head. He was likely struck with a blunt object first. Then the killer removed the back of his skull, scooping out his brain. This method of death is indeed unique. The killer could be a psychopath who enjoys collecting human organs."
"It can’t be an organ collector," the middle-aged screenwriter interrupted. "If he was a psychopath who liked to collect brains, he definitely wouldn’t damage the head, as that would ruin his trophy."
"You sound quite knowledgeable, don’t you?" the police officer said, his tone devoid of dissatisfaction, but his smile made people uncomfortable.
"The victim was wearing a Paradise amusement park uniform. The killer might have done it out of revenge against Paradise, so they brutally killed him," the screenwriter challenged the police officer’s authority. He moved next to the dining table to "assist" the police officer in searching the body.
This small act made the atmosphere in the room even more tense, but the screenwriter didn’t seem to care. It appeared he was doing this intentionally, so as not to let the police officer take control of the situation.
After searching for a while, the police officer and the screenwriter found a Paradise work ID in the victim’s pocket, with a faceless image on it. The body was blurry, the overall outline not resembling the victim, but rather looking more like someone else.
"This is not the victim’s ID."
"Why would someone else’s ID appear in his pocket? Could the killer have put it there?"
Trying not to disturb the scene too much, the police officer and the screenwriter also discovered half of a Paradise ticket, a sealed will, a bloodstained lollipop, and a broken knife on the body.
"A will? Did he have a premonition of his own death?" the police officer opened the will and began to read, "If I am dead before the night falls, please don’t pursue this any further. Assume it was suicide. Do not suspect each other, only then more of you may survive. You have already obtained what you desired, don’t touch what you shouldn’t, otherwise you will be next."
"The brain was scooped out, yet it’s said to be suicide. This was most likely left by the killer."
"Not necessarily," the screenwriter mused, not touching the body again.
The officer didn’t think much of it, he unbuttoned the deceased’s outer clothing and was surprised to find a poker card hidden in the victim’s sleeve, and it was exactly the Joker Card.
"A poker card? Magician?" He glanced at the Magician and continued to search.
There were no signs of struggle before the victim’s death, his hands were intact, there were no human tissue fragments under his nails, and there were no other scrapes or minor wounds on his body. It appeared as if the crime was committed by an acquaintance, and he was attacked without any guard up.
"What’s this?" Joker pointed at the deceased’s neck, where there was a strange pendant. Two blood-red flowers were entwined, rooted together in a gravestone.
"Just a pendant." The officer casually answered and then removed the deceased’s outerwear, wanting to see the victim’s back.
As the body was being turned over, a sound came from the skull of the deceased. Everyone looked towards the hollowed-out back of the head, as a blood-soaked piece of paper rolled out, touching a black box beside the corpse.
"Don’t touch anything!" The officer said sternly, preventing others from intervening. He carefully unfolded the paper ball, which contained words cut out from newspapers and documents and deliberately pieced together.
"I’ve built a hotel within my own brain, housing ten guests, including thieves, robbers, the ambitious, as well as children, relatives, and the person I wish to become."
"Each of them has a different Personality, and I have been observing them. Until one day, the despair in my Brain Sea flooded all my memories, and I fell into deep waters, suffocating at every moment."
"I was forced to reach out to them, but no one was willing to save me, all they saw was themselves."
"I died within my own Brain Sea, my Soul Scattering into fragments, even my memories were shattered."
"The sea of despair was covered with an unscatterable black fog. The viscous seawater was about to overflow the hotel, and a new me would be born among the ten guests."
"But I am only one, and there are ten guests."
"All souls are equal, who becomes me is for you to choose."
"Cast the name of your choice into the Black Box, the guest with the fewest votes will become part of the black fog."
After reading the words on the Blood Paper, Han Fei felt a sense of foreboding.
The killer’s general message was that only one of the ten people can survive, but he is not letting everyone pick the person with the most votes, instead, he’s eliminating those without votes round after round!
Everyone would watch as the people around them die, until the end.
"I think I understand what the deceased’s Sealed Will is trying to convey. As long as we ten people choose each other, we can all survive." The woman was very gentle and kind-hearted.
"That’s true," the officer said firmly, "but don’t forget, the killer is among us! He will definitely not do that, and if we ten people choose each other, the person paired with the killer is bound to die!"
"So now the key issue is to find the killer first," the screenwriter said with a furrowed brow. He always felt this game was not that simple.