So, the first game was clearly an opportunity for both sides with old grudges to test and communicate, which is why there were no time restrictions for each round. As can be seen now, most of the people at the tables are engaged in fierce verbal confrontations, discussing not only the additional rules for exchanging cards but also new enmities and old hatreds.
Shiller felt his thinking slow due to the drugs, with all sounds gradually fading away. Through the blur, he heard Oliver say,
"You want me to think that everything I'm doing now is meaningless, but you can't shake me, never."
"Then why did you come back here?" The woman's tone was laden with sarcasm, "Abandoning your so-called career, returning here like a coward and deserter, making such foolish choices. Do you think you can defeat me here?"
"I'm not here just to defeat you," Oliver said, staring intently at the woman, "I will defeat you and your kind everywhere, at any time."
"You know that's impossible, no one can do that," the woman said with a tone full of scorn, playing with the poker cards in her hand, "This is nothing but a futile struggle. I accepted the invitation to come here just to tell you this."
Shiller moved slowly, gradually from the side of the table to the diagonal rear, then through the crowd that was closing in, towards the woman's back.
Just one step away, Shiller would be directly behind the woman, who was still oblivious while selecting her poker cards.
Shiller took a step forward, but before his foot touched the ground, a glint of cold light flashed across his vision. As a sense of crisis surged, Shiller turned to look towards the source of the light.
A woman, or more accurately, a girl, wearing a jellyfish mask had a thin blade clutched between her index and middle fingers, moving with the crowd towards the table where Oliver and the woman sat.
Shiller strode forward, bypassing the two people in the middle, and squeezed past the last person from behind. The crowd moved tightly forward, and the figure in the red cloak darted through like a shark cutting through a school of fish at high speed.
Blocking the blade, lifting a hand, bending the elbow, using the strength of the upper arm, muscles in the forearm taut, his arm like a released arrow with the cold, sharp arrowhead frozen just before shooting out.
Shiller saw a pair of wild, extremely bright eyes instantly fix on him. The fingers gripping the girl's wrist loosened slightly, and with a rip, her withdrawing hand, along with the blade, sliced through Shiller's palm.
Shiller made no sound, just swiftly pinched the cloak on the other side of his body with his injured hand to prevent the blood from flowing out immediately, letting it seep into the fibers of his clothes instead.
"Don't make a sound," Shiller tried to stay rational amidst the numbing chaos and said, "They'll find out you're carrying a weapon."
A fluster of emotions finally showed in the girl's eyes. She bit her lip, somehow the blade in her hand disappeared, and she squeezed out of the crowd, moving towards Shiller.
"Don't talk, come with me." Shiller reached out for her with his uninjured hand, and together they headed towards the bathroom. No one in the room objected to their leaving. In fact, many people not currently involved in the game had either gone back to their rooms to rest or sought their own diversions; their departure hadn't attracted any attention.
As soon as they were out of sight of the crowd, Shiller felt himself being pushed away, but the force was not strong; it likely meant the other just wanted some distance rather than intent to attack.
His head felt heavy and dizzy, and he could hardly feel the pain from his wound, his eyes so unfocused that he could hardly see anything. He sighed—the last hit had been one too many.
Shiller leaned against the wall, with blood dripping continuously from his lowered hand, the quickening breath made the girl opposite him sense that something was wrong.
"What's wrong with you?" she tilted her head and took half a step forward, cautious not to come too close immediately, her hand still clutching a weapon tightly.
Shiller shook his head and said, "There's a medical room, find some bandages, who is your target?"
The girl didn't respond immediately, instead, she glanced at the wound on Shiller's hand—a deep cut almost completely splitting open the palm, with blood flowing out rapidly, staining his entire hand red.
She looked at the blade in her hand and sighed, seemingly annoyed, "You shouldn't have stopped me; I didn't mean to hurt you."
"But you did," he said, "Think of something, miss."
Taking a deep breath, the girl suddenly looked at her own clothes—she was wearing a Spanish-style long dress with petticoats and layers of thick ruff collars.
Immediately, she started to undo her collar and tore off the lowest layer. After folding it several times, it became a makeshift bandage. She stepped forward, took Shiller's arm, and began to dress the wound on his palm.
During the process, the girl looked up into Shiller's eyes, and apparently, the unfocused look in them startled her.
"God, what's wrong with you? You look like you're about to faint."
"In fact, I am," Shiller said, "Never mind me. Tell me who you were going to assassinate."
"I wasn't going to assassinate anyone," she insisted again, "I don't kill people at random, and hurting you was just an accident."
"Your name..." he trailed off.
"You don't need to know."
"I mean," Shiller persisted, "do you know the name Oliver Queen?"
The girl immediately showed a surprised expression, recalling the scene, as if remembering something, she tentatively looked at Shiller and asked, "Do you also know Oliver?"
"I'm his friend."
Shiller inhaled deeply and said with breaks, "You wanted to protect Oliver Queen, followed him on the ship, and thought he was going to lose, so you wanted to disrupt the game in another way."
The girl was shocked and retracted her hand in an instant, luckily, the bandaging was done.
"I don't read minds," Shiller said, "Your behavior was too obvious. Listen, I came on board for Oliver too, but you must not act rashly."
"But he's about to lose," the girl clenched her teeth, "He doesn't have that many chances left; he has to win, that's why I'm here."
Even with Shiller's sluggish thinking, he could guess the girl's identity but said nothing. Instead, he said, "Do you know who the woman you were about to attack is?"
"Who?"
"The Chief of the Federal Bureau of Investigation Special Criminal Crime Investigation Team, Amanda Waller."