Today is the last day of Officer Diaz's career at the N.Y.T local police station.
As a native of N.Y.T, he has always loved this small city, which, while not as bustling and glamorous as New York, far surpasses it in warmth and friendliness. With a small population and beautiful surroundings, the streets are always a scene of pleasant tranquility.
As noon approached, just a few hours before his retirement, an alarm sounded. A bank on Maple Street was experiencing a shooting robbery, with two dead and over thirty hostages taken.
This was an unprecedentedly severe case in the history of N.Y.T. Old Diaz responded to the scene, carrying out his last mission. Gone were the blood and passion of his youth; all that remained were the responsibilities and dedication accumulated over many years. And, for the last time, a longing and hope for safety to return.
Upon arriving at the scene, the newly appointed officer, Vic, immediately took action, directing and assigning tasks, blocking roads, and mobilizing SWAT. Everything was organized and efficient.
Amid the throng of police officers, old Diaz spotted Yan Su.
He was standing on top of a police car with his phone, completely unaware of the commotion, seriously taking pictures as the sirens blared.
"S.A." Old Diaz shouted at him.
Yan Su turned his head upon hearing the voice, jumped off the car, and walked toward old Diaz. Before getting too close, he commanded, "Immediately request assistance from the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit."
Old Diaz replied, "We've already sent an application. Several FBI agents are on vacation locally and can come right away. The others will take an hour by plane."
Vic, standing nearby, didn't understand old Diaz's respectful attitude toward this young man and gently coughed, "Old Diaz, how does he know we need to request the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit?"
Old Diaz didn't have time to answer; Yan Su turned coldly to Vic, "Disguised as security and customers, armed with at least three types of firearms, they called the police in advance. This isn't their first crime. I saw the news about the FBI tracking similar bank robbery methods in several states in the Midwest a few months ago. So, do you understand?"
Vic was taken aback, then asked, "But who exactly are you?"
Old Diaz hurriedly introduced, "S.A. Yan, a behavioral analysis consultant for the FBI and CIA, has helped us solve many cases in N.Y.T."
Vic was astonished. He had certainly heard of Yan Su's name, but he never expected him to be so young. Before taking office, he knew that N.Y.T had many hidden talents and had thought about visiting Yan Su someday. But now, standing before such a young person, the 38-year-old Vic felt a bit uncomfortable.
He hesitated, unsure whether to offer a handshake or something, but the person before him showed no initiative. Just then,
"S.A., it's an honor!" a blonde woman in plain clothes appeared from nowhere, extending her hand toward Yan Su.
Yan Su frowned impatiently. Why were there so many unfamiliar faces today? Were they all just here to spectate? He kept his hands in his coat pockets, his expression cold.
The woman froze for a moment, her outstretched hand feeling awkward.
Yan Su glanced at her dismissively, "Negotiation expert?"
"I'm Lily," the woman said, her eyes widening in surprise. "How did you figure that out?"
"Please have some professional ethics!" Yan Su ignored her question, took out his phone, and pointed the screen at her. "This is the bank counter's phone. Call in and ask the robbers to release the injured guard first. If possible, our medical staff will go in and carry him out."
Vic frowned, unhappy with Yan Su's presumptuous attitude, but he had to admit that Yan Su's methods and reaction speed were indeed impressive.
Lily quickly set aside her awkwardness and grabbed the phone from the temporary operations desk.
"Wait!" Yan Su suddenly focused on the screen of the operations desk, where the bank's only remaining surveillance image was connected. The others had been destroyed by the robbers, but this one, hidden from view, provided a full view of the bank lobby from behind.
In the black-and-white video, three armed robbers pulled people from a large circle of hostages, each struggling desperately.
Lily stared at the monitor and then looked at the bank building across the street, covering her mouth in shock, "Oh my God, what are they doing?"
Yan Su remained silent, his expression grave.
Zhen Ai was crouched in the lower right corner of the screen, her hands tied, completely still. He stole a glance at her small figure, and his heart ached as if being scraped by a blunt knife.
The robbers began to go after the child in a woman's arms. Zhen Ai suddenly moved; she must have said something because everyone's gaze on the screen shifted to her. The youngest robber pointed his sniper rifle at Zhen Ai.
Yan Su felt a chill wash over him.
But the robber only tapped the barrel of the gun against Zhen Ai's cheek before turning to say something to the man in the center. Soon, he pulled Zhen Ai up, untied the ropes behind her hands, and pushed her to the center of the lobby. He then ordered everyone else on the periphery to turn away and not look at the center.
It was as if... a grand slaughter was about to take place.
Standing in the gentle wind, Yan Su realized that in that moment, he was drenched in cold sweat, chilled to the core.
#
Ten people were now sitting in a small circle in the center of the lobby. Jack and Arch searched everyone's driver's licenses and laid them out before King, then stood behind him like two executioners.
King was not talkative. Apart from the occasional flicker of a ghostly light in his eyes, he appeared gentle, a strikingly handsome man. Unfortunately, his smile offered no comfort to anyone.
He sat cross-legged on the ground, tapping each of the ten driver's licenses on the floor one by one with his finger. With each tap, he looked up to find its owner. His sinister yet cheerful gaze made everyone's hearts chill.
After reviewing them, he smiled slightly, "The killing game begins!"
As the ten exchanged fearful and anxious glances,
"Wait!" a brown-haired man shouted, "Send him out. He's at the door, and the police don't need to come." He pointed to the guard lying at the entrance, bleeding profusely.
King lowered his gaze to the driver's licenses on the ground: "Asa Excalib."
The man named Asa responded softly.
King pondered with his head lowered. Zhen Ai felt all her muscles tense up, worried that he might suddenly explode and kill this "talkative" young man. But at that moment, the phone at the counter rang.
#
Yan Su fixed his gaze on the surveillance screen.
At the moment the phone rang, King looked up and made a hand gesture to Jack, who immediately came over to answer the call. His position was close to the monitor, revealing a clear view of a young face, in his early twenties.
Among the three, he was in the most disadvantaged and submissive position.
"I'm Lily Dett, a negotiation expert from the N.Y.T Police Department. What do you need? You can tell me."
Today marks the last day of Officer Diaz's career at the N.Y.T local police department, as the father of Eva Diaz.
Born and raised in N.Y.T, he harbored a deep love for this small city, which, while less lively and bustling than New York, surpassed it in warmth and friendliness. With a small population and beautiful surroundings, the streets were always filled with a peaceful and pleasant atmosphere.
As noon approached, with just a few hours until retirement, an alarm sounded. A shooting robbery had occurred at the Maple Street Bank, resulting in two fatalities and over thirty hostages taken.
This was an unprecedentedly severe case in N.Y.T's history. Old Diaz responded to the call, executing his last mission. Long gone were the youthful fervor and passion; only the sense of responsibility and steadfastness honed over years remained. And, one last longing for safety and return.
Upon arriving at the scene, Officer Vic, who had just taken over on his first day, immediately sprang into action, directing assignments, sealing off roads, and mobilizing the SWAT team—everything was running like clockwork.
Among the sea of police officers, old Diaz spotted Yan Su.
He was standing atop a police car, his foot on the siren, oblivious to the noise, taking photos with great seriousness.
"S.A." Old Diaz called out to him.
Yan Su turned at the sound and jumped off the car, striding toward Diaz. Before he got close, he commanded Diaz, "Request assistance from the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit immediately."
Old Diaz replied, "We've already sent a request. A few FBI agents are on vacation locally and can arrive immediately. Others will take an hour by plane."
Vic, standing nearby, observed in confusion the respect old Diaz showed toward this young man, clearing his throat softly, "Old Diaz, how does he know we need to request assistance from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit?"
Old Diaz didn't have time to respond. Yan Su coldly turned to Vic, "Disguised as guards and customers, they brought at least three types of firearms and called the police in advance; this isn't their first crime. And I know from the news that the FBI has been tracking similar bank robbery methods in several states in the Midwest for months. So, do you understand?"
Vic was stunned and asked again, "But who exactly are you?"
Old Diaz quickly introduced, "S.A. Yan, a behavioral analysis consultant for the FBI and CIA. He has helped us solve many cases in N.Y.T in the past."
Vic was astonished; he had certainly heard of Yan Su's name but never imagined he was so young. Before taking office, he had known that N.Y.T harbored many talents and had even thought of visiting Yan Su someday. However, seeing this young man in front of him, 38-year-old Sheriff Vic felt a twinge of discomfort.
He hesitated, wondering whether he should extend a handshake, but the man before him showed no inclination. At that moment,
"S.A., it's an honor!" A blonde woman in civilian clothes unexpectedly appeared, reaching out her hand toward Yan Su.
Yan Su frowned in irritation; today seemed to bring too many unfamiliar faces. Were they all just here to spectate? He kept his hands firmly in his trench coat pockets, his expression icy.
The woman paused, her hand outstretched, feeling awkward.
Yan Su's indifferent gaze swept over her, "Negotiation specialist?"
"My name is Lily," the woman said, her eyes widening in surprise, "How did you know?"
"Please maintain some professional ethics!" Yan Su ignored her question and pulled out his phone, briefly scrolling, then turned the screen toward her, "This is the bank counter's number; call it and tell the robbers to release the injured guard first. If possible, we'll send our medical personnel in to retrieve him."
Vic frowned, dissatisfied with Yan Su's self-assured attitude, but he couldn't deny the impressive speed and reasoning Yan Su demonstrated.
Lily quickly put aside her embarrassment and grabbed the phone on the temporary operation desk.
"Wait!" Yan Su suddenly fixed his gaze on the screen of the operation desk, where only one surveillance image from the bank remained; the others had been destroyed by the robbers. This particular one, however, was somewhat concealed and could capture the entire view of the bank lobby from behind.
In the black-and-white video, three gunmen were pulling individuals from the group of hostages, each person struggling desperately.
Lily stared at the monitor and then looked at the bank building across the street, covering her mouth, "Oh my God, what are they doing?"
Yan Su remained silent, his expression grave.
Zhen Ai was squatting in the lower right corner of the screen, her hands bound, motionless. He glanced at her small figure, feeling a stab of pain in his heart.
The robbers began to take the children from the women, and Zhen Ai suddenly moved. She seemed to say something, as everyone's attention turned toward her. The youngest gunman pointed his sniper rifle at Zhen Ai.
Yan Su felt a chill run down his spine.
But the man merely tapped the rifle against Zhen Ai's cheek and turned to speak to the man in the center. Soon, he pulled Zhen Ai up, untied her hands behind her back, and pushed her into the middle of the lobby. He then ordered the remaining hostages to turn their backs, forbidding them to look at the center.
As if... a grand slaughter was about to take place.
Yan Su stood in the gentle breeze, realizing in that moment that he was drenched in cold sweat, a chill settling deep in his heart.
---
Ten people were now all squatting in a small circle at the center of the lobby. Jack and Arch searched through everyone's ID cards and placed them before King, standing like two statues of executioners behind him.
King spoke little. His eyes occasionally flickered with a ghostly light but appeared gentle, as he was a remarkably handsome man. Unfortunately, his smile offered no comfort to anyone.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he tapped the ten ID cards on the ground one by one, lifting his gaze to meet each owner's eyes as he did so. The eerie, yet gleeful look in his eyes sent chills down everyone's spines.
After reviewing them, he smiled faintly, "The murder game begins!"
The ten individuals exchanged anxious glances, their fear palpable.
"This game is called 'Who is the Killer!' And I am the Judge." King's expression grew serious, "The game begins. Night falls, please close your eyes!"
The ten people were frozen in shock. Was he going to choose a "killer" from among them and then proceed to kill?
"We won't harm each other, you won't get away with this!" a girl sitting opposite Zhen Ai retorted coldly. She was the same girl who had tied Zhen Ai's hands earlier but had used a loose knot.
King looked down at her, "Amber Smith."
The girl named Amber bit her lip, "We won't be your murderers!"
King's expression darkened slightly, "Oh, those who don't follow the rules of the game must die!" Jack, standing behind him, raised his gun expressionlessly.
Zhen Ai was about to intervene when the girl beside Amber quickly held her back, saying firmly, "We'll follow the rules!"
"Suki, I like your cooperation." King withdrew his gaze quietly, and Jack lowered his gun.
"Don't make me repeat myself. Night falls, please close your eyes!"
After this round of turmoil, everyone's mental defenses were stretched to the limit, and one by one, they closed their eyes, filled with despair and helplessness. Zhen Ai glanced at the college girl who had left her boyfriend; she had tightly shut her eyes, tears streaming down her face, her lips pale with fear, trembling as if they might fall off.
Zhen Ai quietly closed her eyes, and darkness enveloped her.
She heard King stand up, slowly walking around the small circle, his steps even and steady, moving behind her and lightly tapping her shoulder.
Zhen Ai jolted, her body tensing up.
The following seconds dragged on painfully.
King finally walked back to sit down, slowly saying, "The killer please take action."
Sitting in her own darkness, Zhen Ai felt her heart pounding in her ears, resonating through the world. After a second, she opened her eyes, gazing calmly at King. In that moment, only she and these fiends were awake in the hall.
A glimmer of delight flashed in King's eyes as he continued with the instructions, "The killer please kill."
Zhen Ai silently stared at him, remaining motionless.
One second, then another, a deathly silence filled the room.
King scoffed, repeating, "The killer please kill."
Zhen Ai saw the dark muzzle of a gun turning toward her; her body tensed like a drawn bow, her mind blank. But instinctively, she couldn't choose someone else to die.
Gritting her teeth, she slowly and rigidly raised her right arm—pointing straight at King's eyes.
The man known as King, the amusement in his eyes vanished in an instant, leaving behind a hollow emptiness.
Jack tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Zhen Ai.
Zhen Ai felt the blood in her veins freeze, yet she remained motionless, pointing at King. Haha, didn't he say to point at whoever to kill them? Why wasn't he following the rules? Coward!
As she pointed at him, a sense of absurdity washed over her, and she didn't think much about it; a mocking smile appeared at the corner of her lips. Proud yet scornful, it was as if she wanted to shove the three big men into the mud.
King seemed to
have grasped her mockery; a fleeting, faint look of confusion crossed his face, but he quickly stabilized, saying, "A new rule has been temporarily added; the killer cannot select the Judge, which is me. This round is void, the killer please close your eyes."
Zhen Ai was taken aback, completely unprepared for him to show some backbone. She warily observed him, stealing a glance at Jack's gun. The latter complied with King's instructions and coldly retracted it.
Only then did Zhen Ai close her eyes.
Once again submerged in darkness, her heart raced wildly, fear engulfing her like a tide, her bones felt as if they had been soaked in vinegar, softening.
King selected a new killer this time, and it was not Zhen Ai.
"The killer please take action."
...
"The killer please kill."
...
Zhen Ai's heartbeat stabilized, only to plunge into tension once more. What would the new killer do? Was it possible that she might not be killed, but others would choose to kill her instead?
In the quiet darkness, King's cold voice, devoid of any warmth, suddenly echoed, "The killer has killed, please close your eyes!"
Zhen Ai's heart lurched.
"Daylight, please open your eyes!"
Panicked, the group opened their eyes, alert and fearful, gazing at each other.
"The person who was killed is…" King's voice carried the weight of a verdict, drawing every desperate gaze toward him. He picked up a driver's license from the ground and raised it high.
Zhen Ai was close enough to see that it was a young Asian boy, his photo displaying a bright, sunny smile.
King squeezed his right hand, and the driver's license snapped in two, falling to the ground. He announced, "Ko Nakamura."
The name echoed through the silence, shock washing over the group as all eyes shifted, some filled with relief, others with pity, to the young man.
Just then, "Bang!" The sound of a gunshot shattered the air; a red dot appeared on Ko's forehead, blood erupting like a demon, staining half of his face grotesquely.
His eyes widened in disbelief, mouth agape, yet it was too late for protests or pleas; before everyone could comprehend the horrifying reality, he collapsed.
The room fell silent, the onlookers unable to believe their own eyes. They had just watched someone get murdered, staring in disbelief.
After a few seconds of stunned silence,
"He was my friend!" a Japanese girl wailed, her cries piercing the atmosphere, "Who? Who among you chose to kill him?! Stand up! Stand up!!!"
This statement awakened the remaining people. Yes, there was an invisible killer among us who had chosen this Japanese boy as a sacrifice. The next one could be me!
The remaining people were panicking, trembling uncontrollably, yet they began to subtly observe the suspicious individuals around them.
Seeing that things were heading in this direction, Zhen Ai decided to shift the focus. She cleverly said to the girl, "Calm down, be careful of that guy named Jack; he might shoot you."
This statement proved effective, and the girl immediately fell silent.
At that moment, the female college student also cried out, "Yes, the killer is Jack, not any of us. They are the real murderers, the true demons."
King sneered, unfazed, and commanded, "Now, you may begin to identify who the killer is!"
No one spoke, but everyone was pondering, trying to figure out who among the acquaintances from the bank or the strangers was the murderer.
Seeing that no one responded, King shrugged with ease: "Since that's the case, let's start the second round. It's dark; please close your eyes. Killer, please continue to kill."
Finally, he smiled faintly, "Who will be the next to die? Don't you want to fight for your lives?"
His devilish words spread like a virus in their hearts. For the faint hope of survival, their bottom lines began to crumble.
The female college student could no longer bear it. Suddenly, she crazily pointed at the black man who had said women and children should go first: "The killer is him! When we were in the bank, that pair of Japanese people whispered that he had black skin. Only he and that pair of Japanese people could have a grudge against each other; he must have killed them! He is the murderer!"
The black man stared at her in shock and retorted, "I didn't." As he spoke, he frantically glanced at Jack's gun and hurriedly defended himself, "I didn't hear them say anything; she's just making it up. She's framing me!"
Seeing that everyone was getting chaotic, Suki quickly asked the Japanese woman, "What's going on?"
The woman lowered her head. "We mentioned him; he… he even glared at us," she suddenly looked up and pointed at the black man, "He must have heard us. He's lying!"
At that moment, any trivial reason became a motive for murder.
King smiled in satisfaction: "Are you sure it's him?"
The college girl gritted her teeth: "Absolutely!"
The black man screamed in despair, "Why are you trying to harm me? You are the real murderer! Everyone, she's the murderer! She's the first one to accuse others. She's the killer!"
The scene descended into chaos, and everyone's gaze shifted back and forth between the two, subconsciously locking onto them, regardless of the fact that this game was about life and death.
"Yes!" said a brown-haired man named Aisa, turning to the college girl with a cold smile, "If we're talking about having a grudge against the deceased Japanese man, I remember there was a quarrel when you were picking your numbers; he even called you a bitch."
As soon as he said this, the girl turned pale, and a blonde woman chimed in: "Yes, I saw it. He almost fought with her boyfriend."
Clearly, this incident drew more attention, and more people echoed, "I saw it too." In an instant, the crowd went mad, adding fuel to the execution of the college girl.
The girl's face turned ashen as she pointed at the black man, screaming and crying, "It's not me! The murderer is him! It's him!"
Zhen Ai stared blankly at the crowd, who were pointing fingers and expressing their righteous indignation, suddenly feeling that everyone had transformed into twisted demons, fierce and terrifying. The man opposite, Anbo, called for calm, but his voice was drowned out.
Someone in the crowd shouted, "Just now, you said the killer wasn't among us but was Jack with the gun. This statement proves your guilt!"
Zhen Ai felt as if someone had hit her on the head with a club. Why did a true statement become evidence of guilt?
But everyone had gone mad, increasingly convinced that the college girl was the murderer.
King smiled faintly: "Those who believe she is the killer, please raise your hands!"
One hand, two hands... slowly, hands began to rise.
Zhen Ai wanted to defend her, but the crowd in front of her were demons. As soon as she said a word in defense, she would also be deemed a killer. What could she do to make everyone clear-headed? What should she do?
Looking at the hands that were voting, the girl was so frightened that she could no longer cry; she crawled into the circle, crying out in despair: "It's not me, really not me. Please don't raise your hands, don't vote anymore! I beg you, don't! It's not me, I'm not the murderer!"
Four hands had already been raised in support of her.
Zhen Ai, Anbo, Suki, and Aisa showed no intention of raising their hands. The girl's desperate gaze suddenly fell on the black man, who was still considering; she immediately crawled over to him, grasping his hand: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I believe you, please don't raise your hand, don't raise your hand. I'm not the murderer, not!"
A flicker of pain passed across the black man's face, tears glistening in his dark eyes: "I really am not the murderer."
The girl nodded repeatedly, staring at him intensely: "You're not, you're not."
He shook his head, his tears shining even more: "But you, you were the first to accuse me. Only the real murderer would do everything possible to mislead everyone into killing an innocent person. So, it must be you."
The girl trembled all over, opening her mouth but unable to say anything, just watching helplessly as the black man's tears fell and his hand was raised.
He said, "I'm sorry. I have to save myself."
King raised an eyebrow, picked up a driver's license card, and the image of the smiling girl on it was instantly torn in half: "Diana Martin, 5 votes for execution."
Diana screamed and rushed out, but with a gunshot, she fell into a pool of blood, motionless.
The survivors stared blankly, shocked by the realization that they had just witnessed the horror of having sent a young life to the guillotine.
No one felt relieved or saved; instead, their hearts had grown numb, devoid of guilt or compassion.
But more devastating news lay ahead.
King smiled faintly: "Killing an innocent person by mistake, the game continues."