If the phrase "rules are absolute" still applies to this second "game," then what is written on the mask is likely the key to solving it.
But how can we crack it?
When will the harpoons fire?
"The clock never stops ticking"...
Could it be 1:15?
Elliot Hayes turned to look at the desk clock. It was now 1:05, and if 1:15 was the time for the harpoons to fire, they had less than ten minutes left.
"Turn one hundred times towards home"...
The homes of the nine people present were in different locations, and one hundred turns is no small number.
If their thinking is wrong, they could easily waste those ten minutes.
But in this room, aside from themselves, what else could "turn"?
Elliot Hayes' gaze lingered on the desk clock in the center of the table.
He leaned forward and gently touched the clock, but it was firmly fixed to the desk, unable to move at all.
"Can't move the clock, maybe the chair?"
Elliot Hayes looked down at his chair. It was an old, musty chair, just casually placed on the floor with no hidden mechanism.
In that case, there's only one option left...
Elliot Hayes reached out and turned the table. Sure enough, a faint sound of chains came from inside the table.
But the table was heavy, and even with a lot of effort, he could only move it a few centimeters.
"One hundred turns..."
This number couldn't be achieved by just two or three people. The nine of them had to work together to move the table if they had any hope of survival.
Seraphina Grace, quick to notice Elliot Hayes' action, stopped everyone.
The others gathered around the table and saw that, indeed, the table could be turned.
"You're really something, conman." Vincent Moretti nodded, "If we turn this table one hundred times, it should open that invisible door."
Elliot Hayes glanced at the clock again. Though time was running out, the problem had become clearer.
Turning this round table a hundred times towards "home" had only two possible answers.
Left, or right.
But the group's homes were in different directions. How could they decide which way to turn?
"Elliot Hayes, do you already know when the harpoons will fire?" Seraphina Grace asked, covering her mouth and nose.
"The hint said 'the clock never stops.' It's likely to be 1:15," Elliot Hayes said softly.
Vincent Moretti's expression changed when he heard that. "Then there's less than ten minutes left! We need to start turning now!"
Dr. Clarke moved the body that was lying on the table aside and slowly sat down. He reached out to test the table's weight and said, "But we only have one chance. With such a heavy table, what if we get the direction wrong?"
"Then there's still a fifty percent chance of survival!" Vincent Moretti said urgently. "If we don't move, we're dead anyway. But if we turn, we have a fifty percent chance of living. Hurry up!"
With that, he used all his strength to start turning the table to the left.
Although Vincent Moretti looked weak, he had a lot of strength, and with just one person, he turned the table half a circle.
"What are you waiting for? Help me out!" Vincent Moretti shouted at the others.
The rest of the group, knowing Vincent Moretti was right, could only help him turn the table.
There was no correct answer now, just a gamble.
But Elliot Hayes didn't move.
He didn't know where the right direction was.
Left, or right?
Why was the keyword "home"?
They were all Americans, so it was "west"?
Up for north, down for south, left for west, right for east... Was the answer "left"?
What about the people from the east?
Elliot Hayes closed his eyes, intending to use the two bodies as cover, but if everyone else died, what would happen when the next game started?
"It's not time to give up on them yet."
Elliot Hayes thought to himself, then reached out, grabbing a piece of paper from the spinning table. He picked up a pen, stood up, and walked to a corner. He sat down and started writing something.
Though the others were confused, they didn't stop turning the table, and they had already turned it several times.
"If he hadn't introduced himself as a 'conman,' I would've thought the guy was a mathematician," Vincent Moretti said to Sasha Venus.
Sasha Venus, who was feeling dizzy from spinning earlier, nodded half-heartedly.
This time, Elliot Hayes didn't list any numbers. Instead, he roughly sketched a map of the country on the paper.
"Home...?"
His mind raced, and suddenly, he had an idea.
"Wait a second..." Elliot Hayes' eyes widened. "If the 'host' is so powerful, able to find people from so many cities with similar experiences, then 'city' must also be an important clue?"
He turned around and looked at the group turning the table. Seriously, he asked, "Did anyone lie about where they are from?"
Everyone shook their heads.
After all, "home" involved accents and expressions, and lying would be easy to expose.
"Good," Elliot Hayes nodded slightly. "Now, please tell me again, one by one, where you're from."
Officer Logan was the first to speak. "I'm from Houston."
Elliot Hayes marked a dot on Houston on the map.
"Virginia Beach," Attorney Hart said coldly.
"Reno..." Sasha Venus said.
"Indianapolis," said Emily Parker, the preschool teacher.
"Miami," Vincent Moretti said.
"Tucson," said Seraphina Grace, the psychologist.
"Greensboro," Dr. Clarke said.
Elliot Hayes marked everyone's hometown on the map and wrote his own—Orlando.
At that moment, all eyes turned to the writer Damien Reid, as he had never mentioned where he was from.
"Damien Reid, is the first letter of your city 'V'?"
Damien Reid froze and asked, "How did you know?"
"Time is running out. Just answer me," Elliot Hayes replied.
"Virginia Beach," Damien Reid said.
Elliot Hayes nodded.
If his answer hadn't been one of these two, he would've been lying.
Fortunately, he told the truth.
Elliot Hayes marked the final location on the map. Now, there were nine black dots on the rough sketch.
"Just as I thought."
Elliot Hayes muttered softly, "Stop! Turn to the right."
"Right?"
Elliot Hayes quickly ran to the table, threw the piece of paper on it, and started turning the table in the opposite direction.
Though the others were puzzled, they followed his lead.
Dr. Clarke glanced at the map on the table and the nine black dots.
"Why to the right?"