My Healing Games

Chapter 725 Ten Minutes of Killing Time

It's relatively safe for two people to exchange tickets, because they have no other choice but to trust each other.

However, if the three people exchange tickets, they will have another option, which will increase their psychological suspicion and pressure.

"You say you're a cop, he's a fugitive; he says he's a cop, you're the fugitive; only the two of you know the truth, so whoever survives is the cop." The maniacal laughter seemed to be a monologue.

"I don't know you at all, why would you vote for me?" The officer laughed in disbelief.

“I voted for you because I already have someone else’s vote. I can guarantee my own survival. Think it over carefully before making your choice.” The maniac sat back down in his original seat: “If you vote for the screenwriter, then the three of us will have established trust, and you can get rid of that fugitive.”

If the magician is a treacherous and despicable villain who enjoys watching humanity crumble, then the Maniac Laugh is a pure devil who dislikes order and rules.

The magician told the fugitive that he only needed to think of the other person's name in his mind to vote, while the maniacal laughter further fueled the fire, putting the police officers and the fugitive on the brink of disaster.

The black rain outside the window grew heavier and heavier, the black waves crashing against the hotel, the old building creaking under the strain, and everyone could feel the slight tremors.

"Hurry up and make your choice," the magician urged, looking up at the roof as if worried about leaks.

"No! I think we still need to find the killer! We're completely caught in the killer's game. Do you all want to become accomplices to the murderer?" Sweat beaded on the officer's forehead as he approached the magician: "What were you doing last night when the victim was killed? Why was there a playing card in the victim's sleeve?"

"Are you starting to bite people randomly? Don't lose your composure. You're a police officer, not a fugitive murderer." The magician shifted his gaze and glanced at the officer.

"Do you dare let me search you? If you have anything on you that matches the deceased, like other playing cards, then you're the prime suspect!" The officer was stalling for the vote; he needed to find a way to break the balance everyone had built up, even if it meant "accidentally" killing someone.

"Body search?" The magician neither agreed nor refused, and the officer simply grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up.

"I hope you can cooperate. I'm doing this for everyone!" The officer reached into the magician's pocket, but at that moment he screamed. When he took his hand out, there were two small cuts on his middle finger.

What are you hiding in your pocket?!

The officer covered his own fingers, his expression turning somewhat frightening.

“My little pet.” The magician raised his hands, and an ugly worm crawled out of his pocket. “Don’t worry, this thing isn’t poisonous. It’s usually very docile. It was just startled by you.”

As the magician and the police officers confronted each other, they heard a cracking sound coming from the hotel roof. Looking up, they saw a very obvious crack in the roof, and rainwater had already seeped into the room.

"Make a choice. If he wants to live, he'll probably still choose you," the hotel owner said, looking at all the guests in the room with a worried expression.

"Let's finish this round of choices first, then consider the others," the middle-aged screenwriter said from the side.

"That's easy for you to say. You can save yourselves, that's why you've been urging us on. But don't forget, the killer said only one person can survive. Sooner or later, you'll face the same situation as me!" The officer's mood was a bit off. He walked back to the table and glared fiercely at the fugitive: "Give me your vote, we'll choose each other, and I can guarantee you'll survive to the end!"

The fugitive seemed to know exactly what kind of person the officer was. Blood was still flowing from the severed part of his arm, and his face was as pale as paper. It seemed that he was not going to live much longer anyway.

"So you've finally come to beg me?" The fugitive lay on the ground, his eyes full of mockery as he looked at the officer. "You went to all this trouble to turn me into this, and now that your true nature has been exposed, you're just so stupid and cruel. You're no different from an animal."

"Wouldn't it be better to live together?"

"Okay, of course, no problem." The fugitive shakily got up from the ground, dipped his finger in his own blood, wrote the word "police officer" on a piece of paper, and then silently threw it into the black box.

Throughout the entire process, he didn't look at the police officer once, and no one knew who he actually chose.

After the fugitive finished voting, the police officer himself walked to the black box, holding a piece of white paper in his hand, but he didn't throw the paper in for a long time.

"I understand now. The ten minutes after each vote are not used to find the truth, but to kill!"

Death slowly approaches, and those without tickets have no way to survive. If they want to live, they can only choose the alternative answer—to find a way to kill everyone.

Since I'm already isolated, since I've already been driven to the brink of despair, since I can't go on living anyway, I might as well drag the others down with me.

Time ticked by, but the officers still didn't vote. Han Fei seemed to understand his plan: he was stalling for time, waiting for the safe room to be destroyed before finding an opportunity to kill and establish a new balance.

Han Fei moved silently toward the middle-aged woman, worried that the police officers might harm the woman who seemed kind.

"How much longer are you going to think about it?" The magician reached into his pocket and fiddled with the insect.

With the encouragement of a few people, the police officer who tried to formulate new rules became the one who was isolated.

From the moment the officer hesitated to vote, he was labeled as dangerous, and all the tourists were speculating about his inner thoughts, thinking that he might have already begun to simulate murder scenarios.

“There must be other ways to break this game. The murderer may just be using the rules here to deliberately create an atmosphere…” The officer tried to convince others, but in the end, he could only convince himself. Just when the other tourists were about to lose patience, the sound of cracking came from the top of the hotel again. Wood chips and stones fell, and then the lights went out. Everyone heard a loud bang!
"Oh!"

A huge glass lamp hanging from the roof and a large section of the wall fell down at the same time!

Black rain poured into the hotel through the gap, and the power lines were snapped, their blue flashes crackling in the darkness.

"Be careful around you!"

The moment the lights went out, two screams rang out from inside the room, followed by chaotic footsteps and the sound of things being overturned.

"Stay where you are! Nobody move!"

About a minute later, the waiter took out a spare light from the counter, and the light reappeared in the hall.

The dim light illuminated the faces of the people in the room. The screenwriter, who was standing near the dining table, fell to the ground. A shard of glass pierced his ribs. The murderer had aimed straight for his heart, but perhaps because the screenwriter was dodging in the dark, the stab missed.

Blood seeped from the wound, and the screenwriter was in so much pain that he couldn't speak.

Another injured person inside the house was the hotel owner, who had a cut from his shoulder to his chest.

The killer was extremely brutal; his original plan was to slit the boss's neck, but he failed.

The hotel owner was old and frail, and in theory he shouldn't have posed much of a threat, but the murderer targeted him.

The lights had only been out for a minute when two out of ten people were injured, making everyone even more tense.

"There's more than one killer?" The officer was still standing next to the black box, and the surprise on his face didn't seem faked.

"Is it strange? Could you be one of them?" The magician stared at the police officer's hand.

"Go vote as soon as possible! Don't delay any longer! The hotel will collapse!" The seriously injured hotel owner grabbed the waiter's arm, his face contorted in pain, the wrinkles on his face all scrunched up.

"Stop trying to stall for time. If you won't vote, we'll all vote for you." The magician smiled at the police officer. "Are you regretting now that you didn't choose to kill me, but instead chose to kill an old man?"

Every word the magician uttered seemed to be a test; he knew the police officer was powerful, so he wanted to take him out first.

The men inside the room were all giving the police officer unfriendly looks. He was forced into a corner and had no choice but to take the risk and gamble to see if the fugitive would really give him the ticket.

The white paper with the fugitive's name written on it fell into the black box, and the police officer's unease intensified.

The hands of the clock moved slowly. Ten minutes later, the police officer suddenly clutched his chest, opened his mouth and vomited. Thick black smoke poured out of his mouth and nose.

"You didn't write my name!" His veins turned black, and the mist stretched his skin. The policeman struggled to rush toward the fugitive, wanting to take him down with him, but before he could reach him, he was enveloped in black mist.

The fog surged toward the black box, and when the fog dissipated, the police officer disappeared into the hotel.

The fugitive breathed a sigh of relief. He struggled to untie the rope and walked towards the maniac: "Thank you. If it weren't for your hint, I wouldn't have been able to escape so easily."

"hint?"

"You told the officer to write down the screenwriter's name, weren't you implying something to me?" The one-armed fugitive mistook him for someone else: "I wrote down the screenwriter's name."

“But I didn’t write your name. It was the police officer who wrote it.” The screenwriter was pale. He didn’t dare to pull out the glass shards, so he could only grit his teeth and say, “He believed you, and you killed him with your own hands.”

"Not you?" The fugitive froze on the spot. He stared at the maniacal laughter and suddenly asked out of the blue, "I gave you the hidden butcher's knife, and you promised to help me?"

His laughter remained completely expressionless as he nodded. "I'll help you."

After the police officer died, the black rain subsided a little, but only ten minutes later, the rain intensified again, as if the despair grew stronger with each death.

The atmosphere inside the hotel has become extremely tense. Two people made their move in the darkness, which means that even if the police officer is dead, the murderer is still among the crowd.

"Oh no! The water's rising!" A masked waiter stood by the window. The water level outside the hotel was rising rapidly, already covering the steps and about to flood the building.

"Let's go to the second floor and go back to our rooms first." The hotel owner tried to stand up several times but couldn't. He seemed to know that he was about to die, so he wanted to tell the staff some things that were confidential and should not be overheard by others.

As the group continued upwards, Han Fei noticed that everyone was deliberately avoiding the black box. Finally, the mute girl picked up the black box and followed behind the others.

"She...has changed a lot."

Upon reaching the second floor, Han Fei slowed down slightly. As the fugitive passed by him, he said in a low voice, "Isn't the executioner's blade still in your heart?"

(End of this chapter)