Infinite Murder Mystery Game: The Beauty with a Delicate Palm

His face was red from the cold, and the wound on his hand holding the reins reopened, staining the rope with blood.

A fleeting illusion of fainting crossed her mind. She steadied herself, wiped the blood from her palm, and tore a corner of her skirt to bandage her hand.

She remembered those insignificant marks.

Dead shrubs, rocks eroded into knife-edge shapes by the wind, and hills in the distance lying on the horizon like broken spines.

At this moment, memory becomes the only reliable guide.

The chill seeped into my bones from my clothes; I gritted my teeth in sleep, and the pain actually made me more awake.

As the horse's hooves trampled sand dunes, inappropriate thoughts began to surface in her mind.

It would be quite funny if... if I died in the wasteland before I even got there.

When people are so cold they become numb, they tend to think about all sorts of strange things.

"Mianmian, you're always sick, and Mommy's worried about you. How about we let you continue attending a day school?"

"I'm not that fragile, Mom."

"That's true. Mianmian has had so many illnesses since she was little, but she's still doing just fine now, isn't she?"

"You are a child that illness can never defeat."

She is a child whom illness can never defeat, and a person whom death can never take away.

That sentence was once like a blessing, but also like an invisible shackle.

She survived thanks to it, she got up from her hospital bed time and time again thanks to it, and she convinced herself that she was not a defective product given away by fate.

She no longer felt like someone who was merely stealing a living.

Even if I'm world-weary, even if I've thought countless times at night that I wouldn't care if some illness took me away, it's just a way out, a compromise when I'm exhausted.

But when real death came, dragging everyone onto the same probability line, she felt the weight of her heart for the first time so clearly.

A forced yearning to be awake.

She wanted to live.

It wasn't to prove anything, nor to fight against anyone, but simply because she was still breathing, could still feel cold, feel pain, and feel the blood pulsating in her fingertips.

She wanted to live until the game ended, to taste victory again, to prevent the lavender blooming across the mountains from being stained with blood, and to see this fictional medieval world usher in peace.

Why are you becoming more and more greedy?

But I'm becoming more and more courageous in loving myself.

-

Adrian and his companion arrived at the dock without stopping, just as darkness fell.

The sea was as still as ever, the rising moon casting a pale, frosty glow before being swallowed by wave after wave.

Fishermen returning late dragged their nets down from the deck.

"Hello, I'd like to ask how many boats pass through here each day?"

"Passing through by ship?"

The fisherman seemed to have heard something amusing, "They're about to go to war with Taren, what's the point of using ships? All shipping routes have been ordered to be withdrawn by the city defense forces."

He waved his hand and dragged his tired body toward the bridge. Adele grabbed his hand. "Adrian, ordinary fishermen probably don't know anything about smuggling. We need to go to the merchants' guild in Wibbens and ask."

Adrian nodded. "You're right."

So the two of them stayed on the second floor of a nearby tavern, planning to set off early the next morning.

But they seem to have underestimated this group's desire for "doomsday revelry".

People always indulge in pleasure before a devastating threat arrives, and people of every era are no exception.

This pub, open all night, provided an outlet for a group of repressed and desperate people.

They laughed, played drinking games, drank, and danced the Brownley. Sailors, deserters, and citizens gathered together, regardless of whether they knew each other or not; as long as they raised their glasses, they were temporary companions.

Some people were roaring while sticking cheese into shards of daggers, some were burying their faces in the greasy necks of waitresses and sobbing, and many more were just drinking, aimlessly drinking, trying to forget the impending smoke and nightmare.

Adele, lying on the rough linen sheets on the second floor, opened her eyes in exasperation, her bare feet treading across the cold floor, wanting to ask the landlady for some calming herbs.

The torches in the corridor had long since gone out. Relying on her memory of where she came from, she wandered around for a while, eventually pushing open a door that she thought led to the stairs.

A musty, cold, and sour smell enveloped her.

This is a storage room, filled with the remains of a tavern.

A crooked oak barrel, a chipped ceramic cup, a tin pot lying askew in a spiderweb; the only light comes from a small, dirty vent high up, where moonlight squeezes in, casting eerie shadows on the uneven ground.

She swallowed hard, suddenly hoping to hear the sounds of revelry, but the absolute silence amplified her fear.

Maybe... I should just go back to sleep.

Just as she was about to turn around, she caught a glimpse of a moving figure out of the corner of her eye, and her hair stood on end.

"Who?"

"Who's there?!"

She was met with the sound of wind. Crouching low, she quickly came out of the storage room, closed the door behind her, and stumbled back down the corridor she had come from, not daring to look back for a moment.

Fortunately, she found the spiral staircase leading to the first floor.

Adele rushed downstairs, amidst the bustling crowd. She felt a cold sweat break out on her back, but finally calmed down.

This strange feeling reminded her of the night she arrived at the church and saw the dead Cecily.

The more she thought about it, the more horrified she became. She shuddered and saw Adrian standing by the bar.

"Your turn! I have six 'Zhuge Crossbows'! Are you scared?"

"You have six Zhuge Liangs? I don't believe it... Open!"

The man confronting Adrian cursed and clenched his fists indignantly.

Adele: ...?

Noticing Adele standing there stunned, Adrian coughed awkwardly twice.

"It's too noisy for me to sleep, so... if I can't beat them, I'll just join them."

"Wonderful! Brother, which traveling merchant from the East got this game from? It's way more exciting than dice! Quick, reveal your cards!"

The oarsman, oblivious to anything amiss, patted Adrian's shoulder and laughed heartily.

Adrian waved his hand, and the paddler looked disappointed. He then turned to find others to play the new game, as if he had discovered a new continent.

"What's wrong? Your face is so pale?"

"It's nothing... I just got lost."

Adele shook her head, but Adrian cupped her face in his hands, startling her. She looked up at the person in front of her.

"Your face is cold too, you must be scared. I'll take you to your bedroom in a bit."

Adele was stunned by Adrian's bold move and looked at his slightly flushed face.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Um."

After the conversation ended, the two fell silent for a moment, while the handsome man and beautiful woman standing at the bar attracted a lot of attention.

It seems that apart from the clue mission, the two have never discussed anything else, and now they are actually crossing the line.

The atmosphere froze for a moment, and then Adele suddenly spoke without warning.

"Do you...like Evelyn?"