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墨書 Inktalez
"Who is the killer?" Jiang Jie pressed.
Zhang Liu sighed, "I’ll tell you, but you mustn't spread it around."
"Okay."
"The killer is a werewolf," Zhang Liu said in a hushed voice.
"Werewolf?" Jiang Jie exclaimed in surprise.
"This is the conclusion I’ve come to."
Jiang Jie quickly connected the dots, "So the bloody lettered painting that Dr. Wang found was deliberately left by you."
"Yes, I suspected Dr. Wang’s identity and wanted to test him. But it turns out I was overthinking it."
"Does Tan Ming also know who the killer is?"
"My senior just found out. He said the killer is lurking in the shadows, always watching us. He advised me to keep quiet and to directly vote to eliminate him when the time comes."
Yan Qing cautiously approached, filled with shock. "The Prophet can directly predict the killer? And it turns out to be someone from our group? This must be a cruel joke from the system!"
Upon reaching the second floor, Yan Qing entered and saw Qi Qiuluo sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, curled up with a vacant expression, lost in thought.
"I'm sorry," Yan Qing said softly.
Qi Qiuluo glanced up at him. "You have nothing to apologize for; it's me." His voice was low and filled with deep resignation; he couldn't get past his own hurdles and couldn't blame anyone else.
Thinking about it, Qi Qiuluo couldn't help but laugh—a bitter laugh. "I used to be so bold, unafraid of anything. Now I'm truly scared."
"What are you afraid of?" Yan Qing asked, puzzled.
"Afraid of dying." Qi Qiuluo's voice was light, yet those two words felt heavy as lead.
Yan Qing sat down beside him, recalling a famous saying: death itself isn't scary; what's terrifying is the process of waiting for it. He thought about how many classmates would die alongside him—it wasn't so bad after all.
Qi Qiuluo shook his head and looked at him with an expression Yan Qing couldn’t quite decipher. "You don’t understand."
What didn’t he understand? The sight of Qi Qiuluo in such a melancholic state tugged at Yan Qing’s heart.
He patted Qi Qiuluo on the shoulder and encouraged him, "Why think so much? If you're afraid of dying, then just focus on living!"
Just like him—being the killer didn’t matter; every minute alive was a minute gained.
"Yes, just focus on living," Qi Qiuluo murmured to himself.
Twenty minutes later, the sturdy iron doors and windows of the restaurant were all closed. Strong guards stood watch at the staircases on both the first and second floors, as well as by the restroom entrance.
Tan Ming led a group to carefully inspect everything once more, ensuring that there were no issues before making his way to the second floor. At that moment, Shen Jianghuan's voice echoed in the quiet space, announcing, "There are ten minutes remaining; please pay attention."
After she finished speaking, everyone waited anxiously, their expressions tense.
Tan Ming arrived on the second floor and inquired with the staff on duty while checking the roster. Following their directions, he found Yan Qing's room and walked over steadily. The second floor served primarily as a temporary resting area, but at that moment, no one had the mind to sleep, making it feel rather desolate with only a few people present.
Inside, only Yan Qing and Qi Qiuluo were there. Tan Ming had come to deliver medicine to Yan Qing and to help with his leg. His voice was steady and concise. If he hadn’t mentioned it, Yan Qing would have almost forgotten about the injury on his leg.
Yan Qing took the ointment without hesitation and pulled down his pants. The bandage that had once been applied was now bunched up without him realizing when it had happened. The wound had dried with clotted blood and was beginning to scab over.
As the ointment was applied, a cool sensation rushed over him, accompanied by a slight sting that made Yan Qing shiver involuntarily.
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