Chapter 205: This Instance Can Only Have One Survivor

Tiffany holding a herb basket smiled at her, behind her closely followed Qiao Yinuo laughing loudly, her parents waved at her, holding Xiao Bai Ge in their arms, and many many people passed by.

Huang Baien, Tattoo, Chen Mo, twin sisters, factory boss Willow, Pip.

They had become appearances outside their roles, some wearing work uniforms with dirt-covered faces, some in suits like traveling salesmen, some successful and famous wearing brand-name clothes, some in lab coats with steadfast gazes.

They seemed not to notice Su Mian, all walking away in the opposite direction; she turned back, and at the end of the crowd was a blinding light that stung the eyes, but when she turned again, a person appeared before her.

He wore a mask, a proper suit, just as when they first met, he bowed toward Su Mian and extended his right hand gentlemanly.

Su Mian raised her hand and placed it on his; the man led her forward, and the final scene froze on a round table, at midnight he leaned on a cane and bowed deeply to her.

Ding—

A sound woke her; she opened her eyes, her throat dry, her head feeling dizzy from fever, and outside the train the haze suddenly cleared into vivid scenery, beautiful enough to be almost suffocating.

The train hugged the coastline, sunlight spread on the wave tops, sparkling, waves layered upon layers stretching toward the distance.

The sea was a lighter shade than the sky; islands and beaches, gulls and palm trees, near and far, breathtakingly beautiful.

Bright yet unreal, Su Mian rubbed her head and got up; outside the door, Ruan Ruan had already changed into a long skirt, her legs kneeling on a chair, continuously snapping photos out the window with her camera.

"Is the cockpit door open?"

Ruan Ruan shook her head, "I don't know, I just woke up too."

She seemed to have relaxed, as if she were truly on a trip, or perhaps she knew she was the Murderer and would surely win.

Su Mian said nothing, watching her cheerful demeanor, decided not to disturb, and walked alone toward the front of the car.

When Su Mian pushed open the cockpit door, sunlight slanted in through the dirty glass window, drawing blurred columns of light in the air.

She narrowed her eyes, scanned the cramped space—no ballot box, nothing to vote with—she stepped forward, her foot landing on something soft.

Looking down, it was a crumpled travel agency flyer printed with "Three-Day Tour of Maliso Island," already bleached by the sun.

A layer of dust coated the glass before the cockpit, as if no one had wiped it for a long time.

Su Mian instinctively raised her hand and wiped away a small patch with her palm.

Beneath the dust, red characters suddenly appeared.

This Instance can only have one survivor.

Su Mian stared at those words, her blood feeling as if drained, chilling from head to toe.

She should have known earlier.

From the moment she boarded the train, from the moment she knew everyone was a Murderer, she should have realized.

"Have you found the voting spot?"

Ruan Ruan's voice came from behind; Su Mian whipped around.

Ruan Ruan had followed her at some point, now standing with her head tilted at the cockpit doorway, sunlight streaming from behind her casting a soft shadow on her face.

"No." Su Mian heard her own voice, unusually dry from fever.

Ruan Ruan made an "oh" sound, her gaze sweeping past Su Mian's shoulder to land on the line of bloody characters behind her; her expression unchanged, she merely blinked.

"What should we do then?" Ruan Ruan's tone light, as if asking what to have for dinner.

Su Mian did not answer.

She slipped sideways past Ruan Ruan and returned to the carriage.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Ruan Ruan's voice came from behind; Su Mian froze, her fingertips trembling, the person behind her slowly stepped forward, handing her a knife, and Ruan Ruan's face changed in an instant.

That face was Qiao Yinuo's.

"Kill me, and you'll clear the stage."

"My dearest roommate, kill me……"

Su Mian's breath trembled; she closed her eyes, hearing that increasingly familiar voice urging her to kill her, her mind in chaos.

"You already guessed it, didn't you? I'm Qiao Yinuo, your best friend."

Qiao Yinuo walked up to Su Mian, grinning, "I won't hurt you; kill me, and you'll clear the instance right away."

Su Mian slightly shook her head, lips quivering, she slowly stepped back as Qiao Yinuo approached, pointing the blade at herself, wanting her to catch it.

"You're not Qiao Yinuo."

Su Mian said to herself.

"What are you saying? I am Qiao Yinuo; I even helped you look after Little Three Flower, and we've gone through two instances together—oh, no, now it's three."

Su Mian clenched her hands, her heart pounding like a drum, her mind blank.

She knew that wasn't Qiao Yinuo; killing her would let her clear the instance and survive.

She couldn't bring herself to act; she couldn't kill Qiao Yinuo as she had Wang Yan and Zhou Yichen, even though this person was merely a disguise.

In her blurred vision, she seemed to see that warm body pierced by her knife, blood spurting, the familiar face contorted in pain toward her.

Ringing in her ears, Su Mian painfully crouched, tears dripping from her eyes, her trembling hands covering her ears.

Again came those dreadful omens, those nightmares that had haunted her first half of life, now appearing vividly in her mind.

What will happen next?

Qiao Yinuo will die at her hands.

No, no, that isn't Qiao Yinuo; don't overthink.

Kill her, kill her…

Qiao Yinuo also crouched, grabbed her hand, shoved the knife into her palm; Su Mian's hand shook so badly she couldn't grip it, and the person before her forcibly pressed it into her grasp.

"Kill me, kill Qiao Yinuo……"

"No, don't……"

Su Mian gasped violently; the voices in her head made her feel icy cold to the bone, except for one gentle voice pouring into her ears.

"Mian Mian, close your eyes."

"I'll teach you to play the Harp again, okay?"

Su Mian shrank her shoulders, hugged her own arms, and did not respond.

"Don't listen to other sounds, relax, everything is just a dream."

That voice was not urgent, nor pressing, like it slowly approached from a very distant place.

"The first Root string is here."

Su Mian's fingertips gently closed, as if truly touching a transparent Root string.

A faint vibration sounded in her mind, like wind skimming over a lake surface.

"Just like that."

"Let the sounds connect, low notes below, high notes above, they will wrap around each other."

Su Mian sank into memory, she began recalling the positions of those strings, and how that melody had once been played, the frightening sound gradually fading away.

"Every time you pluck a string, it's you in control, not them."

The strings' vibration became complete, round, and steady.