Story Reader / Affection / Lilith: Daemonissa / Story
Speaking of which, don't we have five minutes until the trial run starts?
It's just a luck-based game, what's there to test?
Just then, the terminal let out a soft beep.
The signal icon from earlier seems to be responding now.
Something's off with the terminal.
It's the virus!
Precisely.
Glancing at the indicator on the wrist-mounted terminal, the virus concentration reading on the detection device has quietly climbed to the second space.
When this stair-step pattern reaches the end, you're out of the game.
But the game hasn't even started! How come mine's already jumped a space?
Huh? Mine's not doing anything yet.
Which means...
Upon entering the building, a mechanical humming can be faintly heard, likely coming from several small filtration units.
This way, the Punishing concentration in different zones can be reduced in a short period of time.
Similarly, if the facility's operations are stopped or interrupted, the virus concentration will rise.
Why does she have fewer spaces than me? That's not fair!
Relax, mine's got even more spaces than yours.
We can't perfectly regulate the Punishing Virus concentration, but... an uneven playing field adds to the fun.
And I've already locked in my card choice.
The mechanoid's voice once again reminds everyone of the impending deadline, casting a chill over the atmosphere.
Shortly after falling into silence again, Faulkner also completes his selection.
Lifting the terminal, the screen displays options for rock and paper.
Isn't this just pure random chance?
Assuming there are two rocks, two scissors, and one paper on the field...
In other words, a two-versus-two-versus-one scenario—the result of that situation is still up in the air.
You're testing a loophole the rules didn't account for.
As you make your choice, the other two also complete their selections in succession.
The results appear on the terminal:
No. 1: Rock No. 2: Scissors No. 3: Paper No. 4: Rock No. 5: Scissors
Result of this round: No. 3 is defeated.
As you make your choice, the other two also complete their selections in succession.
The results appear on the terminal:
No. 1: Rock No. 2: Scissors No. 3: Paper No. 4: Paper No. 5: Scissors
Result of this round: No. 1 is defeated.
It seems luck remains on your side. You've managed to verify what you wanted.
That the majority wins is practically a mercy rule.
The timer for a new round begins.
Two of the six serums brought before departure have already been used. With no telling how much time remains, it's best to use the rest sparingly.
Lilith walks to a full-length mirror.
Didn't think I'd get a dose of nostalgia here...
There's a touch of self-mockery in her voice as she looks at herself, now dressed in her old coating, and murmurs softly.
After she tosses the terminal aside, it emits another sound.
I think...
Lilith looks toward the terminal.
This game isn't entirely dependent on luck.
Uhm? Why, though?
There's a one-hour interval between each round of the game.
If we can maintain a tie in each round, we might be able to use the interval to find another way to escape.
The best scenario would be for all five players to choose the same gesture.
But the odds of that are incredibly slim.
That's right, so...
We need to create ties like we just did.
Wait, so someone still has to take the hit this round?
You've got to be kidding.
That's a genius idea!
You've turned a complex process into a roulette game, cutting down on the pre-play strategizing, giving you more chances to explore other avenues of freedom.
I'm on board with this strategy, but it's a classic prisoner's dilemma; if anyone tries to deviate, the cooperation falls apart.
I'll try my best to lose in the first round.
Why don't you just take all the punishments yourself?
I'm down with sharing the risk.
Isn't it fascinating to try for a win-win in a life-or-death game?
If it's alright, I can take the first round's loss.
Lilith raises her terminal and speaks into the microphone.
I don't even know you people; why should I trust you?
I'm in, but if we're not making progress by round three, we're each on our own.
Four to one. To maximize my survival, I'll side with the majority, and given my position, I'd rather not make enemies here.
The communication channel falls silent for about half a minute as Lilith takes out a pearl necklace from her jewelry cabinet and puts it on.
You'd all be better off finding another way out of here.
The group falls back into silence.
She turns off her microphone.
Gathering everyone in the public channel—this isn't just a time-wasting tactic, is it...
What are you trying to accomplish with this time?
She mutters to herself as she closes the wardrobe.
Let's clear the card table clean. All information—whether about the game itself or the other participants—needs to be reorganized at this moment.
The sound of Faulkner's heavy punch echoes from the nearby wall, the Construct's powerful strike causing the structure to tremble. Yet, despite the force, the wall shows no sign of damage.
Faulkner makes no effort to hide the fact that he's a Construct. His unstable emotions could lead to dangerous actions, but in a way, that also makes his mindset easier to predict.
Rabio, however, is far more guarded. His words give little away, and he carefully avoids taking a stance while always positioning himself on the side of the majority.
As for Eleanor, there's something elusive in her tone, making her intentions hard to pin down.
Any breakthroughs?
Rabio's voice interrupts your thoughts. The one-hour time limit is almost up. There's only ten minutes left.
I don't have enough power to break through this wall.
The connection between my area and the others is blocked by rubble.
Is time almost up?
Scissors and paper, since my concentration was the lowest to start, I'll go first.
Result of this round: No. 5 is defeated.
So, we're all pretty much on even footing now?
Are you suggesting I have to take the risk next round?
Yeah, this way, we're safe for the next two hours...
Rabio places a chair on the table, using their combined height to reach the ventilation duct cover.
Then, he forcefully yanks it down.
The light from the ceiling is somewhat harsh on his eyes. Steadying himself, he climbs into the ventilation duct and starts moving toward the shadows ahead.
Fifty-five minutes later...
My draw is scissors and paper.
After a quick confirmation, the group finalizes their choices.
Result of this round: No. 1 is defeated.
As time passes, everyone grows noticeably quieter.
Any new findings?
Perhaps there is, but I need time to verify it.
The ceiling offers no other exits. If there were any, they're probably buried in the collapsed section of the wall, now overrun with the Punishing Virus, making it nearly impossible to find a way to other areas.
Each area has different environments—this game was never designed to be fair.
Nearby, Faulkner—the unpredictable, rogue Construct—has stopped trying to smash his way out for the past hour, the sudden quiet a rare reprieve from his earlier chaos.
And you have collected your thoughts in this brief moment of quiet.
As you close the notebook, a low, dull thud echoes in the air, catching your attention.
That's definitely not the sound of papers or books colliding.
Did you guys hear something?
Did the big Construct fall because he was throwing his weight around?
I'm okay.
The moment of truth might be pushed back, or it could come any second now.
Right, mine this round is scissors... and paper.
Same here.
Funny, mine too.
Scissors, and paper.
Collins' voice sounds a bit weaker now.
If everyone picks paper, no one loses this round.
Okay, I've made my choice.
Confirmation markers appear sequentially on the portraits.
No. 1: Paper No. 2: Paper No. 3: Scissors No. 4: Paper No. 5: Paper
Result of this round: No. 1, No. 2, No. 4, and No. 5 are defeated.
An unexpected situation occurs, with the red on the terminal screen becoming painfully bright.
Hey, Faulkner, what's your game?!
That was a gunshot.
I've heard that sound too many times. Whoever's using that gun is always tied to some damn corporation.
Faulkner is referring to Kurono.
Big guy, we're still talking, right? No one's been hurt.
If there were gunshots, wouldn't it be more likely coming from you, a war machine built for this kind of thing?
The conversation is now spiraling out of control.
Rabio, I'm about to tear your face off.
That's it, cooperation's over.
Silence follows.
Since we haven't figured anything out by round three, I'm out. Sorry, "Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes".
The two have likely shut down their communication channels.
Looks like that was just a temporary alliance.
This message comes through a private channel.
So, we're about to turn into each other's prey, "Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes"?
