Chapter 2: Lying

The woman's scream suddenly stopped, freezing everyone in their tracks. The men who had been shouting curses moments before fell silent.  This was no longer about breaking the law; the bizarre figure before them was truly capable of murder. Over a minute of silence passed before the goat-headed figure gave a slight nod. "Very well, the nine of you. It seems you've all quieted down."  Faces blanched, but no one dared to speak. Indeed, there were now precisely nine of them. Ken extended a trembling hand to peel off a pinkish-yellow piece from his face. The shattered brain matter, still warm, throbbed for a moment before collapsing like a deflated balloon, lifeless. "Allow me to introduce myself." The goat-headed figure pointed to his mask with a bloodied finger and said, "I am Satyr, and you are the Participants." The crowd was puzzled by the terms Satyr mentioned. "You have been gathered here to partake in a game, to ultimately create a 'God,'" Satyr said calmly. His words made everyone frown.  They already knew this man was insane, yet this lunatic claimed he was going to create a "God"? "What kind of god?" a robust young man asked nervously. "An almighty god." Satyr gestured wildly, exuding a pungent odor, his voice tinged with ferocity. "Isn't it wonderful? You will witness history with me. God created humanity. We cannot lose God, so we must create another! A great task awaits God!" His voice rose as if invigorated. "God?" The young man furrowed his brow, finding it difficult to accept. He paused and asked, "Are you some kind of cult?" "We're bigger than any cult. We've got a world!" Satyr replied. The room fell silent once more. The young man's question was sharp; Satyr's actions were cult-like, but most cults invent new deities instead of using God's name. "If that's the case..." the young man continued, "what do you want us to participate in?" "As I said, it's just a game," Satyr replied without hesitation. "If you win, one of you becomes God." "Damn it..." muttered the tattooed man, who seemed to have calmed down, "Is this some 'Investiture of the Gods'? What if we can't win?" "If you can't win..." Satyr glanced at the blood on his hands, disappointed. "If you can't win, that's a real shame..." Though he didn't say it outright, everyone understood his implication. If they couldn't win, they would die. There was no way to make it out alive. They either became the God he spoke of or ended up like the young man whose head had burst. "If everyone understands what's happening, let the game officially begin. This game is called 'The Liar.'" Satyr slowly pulled a stack of papers from his pocket and casually distributed one to each person. Then, he handed out several pens. The table bore numerous bloodstains, and as each piece of white paper landed, it absorbed the red. A mere wipe turned the paper crimson as if painted. "Next, I want each of you to share the last thing that happened before you got here," Satyr continued, "But remember, one of you will be lying. After all nine stories are told, you must vote. If all eight of you pick the liar right, the liar's out, and the rest of you survive. If even one person is wrong, the liar survives, and the rest are out." "The liar?" The crowd was slightly confused. Would anyone truly lie in a life-and-death situation? "Hold on, can we talk strategy?" the robust young man suddenly asked. "Sure, go ahead." Satyr nodded. "You've got one minute to strategize before the game starts. Do you want to use it now... or later?" "I want to use it now," the young man immediately replied. "Go ahead." Satyr stepped back, distancing himself from the table.  The young man pursed his lips, then looked around at the others, carefully avoiding the headless corpse slumped over the table. "I don't know who's planning to lie, but this 'rule' is way too harsh. If even one person votes wrong, we all die. And even if we choose correctly, the liar dies. Either way, someone dies. But I've got a plan so we can all survive..." The crowd turned their attention to the young man. Was it possible for everyone to survive? "Here's the deal; we all tell the truth," the young man revealed his plan before anyone could fully grasp it. "All nine of us tell the truth, and at the end, we write 'No one lied' on the paper. This doesn't violate the rules, and we all survive." A man in a lab coat tapped the table with his fingers before speaking. "Your plan is good, but there's a premise: you're not the liar. Why should we trust you? If you are the liar, and we all write 'No one lied,' you'll be the only one who survives." "What are you saying?" The young man looked angry. "If I were the liar, why would I propose such a plan? I only need to save myself." Satyr waved his hand slightly. "The minute is up. Please stop discussing." The two men snorted and fell silent. "Now, please draw a card." Satyr pulled a small deck of cards from his pocket. The poker-sized cards bore the words [The Game of Gods] on the back. The young man hesitated. "What are these?" "These are 'identity cards.'" Satyr laughed. "If you draw 'Liar,' you must lie." The young man gritted his teeth. "Are you toying with us?! Why didn't you mention this rule earlier?!" "It's a lesson for you." Satyr sneered. "I hadn't finished explaining the rules when you asked if you could discuss strategy. You wasted a precious minute, not me." The young man's face darkened, but he swallowed his anger, wary of Satyr's murderous methods. All nine had drawn a card in a minute, but no one dared to look. If the card read "Liar," it became a question of one's survival over others. The women's hands trembled slightly, and the men's expressions were grim. They weren't drawing "identities" but "life or death." Ken took a deep breath, casually flipping his card into view. It read "Liar."