Chapter 3: The Skilled One

"Liar..." Ken repeated the word several times, confirming his identity before discreetly covering his card. Just a minute ago, he had entertained the fantasy of "everyone getting out alive." But now, everything had changed. Although he didn't know the eight people in front of him, this time, they were the ones who had to die. "If no one objects, please remember the rule: 'There is only one liar in this game.'" Satyr pointed to the alluring girl on Ken's left. "Then, let's start with you and go clockwise." "Huh? Me?" The girl was taken aback, then pouted. Ken glanced over. Starting with the girl on his left and going clockwise wasn't to his advantage. He would end up being the last to speak. In tense and high-pressure situations, people tend only to remember the first and last speaker. But objecting now would be too conspicuous, so he decided to play it by ear. The alluring girl frowned, her large eyes darting around before she finally sighed and said, "Alright. I'll go first, but I've never been good at storytelling, so if I mess up, don't blame me." The group fell silent, unsure what to say, and listened closely. The alluring girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with slender fingers and began, "My name is Kourtney, and I'm... uh... a skilled worker. We make money with our skills, and I'm not ashamed of it." Only then did everyone notice that she was wearing very little—a dirty, low-cut mini dress that barely covered anything. But she didn't seem to care at all. "Most of my stories aren't fit to share. Let's just say I can be active, but I'm not sure how to describe my work. I wouldn't be in this line of work if I were more educated." "So before I came here, I was working. The client I met was really bizarre. Even though our place offers a venue, he insisted on going to his car, saying it would be more exciting. So I went along for the money." "It was my first time working in a car. Though it looked high-end, it was so cramped inside. I was sweating in no time. I didn't see what was exciting about it, especially with his phone ringing off the hook and his refusing to answer. It drove me mad..." Kourtney seemed to want to rant more about the client, but her gaze accidentally fell on the corpse on the table, making her shudder. She took a deep breath and said, "Anyway, I chose this industry and accepted it. I just didn't expect there to be an earthquake. At first, I thought it was just us being too vigorous, but it turned out to be real." At the mention of the earthquake, everyone's expression shifted slightly as if recalling something. "Our car was parked in an alley under a big billboard. I was sticking my head out of the car when I saw it." Kourtney gestured above her head, her voice trembling. "The massive billboard suddenly broke and fell onto the car. I lost consciousness." She exhaled deeply and said, "I found myself here when I woke up. I was scared to death." Kourtney put on a pouty face, clearly practiced to evoke sympathy from men. The tattooed man sitting beside her hesitated momentarily and said, "Do we need to continue?" The man in the lab coat was surprised and looked at him. "What do you mean?" "This lady has already lied; we can start voting now," the tattooed man declared confidently. "You... What do you mean?" Kourtney was startled. "Since when did I lie?" The tattooed man shot a cold glance at her and said, "Your name. You said your name is Kourtney, but all hostesses use aliases. Names like Kourtney, Lily, and Mary are very common. You've concealed your real name, so you've lied." As he finished speaking, Kourtney's face flushed with anger. "You... you're talking nonsense! My name is Kourtney! I haven't used my real name in years!" She glanced around and added, "Only Kourtney will get you to me at my workplace. No one would recognize my real name!" The group began to ponder, and Ken's expression turned serious. From Kourtney's story, Ken couldn't detect any signs of lying. Her narrative was smooth and conversational, like chatting with a friend. This could mean two things: either she had rehearsed the story countless times, or she was telling the truth. But the tattooed man offered another perspective: "lying about one's name." Lying about a name didn't require logic or coherence, making it hard to spot. After all, everyone here was a stranger, and names were only known through self-introduction. Ken recalled Satyr's words. "Among all storytellers, one is lying." The rule didn't specify that the lie had to be a false story; a false name would suffice. When she realized she was being doubted, Kourtney's eyes widened with anxiety. "If you still don't believe me, my real name is Kaley Zorn. I'm from Jaston. You can try calling me by my real name, but I won't respond. I'll only answer to Kourtney... I... I..." Hearing this, Ken shook his head silently. This woman wasn't as clever as he had imagined. She couldn't have crafted this lie in advance or thought of the "name deception" strategy on the spot. Satyr said, "There is only one liar," which could only be Ken himself. If no one else noticed the significance of Kourtney's alias, then he had found a surefire way to win. When fabricating a name, "Quinn" wasn't the best choice. Although not rare, it wasn't common either, making it memorable. In other words, everything he said should attract as little attention as possible. So he decided to call himself "Liam Lynch." He could tell the rest of his story normally, and no one, no matter how clever, would spot the flaw. The game was about to end.