i shall win this game!

The lunatic, after mentally torturing them, walked up to the table. What he saw was: one passed out, another hiding behind the table, and the remaining two drenched in urine. He sighed in exhilaration, as if he had saved a life.

He first strolled over to Ali, who was hiding behind the table, too scared to open his eyes. As Ali kept his eyes tightly shut in fear, he felt a breath near him. "My dear Ali, don't be so scared. It's me, Samuel," said the voice.

"Please, I'm sorry! Let me live; I'll do anything," Ali pleaded in a begging tone.

The lunatic snorted in annoyance. "Then open your eyes if you want to live," he muttered close to Ali's ear.

Ali slowly opened his eyes, believing that disobedience would mean certain death—which was true. If he hadn't opened his eyes, the lunatic would have likely strangled him.

What Ali saw was the lunatic with his psychotic buzzcut, madness crackling behind those eyes, looking down at him as the lunatic said, "Wake up your friend and sit down."

Ali, compelled by the terror's command, walked over to Milan, who was sprawled on the ground as if making snow angels, saliva sliding from his mouth.

Milan's brain had simply shut down, like a defense mechanism against the terror brought by the lunatic.

After a few slaps and a kick, Milan finally jolted awake from his unconscious state. The first thing on his agenda was to look left and right, searching for the psychopath, but to his surprise, he didn't see him. "Thank God he left," Milan thought.

To his horror, the lunatic was actually right behind him, shushing Ali as if he were playing a prank. "Hello, piss boy," the lunatic said, placing his hands on Milan's shoulders.

Milan, frozen in terror, just stared straight ahead, as if trying to mimic a statue. "Are you trying to act like a statue? Ahahaha!" the lunatic laughed, biting his lower lip. "I like you, Milan," the lunatic said as he placed his veiny hands on Milan's neck. "What if I go lower? Are you going to move?" the lunatic asked, staring into Milan's eyes with his dark, black gaze, as if he were the abyss itself.

In the next moment, the lunatic lowered his hands to Milan's chest, but there was no reaction. Smirking, he went even lower, down to Milan's crotch. That was when Milan finally cracked.

"Stop, you f**king creep!" Milan shouted with pure rage. It seemed he was finally fed up with being toyed with by the lunatic.

"There's no way you can actually kill us since the supervisor said you'd explain the rules. So, where are the rules?" Milan explained and asked, his eyes glaring at the lunatic.

In Ali's mind, a light bulb flashed as he finally understood that the lunatic couldn't kill them. His confidence was restored, and he stared at the lunatic with newfound determination.

"It seems like we got a smart one here," the lunatic said in a smirking tone as he pointed to the chairs. "Fine, I'll tell you the rules, you ungrateful brat."

Milan stared at him; he truly was a psycho if he thought they should be grateful to him.

"What should we be grateful to you for? Torturing us?" Milan asked.

"You should thank me for getting your mind ready, because the game that's coming up will terrorize you even more than I did," the lunatic explained.

"Why should we believe you?" Milan asked.

"Just go and sit down," the lunatic said in a bored manner. He hated the ones who found the hole in his behavior. He had no advantage over them now, so he might as well proceed with the game.

After sitting down at the table, Milan looked at Samuel and Ann. It seemed like they had calmed down after hearing what he said. Ann appeared fine, but if one looked closer, she was clearly embarrassed that she had pissed herself.

After all, she was the oldest of the four, and ignoring what the supervisor said, along with being frightened to the point of disregarding logic, embarrassed her quite a bit.

Samuel also looked fine, but it was obvious that the shock from the lunatic's actions had affected him. He had come close to dying, but he also seemed strangely rejuvenated. After all, having been so close to the gates of death and coming back would definitely make someone less afraid of death.

The one to break the silence was the lunatic, as he took out a white clipboard and began reading out the game and its rules.

"The game will be a question-and-answer game, with an emphasis on yes or no answers. If you lie, the person who is brought out afterward will face a punishment of some kind. The rules are simple: answer honestly, or someone will suffer the consequences.

That's it? All we have to do is answer honestly?" The squad of four thought. That seemed way too easy—well, of course it would be easy if they used logic. The reason the lunatic terrorized them was because the game was simple, but not long enough for him to fully unleash his act of mentally demolishing them.

They were snapped out of their thoughts as the lunatic lifted his veiny right hand and said, "Bring the subject in." On the other side of the pristine white room, the wall seemingly opened, revealing two people in masks carrying a man strapped to a gurney. The man was completely covered in bandages; not even his hair could be seen.

After a while of dragging the bandaged man closer to the table, they left, binding him to the ground, with his gurney still standing upright.

The lunatic then took something out of his pocket—it was a cube. After clicking a red button on it, the cube made a whoosh sound as it enlarged to the size of a bulldog. The lunatic checked if it worked properly before saying, "I hate torturing people."

From the top of the cube, a dusty smoke rose, and it seemed to say, Lie.

"Seems like it works just fine," he said as he placed the enchanting green and red cube in the middle of the table.

The lunatic then walked beside Samuel, turning to the page of questions on his clipboard as he said, "let the game begin," in an impatient tone.

He looked at Samuel and said, "Have you ever jerked off in the company of someone?" Samuel turned pale, and the others looked at him with judging eyes. In the following moment, he sighed and said in a voice filled with regret, "Yes." The cube in the middle began to glow before releasing smoke, and the smoke declared, "Truth." The rest of the group stared at him with disgust, especially Ann, but what could he do? He had to tell the truth, or else the man in the gurney would be punished.

Next, he looked at Ann. "Would you kill your boss in the company you work at for benefits?" Ann absently stared at the cube in the middle of the table as she said, "No." The cube began to release smoke and declared, "Lie." "The subject shall receive a punishment," the lunatic said. Ann was bewildered. "No, I don't want to kill him! Why would I kill him? You're rigging it!"

"I didn't rig it. The cube reads both your logic and emotions," the lunatic replied.

Ann tried to calm herself. If it's my emotions that triggered it, then I need to stay calm.

The thing is, Ann was actually right—the lunatic had rigged the game by turning off the logic setting and intentionally setting it to emotions, ensuring her reaction would be judged in an unfair way.

"Now then, let's start with the punishment," the lunatic said in an energized voice as he looked toward the floor. Bending down, he swiped his hand across the floor, revealing a hidden plank beneath it. It was filled with rusty nails. As he walked toward the bandaged man, the lunatic licked the nails and said, "Oh, this is gonna hurt," to the man in bandages.

The man obviously couldn't respond, since he was covered in bandages and couldn't even open his mouth.

The squad looked at the plank with a sense of danger, as if it were a belt from when their parents beat them. Especially Ali, who looked at it that way.

The lunatic walked closer to the man, until he was a step away. The man couldn't tell what was happening, but he felt something was wrong. It was like a beast stalking you in the forest—you didn't know how, but it felt as though something was following you. The man twitched uncomfortably, causing the gurney to shake with his movements, but it was in vain. All he could do was wriggle like a worm, helpless, until the strike came. The lunatic lifted the plank, his hands holding it as though it were a baby, and brought it down like an executioner's sword. The nails dug deep into the man's body, the rust from them poisoning his blood.

The man seemingly stopped moving, but one could hear a faint howl, almost nonexistent, the pain so gruesome. The man could see death looming over his shoulder, but it seemed he was meant to live a little longer. Tears filled his eyes as he remembered his family waiting for him at home. He had a loving daughter whom he cherished so much, but now he wouldn't see her grow up. His wife loved him just as he loved her, a seemingly perfect relationship, but it was not meant to be, as fate had brought him here. He hated fate. It seemed he was fated to die here, forever doomed to never see his daughter grow up.

The squad seemed to cry for some reason. It looked like the man was in deep pain and regret. It was like a human crying for a dog whose life span had run out. The logic was that it was supposed to happen, but their emotions couldn't help but cry.

They didn't know this person, but they couldn't help but tear up as if their mother had died. It was truly a spiritual situation. Even the lunatic was quiet, watching the squad in confusion, since he never knew these emotions.