i shall win this game!

The lunatic kept watching the squad, trying desperately to understand these emotions, but he simply couldn't. Why would I cry for a man who's about to die? Empathy eluded him, despite his efforts to comprehend it. His eyes gleamed with madness as he tossed the blood-covered plank aside.

"Everyone, listen up!" he shouted. "You're all pathetic, crying for a man you've never even met. I want one of you to kill this pathetic rat. If you don't, I'll kill one of your family members." It was almost as if he were throwing a tantrum, dooming lives as casually as sweeping crumbs from a table.

The squad shivered in fear at the thought of their family members being killed. They hated this lunatic to their very core. He thought he had everything in the palm of his hand, commanding everyone as he pleased.

"No! We're tired of your games! We want to go home, you f**king psycho!" they shouted, rebelling against him.

The shout echoed in the mirror-like room as the lunatic burst into a fit of rage. He hated being called a psycho. To him, he was a free man—free from worldly affairs and pleased to do as he wished.

In the next moment, the lunatic huffed in anger as he bent down toward his ankle to retrieve a revolver. It seemed real, but the squad, of course, didn't believe it this time.

"We already know this trick, psycho," they ridiculed him.

The lunatic looked at each of them before aiming the gun at Ali, who was visibly shaken but still believed it was just a bubble gun.

Boom.

The lunatic shot Ali right in the shoulder, and Ali fell off his chair from the impact of the bullet.

"Was that fake, Ali?" the lunatic said, laughing and jumping around with the gun.

The others quickly hid under the table. Milan whispered, "Should we attack him?"

"No, he has a gun. We have to cooperate for now," Ann immediately replied, turning down the suggestion.

"So you're telling us that we have to kill the man?" Samuel said.

"Do we have a choice? If we don't go along with it, one of our family members will die," Ann responded.

"What if he's bluffing?" Milan said.

"That's a stretch. It seems we've really riled him up," Ann replied.

"Do you remember the supervisor said this is a game, and he obviously can't kill us since that would mean the game would end? But if he kills one of our family members, we'll refuse to participate in the game. I think he's acting on his own, without the supervisor's agreement."

"I don't want to kill the man. I think we should go with your plan," Milan said.

"I agree too," Ann said after some contemplation.

"Okay then, I'll get up first. Ann, you check on Ali," Samuel said as Ann nodded her head.

The room reverberated with loud bangs as the lunatic fired the gun all over the room. He stopped once he saw Sam and the rest standing up. He saw Ann rushing to help Ali, which he let slide, while Milan and Sam stared at him.

"So, do you accept my offer?" the lunatic said in an exhausted tone, tired after all that jumping around like a monkey.

"No," they said at the same time in a robotic voice, their hands raised in surrender.

"You think I'm bluffing, huh? You think I'm just a joke?" the lunatic said, kneeling on the ground, almost crying. It seemed like he really didn't like when somebody toyed with him the same way he toyed with them.

He looked at the ceiling with a melancholic expression and said, "Turn it on."

Boom!

A loud bang echoed throughout the room, startling Ann as she looked up from bandaging Ali's shoulder with the cloth she had torn from her shirt. What she saw was a huge panel descending from the ceiling, stopping halfway down. Shattering her thoughts was a voice that said, "Turn it on," which, of course, came from the lunatic.

Instantly, a light shone from the ground onto the panel. In the following moments, four sections appeared on the panel, arranged in squares.

What could be seen were a kid playing with toys on the floor, a man smoking a cigarette while rocking in his chair, a girl playing with some strange device that played music, and a teenager playing a game on his phone.

Ann instantly recognized the man smoking a cigarette—it was her own twin brother, which made her glare at the lunatic. "Do you have no remorse for human life, you pathetic trash?" she said, hitting the table, almost spitting.

Ali, with a bandaged shoulder, also looked at the panel in pure grimace. "Brother," he muttered, but he quickly stopped, wincing as his shoulder hurt.

The atmosphere was murky as everybody stared at the panel. Samuel's consciousness felt terrible, knowing it was his fault for bringing up the plan. Sadly for him, it didn't matter what plan he thought of. The only rule was not to kill the contestants; the lunatic could do anything he wanted. All of them were dancing in the palms of the supervisor and the obnoxious being. All for some simple fun—people would die.

"You're bluffing. It's only a video that you could have recorded to traumatize us," Milan said in pure helplessness. He really didn't want to kill the man. He racked his brain, trying to think of ways to get out of this situation, but there were none, and he knew it.

The lunatic looked at him, and with a sly smile, said, "Do it." On the plate, a red light was visible on each of their heads.

"Do you think I'm still bluffing?" the lunatic said, his voice dripping with ridicule.

Milan dropped to his knees as he looked at the red light shining onto his brother's tender head. One mistake, and his brother would die. His brother was innocent, no older than six years old. His life had just begun, and the wonder of life still hadn't started for him.

"I have to do it. I have to. It's not my fault; it's the lunatic's fault. That's right, Milan. All you have to do is end his misery. That's right. The man has been in deep torture for a while now. I should help him out of his pain," Milan thought, racking his brain, trying to find the moral justification.

Samuel was just staring lifelessly at the ground; it looked like he couldn't even conceive what was happening. Ann was in the same spot as Milan. She was the oldest of the four, so she couldn't possibly put it on the others, but she couldn't do it. Her innocence stopped her. It was almost like the world was telling her not to. For her whole life, she had been indecisive, which was why she worked at a job she hated. The only thing keeping her going was her family.

Milan stood up, like a zombie; a gust of wind could knock him over. As he looked around, he saw Ann deciding if she should do it, Ali unconscious from trying to stand up, and Samuel standing there like a robot without batteries.

He walked toward the lunatic, his mind steeled with determination. Nothing could stand in his way.

"Give me the gun," he demanded.

The lunatic excitedly handed him the gun, as if giving him a toy to play with.

Gun in hand, Milan walked toward the man in bandages. The poor man was still howling, as if calling for help. Sadly, the only thing coming for him was death—the executioner.

The man knew someone was there, almost like a sixth sense, so he tried his hardest to lift his hand, which he did with success. But as he tried to open his eyes—

Boom!

The gunshot echoed throughout the room. The sound wasn't apocalyptic, but one that brought salvation.

The man was finally freed from his misery. In his mind was the regret of not seeing his wife and daughter to the last moment. He truly loved them. A bullet embedded in his forehead. Death came and left with the prize.

It was done. The rest of the squad looked at Milan with nothing but admiration. Also, in their minds, was how pathetic they truly were. All of them just sat there like turtles while Milan went ahead and hunted for them.

"The first game is officially done. Well done," the supervisor said.

All of them had melancholic expressions, but they also felt relieved that it finally ended, while the lunatic just snorted in anger. It seemed like he truly was the incarnation of wrath.

In the following moment, gas poured out of the holes in the floor. The squad quickly let the gas consume them and fell unconscious.

Milan woke up back inside the yellow room to a voice addressed to him.

"I'm sorry, Milan," Ann said.

"It's not your fault. Somebody had to do it," Milan responded in a tranquil voice.

"I'm sorry too," Ali and Samuel said at the same time.

"It's fine, guys," Milan responded, but his expression was far from that. It looked like he had seen his own mother murdered in cold blood.

Ann stood up after seeing that expression and walked toward Milan, who confusedly looked at what she was trying to do. As she stood in front of him, she suddenly hugged him.

"I'm sorry that I left it to you. I'm the oldest; I'm pathetic," Ann said, crying on his shoulder.

Samuel and Ali also walked toward them and joined in the group hug, all of them crying in each other's embrace, snot falling on their shoulders.

On New Year's, the squad of four people steeled their brotherhood with blood and tears. This signified the destruction of the obnoxious being.