An old tungsten filament lamp hung from a black wire in the center of the room, flickering with a dim glow.
The tranquil atmosphere spread through the space like ink dripping into clear water, seeping into every corner.
In the middle of the room stood a large, worn-out round table, its surface mottled with age. At its center was an ornate little clock, its intricate engravings catching the dim light as it ticked steadily.
Around the table sat ten people dressed in various outfits, their clothes ragged and their faces smudged with dust.
Some slumped over the table, others leaned back in their chairs—all of them fast asleep.
Beside them stood a man wearing a goat-head mask and dressed in a black suit.
His gaze pierced through the cracked mask, watching the ten with keen interest.
The clock on the table chimed as both the hour and minute hands aligned at **”twelve.”**
From somewhere far beyond the room, a deep bell tolled.
At the same moment, the ten men and women seated around the table slowly stirred awake.
As they regained consciousness, they first looked around in confusion, then at each other with uncertainty.
None of them seemed to remember how they had gotten here.
**”Good morning, nine of you,”** the Goat Head spoke first, his voice smooth. **”I’m delighted to meet you here. You’ve been asleep before me for twelve hours.”**
The man’s bizarre appearance startled everyone under the dim light.
His mask looked as if it were made from a real goat’s head—its fur yellowed, blackened, and matted in places.
Two hollowed-out eye sockets revealed his cunning gaze.
His every movement carried the musky stench of a goat, mixed with a faint, rotting odor.
A man with a full-sleeve tattoo stared for a few seconds before finally realizing the absurdity of the situation. Hesitantly, he asked, **”Who… are you?”**
**”I’m sure you all have that question,”** the Goat Head replied cheerfully, waving his hands as if he had rehearsed this moment. **”Allow me to introduce myself to the nine of you.”**
A young man named **Qi Xia**, seated farthest from the Goat Head, quickly assessed the room. Within moments, his expression darkened.
*Something’s off… This room is all wrong.*
There was no door—just four solid walls.
In other words, the entire space was sealed, with no way in or out, yet a table sat right in the middle.
*How did we even get here?*
*Did they bring us in first and then build the walls afterward?*
Qi Xia glanced around again. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all crisscrossed with lines, dividing the surfaces into large squares.
Another detail nagged at him—the Goat Head had referred to them as **”nine.”**
But no matter how he counted, there were **ten** people around the table. Including the Goat Head, that made **eleven** in the room.
*What did he mean by “nine”?*
He reached into his pocket—unsurprisingly, his phone was gone.
**”We don’t need an introduction,”** a cold woman suddenly spoke, her voice sharp. **”I suggest you stop whatever this is immediately. I suspect you’ve held us captive for over twenty-four hours, which constitutes unlawful imprisonment. Every word you say will be recorded and used against you.”**
As she spoke, she brushed dust off her arms with visible disdain, as if being dirty bothered her more than being kidnapped.
Her words sobered the others. Whoever this Goat Head was, kidnapping **ten** people single-handedly was undeniably a crime.
**”Wait…”** A middle-aged man in a white lab coat interrupted, his tone steady but pointed. **”We just woke up. How do you know we’ve been imprisoned for ‘twenty-four hours’?”**
The woman calmly pointed to the clock.
**”That clock says it’s twelve. I have a habit of staying up late—the last time I checked the time at home, it was already midnight. That means we’ve been held for at least twelve hours.”**
Then she gestured at the walls.
**”You’ve all noticed there’s no door. That means whoever brought us here went to great lengths to seal us in. He said we’ve been asleep for twelve hours, and now the clock is at twelve again—that’s at least two full rotations. So yes, I suspect it’s been over twenty-four hours. Any objections?”**
The man in the white coat stared at her, suspicion lingering in his eyes.
*She’s too composed for someone in this situation.*
*Would a normal person react this calmly to being kidnapped?*
A muscular young man in a black T-shirt finally asked, **”Goat Head, why did you say ‘nine’ when there are ten of us?”**
The Goat Head remained silent.
**”Rot in hell! I don’t care how many people are here—”** the tattooed man suddenly snarled, slamming his hands on the table as he tried to stand. But his legs gave out beneath him. He could only point a shaky finger at the Goat Head. **”Dang it! You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. I swear, I’ll kill you for this.”**
His words stirred a grim resolve among the men. If they could overpower the Goat Head together, they might still regain control.
But then they realized—none of them could move their legs. It was as if something had been injected into them, sapping their strength.
The tattooed man could only continue shouting threats.
Qi Xia stayed silent, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he studied the clock.
*This isn’t as simple as it seems.*
He realized the Goat Head had referred to **”nine participants.”** If there were ten people here, that meant **one of them wasn’t a participant.**
*Then who is he?*
The room held six men and four women. Was one of them the **real kidnapper?**
The Goat Head finally moved, stepping behind one of the seated figures—a young man whose face, though dirty, bore a strangely blissful smile.
Slowly, the Goat Head raised a hand and placed it on the back of the young man’s head.
The young man’s grin widened unnaturally, his eyes flickering with excitement, as if he already knew what was coming.
Then—
***THUD.***
The Goat Head slammed the young man’s skull into the table with brutal force.
A sickening **crunch** echoed through the room as bone shattered like brittle glass.
Pinkish-white matter splattered across the table like spilled paint, flecking everyone’s faces with droplets of blood.
The young man’s head had been **crushed** in a single blow.
Outside, the distant bell tolled again.
Qi Xia, sitting closest to the corpse, felt something warm and sticky cling to his cheek.
Even with his strong nerves, he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling.
A woman to the dead man’s right froze for three seconds before her face twisted in horror. Then she screamed—a raw, piercing sound that shattered the last remnants of composure in the room.
That scream tore through their remaining sanity.
*What kind of person could smash a human skull against a table with bare hands?*
*Was the Goat Head even human?*
His frail body shouldn’t have been capable of such monstrous strength.
The Goat Head finally spoke, his voice eerily calm:
**”The reason there were ten of you… was so that one could be used to make the rest listen.”**
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