The woman in uniform smiled slyly. “However,” she began, “I’ve just been thinking. Since Mr. Assassin has already revealed his identity, you wouldn’t mind us announcing your reward directly here, would you?”
Wilson shook his head, a polite smile gracing his lips. “Please, Miss,” he replied, “I don’t mind at all.”
“Very well then,” she continued. “Actually, Mr. Wilson, your target’s identity is… the Reporter.” As these words were uttered, everyone present harbored their own uneasy thoughts.
The Reporter’s rivals immediately concluded that the assassin was on their side. This meant that voting to eliminate the assassin would likely be impossible now.
Furthermore, revealing her own identity as the Reporter could lead to her rivals directly selling her out to the assassin. It seemed she was heading towards a dead end. The possibility of being voted out normally was slim; could winning the game be her only option?
The Quarantine Officer’s side, conversely, was certain the assassin wasn’t targeting them. Since the Reporter was, in a way, on their side, providing some cover would be acceptable.
The Infected’s side, conversely, inwardly rejoiced. This revelation would undoubtedly greatly hinder the Reporter’s actions, which was immensely beneficial to them. However, the Infected was unaware that, until now, this particular Reporter had been constantly strategizing how to get eliminated.
Returning to her room, she closed the door and sat on the bed, awaiting her reward.
A soft ‘click’ sounded, and the small screen in the room lit up. “Ms. Ye Menghan, your reward is quite simple: the Infected is a boy.” With that, the screen dimmed.
This was actually quite useful information, significantly reducing the time needed to gather intelligence. She no longer had to investigate female participants, saving considerable effort.
During the others’ active time, I didn’t attempt to spy. I suspected that if any of the Reporter’s rivals were active, they would undoubtedly be watching every door.
It was safe to say they held a direct execution in their hands; the moment the Reporter was exposed, their death was certain.
This time, my active period was from 4 to 5 AM. I had already been asleep when the voice of the woman in uniform from the screen woke me.
Still groggy from sleep, I stumbled out the door.
I returned to the third-floor entrance, gazing at the door. A faint suspicion stirred within me as I approached it.
Despite several attempts, the password remained incorrect, and I could only dejectedly return to my room. I refrained from searching the main hall, reasoning that everyone was still in a state of uncertainty, unaware of each other’s identities.
Thus, no one would deliberately do anything that might trigger elimination conditions.
Back in my room, the second night thus concluded. However, I had a premonition that today would certainly not end so simply.
Sure enough, just as I stepped into the main hall, Kane called me over. “Come, come, Little Jiang Yue,” he urged, “we’re just waiting for you now.”
I approached him with a bewildered expression, unsure of what he meant or why I was needed.
“The truth is,” Kane began again, “we’d like everyone to hand over their diaries for a fair exchange and mutual perusal. What do you all think?”
‘So that’s it,’ I thought. Naturally, despite the risk of exposure, I couldn’t refuse.
The more one refused, the more others would suspect their diary concealed something that would reveal their identity, making them even more determined to read it.
“No.” At that moment, the red-haired woman flatly refused. It was evident she didn’t agree with Kane’s proposal; she didn’t want anyone to see her diary.
“Why refuse?” someone asked. “We’re just exchanging them; what’s the big deal?” As I expected, everyone’s attention immediately turned to her.
“At worst,” the red-haired woman stammered, “I just won’t read any of yours. But there’s no way I’m letting you see my diary.” Her stance was firm, showing no inclination to compromise.
Everyone stared intently at the red-haired woman. Even Wilson narrowed his eyes, watching her dangerously.
“Could it be,” the blue-haired youth suddenly blurted out, “that *you* are the Reporter?” His words were startling, and upon hearing them, the red-haired woman’s whole body seemed to tremble.
Wilson’s gaze grew even colder, fixed directly on the red-haired woman.
The red-haired woman took two steps back, finally conceding. “V-very well then…”
‘How much better it would have been to agree earlier,’ she likely thought. Now, everyone would likely scrutinize the diaries meticulously, making the chance of her identity being discovered extremely high.
I watched the red-haired woman’s helpless expression and sighed. She was still lacking in experience, but perhaps it was for the best.
This effectively drew everyone’s attention away from me, further diminishing my presence. With this, the assassin would likely not notice me.