I returned to my room, picked up my diary, and scrutinized it for a long time, yet I truly couldn’t discern anything particularly unusual.
My diary entry read as follows:
‘July Thirteenth, Sunny’
‘Today, I was forced to come to this villa, yet I know nothing!’
‘They are all speaking in terms I don’t understand. It feels like two hidden factions are locked in a struggle. What should I do? I can’t die, I don’t want to die. Should I pretend to be on one of their sides, or declare that I know nothing, or perhaps…’
‘But, what if the other side finds out? Will I die? So, what exactly am I supposed to do?!’
That was the entirety of the diary entry—brief, yet laden with potential meanings.
The diary itself was written from the perspective of an unwitting bystander. On the surface, if one had to categorize the role, it would be that of a Gatekeeper.
Knowing the true circumstances, however, I naturally understood other implications. Firstly, the mention of ‘two factions’ clearly suggested that this person was privy to some information, and that this information was their very reason for being here.
Secondly, the fact that this person only seemed aware of ‘two factions’ implied they didn’t know their Rivals would return, which is why they came to this place.
One particular line, however, stirred a slight unease within me, like a ticking bomb: ‘But, what if the other side finds out? Will I die?’ It felt as though it hinted at something deeper…
Still, I had no choice but to push forward. I refused to believe they could glean all the hidden information from these scant few words.
I certainly couldn’t. Without a prior conclusion, I could only admit that I couldn’t fully analyze any of it.
Frankly, the diary entries were ambiguous, open to any interpretation. Perhaps they were even intended as a diversion, an auxiliary tool to obscure the opponents’ vision.
When I finally reached the grand hall, everyone had moved from the coffee table and was now gathered around a dining table. Clutching my diary, I slowly approached them and found a seat in a quiet corner.
Kane, the middle-aged man, clapped his hands. “Alright, everyone, please place your diaries on the table now,” he announced to all those seated around the dining table.
I took out my diary and placed it on the table, my peripheral vision fixed on the killer. As I watched him, a strikingly audacious thought suddenly bloomed in my mind: ‘What if… I just clobbered him?’
After carefully considering the chances of success, it wasn’t entirely impossible. Although his combat prowess far exceeded mine, a surprise attack, one he couldn’t guard against, should have a decent success rate, right?
However, weighing the consequences of failure, I decided to put this perilous idea aside for now. I would save it for when I was truly desperate.
With all the diaries now laid out on the table, Kane stated, “Everyone, feel free to pick up any diary you wish to read. Once you’re finished, place it back, and we’ll continue until everyone has read them all.”
As they each took the diaries they wanted to read, I prepared to retrieve the last remaining one, only to discover… they were all gone.
I glanced around, instantly understanding the reason. Wilson, the killer, had not even taken his own diary, yet he was intently engrossed in reading mine.
To say I wasn’t flustered would be a lie, but I figured he wouldn’t discern anything significant.
Indeed, after reading for a while, he tossed my diary onto the table with an air of boredom. He then took someone else’s diary from Kane’s hands.
Kane could only offer a wry smile; how could he possibly argue with a man who held the power of life and death?
Only after everyone else had finished reading did I finally get my hands on the first diary.
‘July Thirteenth, Sunny’
‘My friend told me they were taking me to a wonderful place, saying I’d be absolutely thrilled.’
‘Then my friend brought me to this inexplicable place. Honestly, I don’t see what’s so great about being somewhere you can’t leave.’
‘And then, they actually told me people would die! My god, who knows what my friend was thinking, dragging me to a place like this? I absolutely despise them now.’
After finishing this diary, I felt I could glean a few insights. Firstly, the mention of a ‘friend’ indicated that this person had an ally.
Secondly, their friend said they would be ‘thrilled’ to come here, which implied there was something here they deeply desired.
This suggested two possibilities: either a Quarantine Officer or a Rival. Given the context of ‘thrilled,’ it leaned more towards a Rival, as isn’t eliminating a foe a cause for great satisfaction?
Interpreting this diary through the lens of a Rival seemed quite logical.
I silently formed my conclusions, then set the diary down, pressing against my throbbing temples. Analyzing these intricate details was genuinely giving me a headache.