Scheduled death

Chapter 3: The Last Supper

After seeing the identity cards, Jasmine silently organized the information she obtained:

No.8: Has an identity

No.2: Divine role

No.13: Civilian

No.1: Has an identity; suspected werewolf

No.12: Has an identity

No.11: Werewolf

"Has an identity" means that the player has a role other than being a civilian.

"Suspected" means inferring what role a player might have, with some bias, but not necessarily accurate, subject to further discussion.

She firmly confirmed the roles of No.2, No.13, and No.11 based on their micro-expressions.

No.2 showed clear happiness, practically broadcasting "I am the divine role" on his face.

No.13, an experienced player, likely desired a powerful role or the advantageous werewolf role, as indicated by his sigh of genuine disappointment.

Although Jasmine didn't observe No.11's immediate reaction, his subsequent behavior was stiff. Despite a smile on his lips, his eyes lacked joy, consistent with his earlier lack of confidence.

The unsuccessful attempt to mask emotions after receiving the identity card suggested a higher likelihood of being the werewolf's role.

As for the remaining three players, Jasmine's deductions were preliminary and required further observation.

"Your expression looks stiff, No.11. Did you not get a good card?" teased No.10, the girl with the ponytail.

Upon hearing this, No.11's expression darkened. "It's because you guys just said the werewolf card was better, so I indeed didn't get a good card."

Seeing No.11's composed response, No.10 didn't press further and turned to No.2, saying, "You seem quite happy, No.2!"

While Jasmine maintained a calm exterior, inwardly, she found the situation amusing. She hadn't expected this level of probing from the young girl.

Just as No.2 was about to respond cheerfully, a clear and composed female voice broke the eerie atmosphere.

"Dear guests, hello! Welcome to the village of Bert. I am Tia."

Approaching gracefully, Tia was a young woman with a beautiful face, dressed in medieval attire. However, unlike the others, she wore a civilian-style light purple front-buttoned dress.

With a white linen hat, a deep purple hooded cloak, black silk stockings embroidered with gold thread on the sides, and spotless low-heeled leather shoes, she stood gracefully on the cobblestone road.

"It is currently 4:30 PM. Bert cordially invites you to dinner at 5:00 PM in the dining hall. Please do not be late."

Although Tia's expression was indifferent, her message was delivered without waiting for a response before she turned and left.

Rubbing her chin, Jasmine pondered. Tia seemed to be an NPC-like presence, but something about her felt off. She watched Tia's departing figure for a long time, sensing a lack of reverence in her demeanor.

It wasn't until Tia was about to disappear from sight that everyone abruptly came to their senses.

No.13 hurriedly urged, "Let's go, there's only half an hour left, hurry up!"

Thirteen people followed Tia into the village.

Jasmine, however, was not in a hurry. She lagged behind at the end of the queue, adopting a relaxed posture as she strolled leisurely.

Appearing to casually admire the surroundings, she was actually observing the people:

For example, No.2 confidently led the group with No.11 following closely behind, attempting to engage him in conversation.

For example, No.5 walked closely with No.4 and No.6.

For example, No.10 and No.13 were conversing with No.3, attracting the attention of No.1 nearby.

And then there was No.12, who kept a distance from the group, walking alone.

Then there was No.9, who remained independent, untouched by the dust, radiating solitary beauty.

As for why there were so many adjectives for him, Jasmine could only shake her head and sigh. It was because she, too, was just an ordinary person, inevitably susceptible to superficiality, drawn to good looks.

Then she noticed someone was missing. Where was No.8?

"No.7, are you looking for me?" came No.8's voice from behind her.

"...," Jasmine turned back, speechless. "Do you know that scaring people can scare them to death?"

No.8 quickly took a few steps forward, leaning in to say, "Huh? I thought I was following you all along. You knew that, right?"

"Well, now I do."

Throughout the journey, it was No.8 who kept talking incessantly, while Jasmine pondered silently, occasionally nodding in agreement.

From his unconscious behavior and verbal expressions, she felt that this young man might also be an experienced player. His relaxed demeanor and lack of nervousness indicated as much. And his focus seemed to be on the ugliness of clothes...

Though she understood why he avoided discussions about the game's identity cards, his enthusiastic attitude left her puzzled.

Just like now, when he had nothing to say.

"I've never played this game before. Will the werewolves come out to kill every night?" he asked.

Casually glancing around, she responded, "I don't know. I've never played a live-action game either."

"Oh, will we get hints when we go to the dining hall? And then we..." No.8 tilted his head, contemplating the next topic, reminiscent of a curious child.

Seeing everyone already entering the building ahead, Jasmine pointed ahead, interrupting No.8's incessant chatter.

"We're here."

No.8's eyes lit up as he hurriedly walked towards the dining hall.

Jasmine thought to herself: He's probably just a chatterbox, looking for someone to talk to.

Then, as No.8 looked back and saw she hadn't caught up, he retraced his steps to her side, reminding her, "Hurry, time's running out."

As they entered the dining hall, they found it already filled with people, leaving only the two of them standing at the entrance.

As the others heard the door opening, they all turned their gaze towards them.

The layout of the tables resembled the atmosphere of a face-to-face battle in Werewolf, only in a medieval style. Each person's table had a pale purple crystal ball with a prominent serial number.

"No.7, No.8, you're late. Come in quickly. Seats are assigned according to the numbers. Yours are over here," said No.5, breaking the silence.

The two exchanged a glance and walked to their designated seats.

"Now that everyone is here and there's still ten minutes left, can we communicate a bit more?" No.3, a middle-aged man, spoke up, breaking the silence.

No.2 scoffed, "What's there to communicate about? This game is just about the divine role leading the team, and we vote to eliminate the werewolf every day."

"That sounds nice, but we don't have any clues now," No.10 said to No.2 with a look of disdain.

"What do you mean, no clues? These two, No.7 and No.8, came so late. Weren't we all supposed to leave together? Now they're just arriving. Isn't that suspicious?" No.2 looked at Jasmine and No.8, his gaze probing.

Upon hearing this, everyone's gaze turned towards the two of them.

Jasmine frowned slightly, feeling a bit annoyed at being unfairly targeted right from the start.

"What a joke. Weren't you all also walking in groups in front?" No.8's retort actually made the others think.

Glancing at Jasmine and No.8, No.5 lightly bit her lip to smooth things over. "Yeah, I also up with No.4 and No.6. Right, No.6?"

No.6 nodded, "Yes, that's normal. It doesn't lead to any clues. Aren't No.1, No.3, No.10, and No.13 also together?"

After hearing this, some people looked a bit embarrassed. Most of them did indeed come in groups.

Although everyone thought it was a normal situation, No.2 was fixated on it.

"Why were you two so late? You must have been discussing some plan halfway!" No.2 persisted.

Unable to bear it any longer, Jasmine smiled at No.2 and quickly retorted, "Do you usually walk with someone and immediately ask their identity, then both confess you're werewolves, and start planning just like that?"

Seeing No.2 somewhat dumbfounded, she continued at a steady pace, "Oh, you might say maybe the werewolves have some secret signals. Let me answer that directly too. Approaching secret signals would definitely draw attention, especially since you haven't confirmed the other person's identity."

"Furthermore, have you carefully read the special privileges? According to them, werewolves can guess their teammates' identities on the first night, which means the game likely starts at night, so it's more probable to guess identities first before the werewolves meet at night."

People began to contemplate her words.

No.13, the young man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then nodded, "Now that you mention it, that's true. I didn't notice the special privileges saying werewolves can guess their teammates on the first night."

Raising an eyebrow, Jasmine looked at No.2 again with a sly smile, "But there's one thing that's true. What I've said doesn't rule out whether I'm a werewolf or not. However, you, with your intelligence and behavior, have proven to us that you're a good person."

"What does that mean?" No.5, puzzled, looked at Jasmine, asking for clarification.

Jasmine shrugged. She didn't want to spoon-feed the answer to others.

No.9, wearing glasses with golden rims, calmly explained to No.5, "The werewolves meet at night. Without knowing their teammates' identities, werewolves generally won't impulsively attack others because they might accidentally make their werewolf teammate a target of suspicion."

Just now, No.2 had been furious and wanted to refute Jasmine's words. But after hearing No.9's explanation, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's it. I'm just trying to prove my innocence. I'm not afraid to accuse others, so I'm a good person," No.2 stated confidently.

With a look of disdain, No.10 said, "Just you? I agree with what No.7 said. I think you simply lack intelligence, so you're just here to stir things up and randomly accuse people."

"You!" No.2 slapped the table, standing up.

"Ding ding ding."

The ancient clock chimed five o'clock.

At this moment, the door of the dining hall was pushed open. Leading the way was a middle-aged man dressed in luxury, followed by Tia and a group of maids pushing food carts.

The man walked to the main seat, clapped his hands, gestured for the maids to serve the food.

Then, with a hearty smile, he walked forward and addressed everyone, "Respected guests, welcome to Bert Village. Tonight, I invite you all to dinner, and I thank you for honoring us with your presence for this final dinner."

After finishing his speech, Bert took his seat, still smiling broadly at everyone.

Hearing him mention the final dinner and seeing his smile, it always felt like there was a strange and chilling aura about him.