POV Shift: The Mafia
Tch.
So he's the Proxy.
If we'd known from the start… I would have killed him instead of that stupid reporter girl this game would've been over in the first act.
I rolled my shoulders as I walked down the narrow hallway of the Velvet Building. Every step echoed like a countdown. This place it reeked of desperation now. The civilians were crumbling, falling like flies in a jar with no air left. The fear was starting to choke them, and the Proxy he was the one keeping them afloat.
Smart bastard.
He's been playing us the whole time. Not from the front lines, no. From the shadows. Quiet. Observing. Nudging pieces around like some half-god with a smirk.
And now?
Now I'm done playing nice.
I reached the Room and opened the door slowly. No knocking.
Inside was Noel Strand—the so-called "gangster."
He looked up instantly, caught mid-step as he paced the room like a caged dog. He had bags under his eyes, sweat clinging to his brow. A knife rested shakily in his hand.
"W-What the hell do you want?" he stammered, stepping back.
I closed the door behind me, slowly. Deliberately. The click of the lock was louder than it needed to be.
"Don't flatter yourself, Noel," I said coolly. "You were never on my list."
"Then leave," he muttered. "I don't want any part of this anymore."
I smirked. "That's the thing. You don't get to quit."
His eyes flicked toward the blade in his hand. I noticed it. So did he.
He lunged first. Of course he did.
They always do.
I sidestepped the charge, grabbed his wrist mid-swing, and twisted. Hard.
Crack.
He screamed.
The knife dropped with a clatter, and I drove my knee into his gut. He crumpled to the floor, wheezing, coughing.
I grabbed a chair, calmly pulled it forward, and sat down.
"Go ahead," I said, watching him crawl like a slug. "Try again."
Noel gasped, grabbing at his side, eyes wild. "You're insane…"
I chuckled. "And you're weak."
He made another attempt to scramble away. I kicked him in the ribs. Once. Twice.
More coughing. Blood on his lips.
I leaned forward.
"You know what pisses me off, Noel?"
He didn't answer. His mouth was too busy choking.
I answered for him. "The fact that a background reject like you thinks he matters. You're a footnote. A pawn. You think hiding with the Proxy makes you valuable?"
He was trembling now. Still trying to crawl. Still trying to live.
I stood and walked slowly around him.
"The Proxy thinks he can win this," I continued. "He's playing chess. Moving his little pieces. But here's the twist, Noel…"
I leaned down beside his ear.
"…I'm not playing chess. I'm flipping the board."
Then—
A snap.
My boot slammed into his neck. Clean. Instant.
No struggle. Just a limp body twitching on the floor.
I stood over him in silence. The room was still. Too still.
I glanced at the wall. A mirror.
I walked toward it. Looked at myself.
This wasn't the first time.
Wouldn't be the last.
The Proxy was waiting. Calculating.
Let him.
I'm slowly losing my pieces but the king should be checkmate in the end…
I'll be there. Watching him bleed just like the rest.
POV: The Main Character (Caius Turner)
The only light came from the single lamp in the corner, casting a low golden hue across the walls. Rin Aclaire stood near the dresser, arms crossed, her eyes heavy with thought. Iris Denholm was slumped against the wall, arms around her knees, but her eyes… they were still alert. Still listening.
And me? I stood over the table in the center, where I had laid out several small tokens to represent the remaining players—an improvised board for a game none of us ever asked to join. But now… we play to survive.
"We're down to ten including me," I began coldly, moving the tokens with deliberate fingers. "And I expect by tomorrow morning, three more will die."
Rin blinked. "Three?"
I nodded. "Desmond, Kara, and Noel."
Iris flinched slightly but said nothing.
I continued, "The penance, the fiend, the gangster. Their presence is too threatening. The Mafia won't leave them alive."
Iris asked how you knew their roles?
I said. "Because they told me so, I already concluded who are the remaining mafia team."
Rin tilted her head, voice calm. "Then why are we sitting here talking instead of warning them?"
"Because they won't listen," I said bluntly. "They don't trust me. They barely trust each other. And Desmond? He already made his move. His card activates on death. He's gambling the same way I am."
I moved one token aside.
"If he dies, he might take one of them down with him. And if we're lucky, it'll be the real Mafia."
I glanced toward Iris. "You said something before. About how the man you fought when you lost two of your lives was blurry?"
She nodded, face serious now. "Yes. His presence was like a shadow with no face. Even up close, he was hard to follow. Fast. Cold. Precise."
"That blur," I said slowly, "has appeared more than once. Once during the reporter's murder. Once in the stairwell when Mila was taken. And once in the fight with you."
I placed one token upright in the center of the board—the one with the silhouette of a faceless man.
"This confirms it. The Mafia has the ability to hide his presence. His true face. Probably to avoid identification from roles like the detective or mentalist. That's why Desmond never found him. And that's why no one saw him coming."
Rin leaned forward, her voice measured. "Then if he's still alive, and the others die tonight..."
"We vote him out tomorrow," I said, cutting in.
I looked between the two of them.
"Let's assume Desmond kills one of the Mafia tonight. We'll be down to six. Us three, and three enemies: the main Mafia, the girl— Leira Vaughn —and Damien Cord."
Iris whispered, "Damien's been quiet."
"He's terrified," I replied. "He doesn't have an alliance. He's watching. Waiting. But he's not stupid. He'll follow whoever gives him the best odds of survival. And right now, we can use that."
I glanced toward the door, then back to the board.
"If Leira does anything reckless tonight, it'll backfire. Her only real threat is confusion. But her influence is limited without backup."
"So," Rin said, folding her arms again, "what do we do?"
"We prepare."
I took the remaining civilian markers and moved them to one side.
"Tonight, we wait. We let Desmond play his final hand. If he dies, and he takes out the Mafia, we win tomorrow. If not... then we vote out the man who's always sitting. Always watching."
I stared at the final token.
"I'm done playing defense."
Iris finally spoke again. "If we win tomorrow, if we really make it through this Act... what happens next?"
I didn't answer right away.
But Rin answered for me. I already experienced what come next after this but for now lets focus on the matter at hand.
Iris didn't answered.
I finally said. "But I plan to make it to the end to find out."
And this time, I won't let anyone else decide the outcome.
Let the night come.
Let them strike.
Because I'm not the hunted anymore.
I'm the hand moving the pieces.
And tomorrow?
I end this game.