As the morning light crept in through the half-shattered windows of the Velvet Building, I stood near the doorway of the meeting hall, holding the door open for Kara and Rin. None of us spoke. Not because we had nothing to say—but because we didn't know what to feel.
Exhaustion clung to us like second skin, and even as the hall filled with pale light, it didn't feel like morning.
It felt like a transition.
I looked over my shoulder once, down the hallway in a room where Iris still rested. Breathing, at least. That was enough.
For now.
We stepped into the hall and waited.
Silence.
Then, with a crackling sound like static from an old radio, the announcer's voice echoed from the ceiling speakers. It was the same mechanical, almost bored tone we'd heard since the beginning. Dry. Detached. Like the voice was reading from a script that had no soul behind it.
"Congratulations," it said flatly. "Act 1 complete.
The Mafia have been eliminated.
Civilian Survivors: Four.
Mafia Remaining: Zero."
There was no applause. No fanfare. Just numbers. Facts. Like all the deaths that brought us here were just footnotes in someone else's game log.
I frowned, already expecting more. It couldn't be just this.
"You have done well to reach this point. However…
the game is not over. You'll be moving on Act 2."
I narrowed my eyes as Rin crossed her arms beside me. Kara stood still, unblinking.
"In the next phase—Act 2—your roles will remain the same, but will undergo transformation. Each role will gain an additional skill and a modifier. These changes will be tailored to your individual performance and psychological profile."
That caught me off-guard.
Performance?
Psychological profile?
"Each of you will be provided a new card shortly. With it, you will receive updated instructions.
Your new setting: an open-world simulation. A fully operational outdoor environment has been prepared.
Your primary goal: Survive. For three years."
Rin's jaw clenched. Kara whispered, "Three years?"
I didn't say anything. I was already processing.
Three years… in a new environment. And only four of us.
No more teams.
Just survival.
"You will each be given one thousand (1,000) credit points. These credits are now your lifeline.
They may be exchanged for money, food, water, weapons, shelter, and other resources. You are free to interact, trade, form alliances… or betray one another."
Kara muttered, "So it's capitalism now?"
"Credit reach zero… your game will be terminated.
In this system, death can come by decision, or by debt."
That single line struck me harder than I expected.
They were changing the rules.
Killing wasn't the only way to lose anymore.
You could spend yourself to death.
I glanced at the table in the center of the hall. On it sat four black envelopes and 1 white envelope, one for each of us. A golden seal marked with the game's insignia—an eye above a cross—held each of them closed.
"Detailed parameters, currency rules, and role upgrades are listed in the folders provided.
A gateway will open at noon. You will be released into the world beyond."
There was a pause.
Then the voice said, with that same hollow cadence:
"Make your decisions wisely.
The real game… begins now.
Good luck, Participants."
The speakers clicked off.
And silence swallowed the room again.
I slowly approached the table and picked up the envelope with my name.
It was heavier than I expected.
Inside, I saw the shimmer of a new card.
And beneath it, the thick file detailing what was ahead.
I didn't open it yet. Instead, I looked at Rin. Her eyes were downcast but alert. Kara was still trying to process everything.
Outside that building… was another battlefield.
The kind of game where you could lose not because you died—but because you couldn't keep up.
We had won one act.
But this?
This was survival redefined.
I finally opened the envelope.
Participant Profile:
Name: Caius Turner
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Previous IQ (Registered at Entry): 300
Current IQ (Post-Act I Evaluation): 350
Emotional Intelligence Index (EQ): 120
Psychological Status: Stable | Manipulative | Highly Calculative | Borderline Sociopathic Tendencies
Cognitive Pattern: Abstract & Strategic Dominance
Memory Retention: 98.9% Accuracy (Photographic)
Role: PROXY
Affiliation: Civilian Side
Unique Traits (Act I):
Shadow Insight: Passive deduction-based vision system, allowing indirect tracking of role behavior.Judge: Execute one individual per confirmed rule violation or suspicion (nullified in Act I due to proxy concealment clause).Survive Clause: Passive ability triggered under fatal threat—grants immunity once every two nights.
Psychological Description:
Caius Turner is a rare breed among participants: self-aware, mentally agile, and cold in execution. He excels in cognitive manipulation, excels in observational precision, and possesses a remarkable ability to maintain a façade of normalcy while orchestrating outcomes from the shadows.
During Act I, Caius exhibited mastermind-level behavior, frequently redirecting suspicion, misdirecting enemy kills, and subtly eliminating or exposing high-threat enemies. Known for his calm aura and coldly dominating presence, he often won arguments by logic over panic, controlling the tempo of social discourse.
Despite his initial pretense as a normal civilian, Caius retained memory fragments of his role and used that knowledge to stage events far ahead of real-time decision-making. He manipulated allies and enemies alike—without any of them realizing his control until the final few acts of the game.
Act I Achievements:
-Survived All Phases of Act I
-Maintained Role Concealment Until Strategic Reveal
-Orchestrated the Downfall of the Hostess, Assassin, and Mafia Leader
-Manipulated Vote Outcomes in 4 Key Rounds
-Eliminated Threat-Level Players:
Reyna Solace (Biloquist) — Executed via direct kill
Leira Vaughn (Hag) — Eliminated via tactical judgment
-Acted as Psychological Anchor for multiple players (Rin Aclaire, Iris Denholm)
-Identified Mafia Roles Without Revealed Clues or Prompts
-Never Received a Fatal Vote
Kill Record:
Reyna Solace – Executed personally after failed ambushLeira Vaughn – Stabbed through the heart during confirmed mafia engagement
Strategic Overview:
Caius functions as both predator and architect. Rarely reactive, mostly proactive, his methods prioritize minimal exposure and maximum ripple effect. Unlike traditional leaders, Caius does not demand control—he crafts it. Allies follow not out of loyalty, but because the illusion of choice leads them back to him.
His ability to remain emotionally detached allows him to make decisions with surgical efficiency. When confronted with betrayal (Kara), he chose strategy over emotional collapse. When offered death (by Kara herself), he refused, seeing value beyond the immediate consequence.
His decision-making tree expands well beyond the average participant's—factoring outcomes 2–3 cycles ahead. He plays not the round… but the whole game.
Threat Level Assessment:
To Mafia Teams: EXTREME
To Civilian Teams: UNSTABLE ASSET
To Game Balance: VARIABLE | POSSIBLE OUTLIER
Note for Act II System:
Player may pose a serious threat to internal simulation mechanics due to higher-than-anticipated learning speed and manipulation capacity. Future observations are to be logged under Class S
Additional Analysis:
Caius Turner has surpassed predictive behavioral models designed for Act I participants. His actions were not only unscripted but also breached multiple scenario thresholds previously thought impossible without external interference.
He did not merely play within the rules—he dissected them.
He did not break the game—he bent it, with precision.
Several systems flagged his mental patterns as non-human-like during key decision points. His ability to maintain multiple layers of manipulation, concealment, emotional detachment, and real-time improvisation has classified him under the internal tag:
Rogue Asset: Proxy Variant - Omega Class
Despite being assigned to the Civilian Team, Caius demonstrated a level of predatory behavior typically observed only in high-functioning Mafia operatives. The distinction? His kills were calculated not out of necessity, but out of inevitability—removing liabilities before they became obstacles.
Even players who trusted him did so blindly—without ever realizing he was already ten moves ahead.
His presence has reshaped the pacing of the game, forcing Mafia units to act prematurely, abandon long-term deception tactics, and engage in high-risk behavior out of sheer desperation.
Notable Traits Detected in Simulation Patterns:
Cognitive Overclocking: Increased neural activity under extreme stress, leading to near-instantaneous strategic calculations.
Emotional Dampening: Near-zero emotional response when executing players.
Voice Manipulation: Ability to shift tone to mirror authority, calm, or empathy as needed.
Unshakeable Composure: Zero recorded instances of panic or hesitation under threat.
Counter-Manipulation: Turned attempted psychological tactics from the Mafia back against them.
Act II Warning:
If Caius is allowed to retain his Proxy role with evolved traits and full memory access, he may destabilize the purpose of the game entirely. His presence demands recalibrated AI roles, randomized civilian trust chains, and contingency variables to ensure game balance.
He is no longer just a player.
He is a force.
An anomaly not bound by the game's design,
but by his own terrifying brilliance.
I said, "Woah… it's fully recorded in detail. Every move, every decision we made... it's all here."
I flipped through more pages in my envelope, feeling a strange chill crawl down my back. I glanced up at both of them—Kara and Rin. Their eyes were locked on their respective files, but it was Rin whose reaction caught me the most.
She didn't look surprised. She looked... unsettled.
Not just shaken—distressed.
She wasn't moving through the papers like she was reading her own file. She was staring at it, like it was staring back. Her lips were parted, her pupils unmoving. Then, in the lowest tone, she muttered—
"…This is new."
I turned toward her. "What do you mean, new?"
Rin slowly blinked as if waking from a trance, then looked at me. Her voice wasn't as steady as usual. "This—this isn't how it's supposed to go. When I survived Act I… there wasn't anything like this. We didn't get envelopes with full psychological breakdowns or kill counts or skills laid out like trading cards. We didn't sit down for a debrief."
She hesitated before continuing.
"We just… woke up outside. In the middle of a ruined district. A single message on our phones. That was our only guide: 'Survive three years, don't let your score hit zero. And do your designated task' That was it. No elaborate profiles. No records. No… surveillance summary like this."
Kara looked between the two of us, visibly shaken. "Wait—you… you've already done this before?" Her voice was a mix of disbelief and something else. Hurt, maybe. "You survived Act I before?"
Rin nodded stiffly. "I told him already. I left during Act III in my first cycle. I didn't make it to the end. I tapped out. Disappeared."
Kara's face darkened. "So this whole time, you had more information than any of us."
"I didn't lie," Rin said quickly. "But even I didn't expect this. Something's changed. Something big. They're doing things differently this time."
I sat back, arms crossed, scanning the lines on my profile again. Every sentence felt surgically written. Every phrase reeked of omniscient design. Caius Turner. Proxy. Omega-class anomaly.
It felt less like we were playing a game now—and more like we were being… monitored. Engineered.
Kara exhaled, lowering her envelope slightly. "You think it's because of you?" she asked, turning her eyes toward me.
"What?"
"You," she repeated. "They never did this before. Rin survived. But this time it's different. Your file isn't a file. It's a warning label. You're not just a player anymore. You're a variable they didn't plan for."
Rin added softly, "They called you anomaly. You broke their systems. I've never seen the word 'Omega-class' used outside of death-threat predictions."
"And what does that mean for Act II?" I asked, my voice low. "That the game is tailored now? That the world we'll step into isn't just the same broken district, but something worse? Built for me?"
"I don't know," Rin admitted. "But this is no longer the same. This is something else."
We sat there in silence for a few minutes. The files felt heavier in our hands. Not paper. Not just ink.
But intent. Calculation. A reflection of someone watching us—judging us.
"What about the money thing?" Kara asked finally. "The currency points. That's new, too. Like they're dangling freedom in front of our faces."
"Control through desperation," I said. "Make us believe we're fighting for independence when we're still inside the cage."
Rin frowned. "I don't think it's about the money."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She looked back down at her file. "You don't give players 1,000 points and then let them spend it on 'whatever they want' without expecting chaos.
And I said continuing on her word "They want us to barter. Betray. Gamble. Starve."
"You're quick to catch on."
Kara glanced at her envelope. "It said points can be traded for real-world rewards. Freedom. Comfort. Luxury. But it also says… 'Don't let it hit zero or you die.' So it's not just currency."
"It's a leash," I muttered. "A leash disguised as opportunity."
Rin closed her file, her tone sharpening. "And all of this? All this structure, this surveillance, these new systems? It's not just a new Act. It's a test. They're studying us more closely now."
Kara let out a dry laugh, though her eyes didn't match her smile. "And here I thought surviving Act I meant we'd get a break."
"No," I said, standing up and walking toward the edge of the table. "This isn't the end of anything. This is just the next level of the experiment."
Rin looked up at me. "So what do we do?"
I turned back toward them, eyes narrowing. "We adapt. We build. We plan. And we don't just survive."
I tapped the envelope once before sliding it aside.
"We break their system from the inside… Let's Finish and End this game once and for all."
And I looked at the white envelope entitled. THE RULES AMONG US.
[TO BE CONTINUED]