The End of Ten Days

Chapter Vol. 1 Ch. 1

An old tungsten filament light hung from the ceiling by a black wire, flickering with dim, uneven light.

The silence in the room spread like ink dropped into clear water—slowly permeating and expanding.

In the center of the room was a large, weathered round table, its surface worn and aged. At the middle of the table stood a small, intricately designed clock, ticking away with a faint sound.

Seated around the table were ten individuals, each dressed in a variety of tattered and dusty clothing. Their faces were smudged with dirt, and their expressions were weary.

Some were slumped over the table; others leaned back in their chairs, all of them deeply asleep.

Standing silently beside them was a man dressed in a black suit, wearing a goat-headed mask.

Through the ancient, battered mask, his sharp eyes glimmered with interest as he observed the ten people.

The clock on the table began to chime as both the minute hand and the hour hand pointed to "twelve."

In the far distance outside the room, a deep, resonant bell echoed faintly.

At that exact moment, the ten men and women seated at the round table began to slowly awaken.

As they regained consciousness, they first looked around the room in confusion, then glanced at each other with puzzled expressions.

It seemed no one remembered how they had arrived in this place.

"Good morning, all nine of you," the goat-headed figure began, breaking the silence. "It’s a pleasure to meet you here. You’ve all been asleep in my presence for the past twelve hours."

The man’s strange attire startled the group, especially in the dim, eerie light of the room.

His mask looked as though it had been crafted from a real goat’s head, with much of the hair yellowed, blackened, and matted together.

The eyeholes of the mask were hollow, revealing his cunning, sinister eyes.

Every movement of his emitted the distinct musky odor of a goat, combined with an unsettling scent of decay.

A man with tattooed arms blinked in confusion for a few seconds before finally realizing the absurdity of the situation. Hesitant, he asked, "Who... who are you?"

"I’m sure you all have the same question," the goat-headed man replied cheerfully, waving his hands as if he had been waiting for this moment. "Allow me to introduce myself to the nine of you."

Sitting farthest from the goat-headed man was a young man named Qi Xia. He quickly scanned the room, his expression growing grim within moments.

This room was strange. Far too strange.

There were no doors, only walls on all sides.

In fact, the room was completely sealed—walls, ceiling, and floor. And yet, somehow, there was this table placed in the center of the room.

Things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

The goat-headed man had specifically mentioned "nine participants." If there were ten people here, then one of them wasn’t a participant.

Who were they?

Among the five men and five women in the room, could one of them be the "kidnapper"?

Without speaking, the goat-headed man slowly moved behind one of the young men seated at the table.

Everyone followed his gaze and realized that the young man he stood behind was different from the others. Though his face was dirty, it was lit up with an eerie, almost blissful smile.

The goat-headed man raised a hand and placed it on the back of the young man’s head.

The young man’s smile grew more unsettling, and he glanced at the others with excitement, as if he already knew something they didn’t.

With a dull thud, the goat-headed man slammed the young man’s head down onto the table.

A horrifying splatter of pink and white spread like paint across the table. Blood droplets landed on everyone’s faces.

The young man’s skull had been shattered completely against the tabletop.

From outside the room, the distant sound of a bell echoed again.

Sitting closest to the deceased, Qi Xia felt something warm and sticky land on his face. Staring at the remains, his body began to tremble despite his best efforts to stay composed.

The woman seated next to the victim froze for three seconds before her face contorted, and she let out a piercing scream.

The scream shattered the frail psychological defenses of the group.

Could a human being truly shatter a skull with their bare hands?

Was the goat-headed figure even human?

Despite his frail appearance, how could he possess such terrifying strength?

The goat-headed man finally spoke again: "The reason I brought ten of you here was so that one of you could be used to quiet the rest."

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