dim tungsten bulb hung from the ceiling by a black wire, flickering weakly in the center of the room.
Silence seeped through the air like ink dropped into clear water—slowly spreading, quietly suffocating.
In the middle of the room sat a large round table, weathered and chipped. At its center stood a small ornate clock, its intricate patterns whispering of forgotten craftsmanship. It ticked steadily, its rhythm a lonely metronome in the stillness.
Around the table sat ten people, dressed in various styles of worn, dusty clothes.
Some lay slumped across the table; others leaned back in their chairs—each of them deeply asleep.
Standing silently behind them was a man dressed in a black suit, wearing a grotesque goat mask.
His eyes stared out from the hollow sockets with eerie amusement, observing the sleepers with quiet fascination.
Then the clock on the table chimed—its hour and minute hands both pointed straight at twelve.
Far off in the distance, a heavy bell tolled.
At that exact moment, the ten men and women seated around the table began to stir.
As they awoke, they looked around with confusion, then exchanged bewildered glances with each other.
Clearly, none of them remembered how they had arrived here.
"Good morning," the man in the goat mask said cheerfully. "I'm pleased to finally meet you all. You've been asleep in my presence for twelve hours."
His strange appearance startled everyone. Under the dim light, the mask looked disturbingly realistic—perhaps even made from a real goat's head. The yellowed, matted fur clung together in greasy clumps.
The eyeholes had been hollowed out, revealing two cunning, gleaming eyes.
The air around him reeked—not just of the musky stench of a goat, but something darker… rotting.
A man with tattooed arms blinked for a few seconds, then finally asked the question that had to be asked.
"…Who are you?"
"I figured you'd all be wondering the same thing," the goat-masked man replied with delight, spreading his arms wide. "So let me introduce myself properly."
At the far end of the table sat a young man named Qi Xia, the one furthest from the masked figure. He quickly surveyed the room, and his expression grew serious.
Something about this place was wrong.
There were no doors—just solid walls on all sides.
The ceiling, floor, and walls were completely sealed off.
And yet somehow… a table had been placed in the center of the room, and all of them had ended up seated around it.
Could the walls have been built after they were brought in?
Qi Xia studied the room more closely.
The walls, ceiling, and floor were covered in crisscrossing lines, forming large square grids.
And there was something else bothering him—what the goat-masked man had just said: "nine guests."
But there were ten people seated around the table. Including the goat-masked man, there were eleven people in the room.
Why had he said nine?
Qi Xia reached into his pocket, unsurprised to find that his phone was gone.
"No need for introductions," a cold woman interrupted the goat-masked man.
"I advise you to stop whatever you're doing immediately. I suspect you've illegally detained us for more than twenty-four hours, which constitutes unlawful imprisonment. Every word you're saying right now will be recorded and used against you."
As she spoke, she brushed the dust from her arms with visible disgust—being dirty seemed to offend her more than being kidnapped.
Her calm and rational tone sobered the group somewhat.
Whoever this masked man was, the fact that he'd kidnapped ten people on his own had clearly crossed the line of legality.
"Wait a moment…" a middle-aged man in a white lab coat interrupted, turning toward the cold woman.
"We've only just regained consciousness. How do you know we've been detained for 'twenty-four hours'?"
His tone was calm but sharp—straight to the point.
Unfazed, the cold woman pointed to the clock on the table.
"That clock shows twelve o'clock. I tend to stay up late, and I remember clearly that it was midnight the last time I looked at a clock at home. That means we've been unconscious for at least twelve hours."
She then gestured toward the walls.
"There are no doors here. This man went to considerable effort to get us into this room. He said we've been asleep for twelve hours, and now the clock points to twelve again. That means it's done at least two full cycles. I'm estimating over twenty-four hours. Do you have a problem with that?"
The man in the lab coat gave her a cold glance, still skeptical.
Her composure in this situation was… unnatural.
Would a normal person respond to kidnapping with such cold logic?
A muscular young man in a black t-shirt spoke up:
"Goat-head… if there are ten people here, why did you say there are nine?"
The goat-masked man remained silent.
"Don't care if there's nine or ten—" the tattooed man growled.
He slammed his palms on the table, trying to stand up, but his legs gave out beneath him.
"Son of a b*tch!" he spat. "You really don't know who you've messed with. I swear to God, I'll kill you for this!"
The threat snapped the others out of their daze.
It was clear someone needed to take the lead and overpower this masked lunatic.
But one by one, everyone realized their legs were numb—paralyzed, as if drugged.
All they could do was shout, curse, threaten.
Qi Xia remained silent, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
His eyes lingered on the ornate clock.
Something wasn't adding up.
Goat-head had said there were nine participants.
If ten were present, that meant… one of them didn't belong.
Who was it?
There were six men and four women. Could one of them be the kidnapper?
The goat-masked man said nothing. He slowly walked toward Qi Xia, then stopped behind a young man.
Everyone followed his gaze.
This young man looked just as filthy as the others, but he was smiling… almost blissfully.
The goat-masked man raised his hand…
…and gently placed it on the back of the young man's head.
The young man's smile grew wider.
His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
Then—BANG.
The goat-masked man slammed the young man's head into the table.
A sickening crunch echoed through the room.
Flesh, bone, and brain matter burst across the table like spilled paint, splattering across everyone's faces.
The young man's skull had been completely crushed.
From beyond the sealed walls, the bell tolled once again.
Qi Xia, seated close to the victim, felt something sticky and warm on his face.
Despite his strong nerves, he found himself trembling.
The girl beside the victim stared blankly for three seconds—then let out a blood-curdling scream.
That scream shattered the last remnants of their sanity.
What kind of creature could shatter a human skull with its bare hands?
Was this "goat-head" even human?
He was thin, almost frail—but the power he just displayed was… monstrous.
Then the goat-masked man spoke again.
"The reason I brought ten people," he said, "was because I needed one to quiet the rest of you down."