Chapter 91 | My Class Is Ghost Bride, But This Isn’t Romance

Just as the man in the suit finished speaking, Fu Yan had already squatted down and begun to carefully examine the scene with practiced precision.

Although he had introduced himself as a programmer, players were a well-traveled bunch. Their skills were by no means limited to their day jobs.

Fu Yan didn't touch the body. He merely leaned down to examine the traces around the boy with the flashlight, brushing his fingers over the water stains on the floor, then checking the position of the kitchen knife and the wound on the victim's forehead.

A moment later, Fu Yan stood up and announced, “It wasn't an accident. He was pushed down from behind.”

“How can you be sure?” The muscular man raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with skepticism. “What if he really did just slip on his own and fall onto the knife? Wouldn't it look the same?”

This time, he didn't say anything like “Could it have been you?” after all. Both of their groups had been active in the same general area, keeping each other's movements in sight. They were essentially each other's alibis.

To voice suspicions now would make him a complete fool.

Fu Yan didn't even spare him a glance, explaining with clear logic, “First, look at the distribution of the water stains on the floor.”

“If he had slipped on his own, his feet would have left obvious slide marks as he lost his balance. The water stains would have been smudged, forming irregular streaks. Furthermore, his body would have fallen in the direction of the slip, landing at a natural angle.”

“But look here. The victim's feet are together. There are no slide marks beneath them, and the water stains on the floor are perfectly intact, with no signs of being disturbed.”

He paused, pointing toward the corpse's arms. “Second, look at the marks on his body.”

“If he had slipped on his own, he would have subconsciously reached out to break his fall. There would be scrapes or dirt on his arms, but his arms are perfectly clean, showing no signs of any attempt to brace himself.”

“And then there's the position of the kitchen knife. If it were an accidental slip, hitting the knife would have knocked it out of place, or even sent it sliding further away.”

“Yet this knife is lying right next to his hand, with the blade pointing directly toward his forehead. The positioning is far too precise. It is much more likely that someone placed the knife here in advance, or deliberately adjusted its position before he fell to ensure his forehead would strike the blade.”

Fu Yan's explanation was logical and backed by detailed analysis. Everyone present was convinced, and no one questioned his judgment any further.

The man in the suit also abandoned his previous wishful thinking, his tone turning grave. “So, someone deliberately killed him? But who would do that? He was just an ordinary student. He wasn't particularly big or strong, and he never got into conflicts with anyone.”

Indeed, who would kill him? And for what possible reason?

The high-ponytail girl kneeling on the floor suddenly raised her head. Her face was drenched in tears, but her eyes had turned unnaturally calm—a quiet, unsettling sort of madness.

The words of the man in the suit seemed to trigger something in her. She bolted to her feet, her gaze sweeping across everyone present as she shrieked, “Who was it? Who killed him? Why did you kill him? He was so kind, he never hurt a single soul! Why did you have to kill him?”

First, the long-haired woman's head had fallen off right in front of everyone, then Wang Er had been poisoned. She had been unlucky enough to be caught up in every single incident, either standing closest to the victim or being the first to discover the corpse.

Now, the boy she had so cautiously loved had died in such a gruesome manner. Worse, it was because he had gone off alone to look for her that the killer had found the opportunity to strike.

Witnessing one death after another, the sheer weight of grief, guilt, and terror snapped her tightly wound nerves. Her mind completely broke down.

She lunged toward the crowd, screaming her accusations over and over, “Was it you? Did you kill him? Tell me!”

The commotion in the kitchen finally drew Sun Hao out from a room further down the hall. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, he took in the corpse on the floor and the hysterical high-ponytail girl, letting out a heavy, weary sigh.

The atmosphere grew suffocatingly tense.

Noticing the high-ponytail girl's gaze lingering on him for a bit too long, the muscular man quickly tried to deflect suspicion. “Could someone have mistaken him for a Madman and killed him? After all, everyone is on guard against the Madmen right now. It's not impossible that someone targeted the wrong person.”

He paused, then added, “Or, maybe the Madmen did it. You know how it is—the Madmen don't need a reason to eliminate Citizens. Maybe they just picked him at random.”

“No, that's not true!” the high-ponytail girl shot back immediately. “The Madmen wouldn't kill him. They promised me they wouldn't!”

“If the Citizens want to kill someone, just come after me! Shanxi was a Citizen—he wasn't a Madman. I am!”

This sudden revelation laid all the cards on the table, leaving everyone present completely dumbfounded.

Even Fu Yan was taken aback for a moment before he recovered, asking in his usual calm tone, “Are you really so sure that your fellow Madmen didn't kill him?”

“After all, the Madmen's goal is to eliminate all Citizens. He was a Citizen, so your teammates had no reason to spare him, much less keep a promise to you to leave him alone.”

As soon as Fu Yan finished speaking, the high-ponytail girl seemed to realize something, or perhaps she reached a decision. Either way, she suddenly fell quiet.

She slowly lowered her head, her voice low and raspy. “If a Madman did it, the most likely culprit is that person... Tonight, make him explain himself.”

This statement was meant for her fellow Madmen.

Only Madmen could act during the nighttime phase. As for who that person was, she didn't state it explicitly.

By not exposing the rest of her team, she had already shown them more than enough mercy.

Without giving anyone else a chance to speak, she continued, her voice heavy with exhaustion, “I don't want to go on anymore. I can't take this...”

She pulled her identity card from her pocket, and a syringe filled with a dark green liquid slipped out, landing steadily in her palm.

Without the slightest hesitation, she raised the syringe and stabbed it toward her wrist.

She was committing suicide. She didn't want to participate in this endless slaughter anymore, she didn't want to witness any more deaths, and she certainly didn't want to face the torment of killing others with her own hands.

It all happened too quickly for anyone to react.

Filament let out a startled cry and lunged forward to stop her, but her hand only caught the edge of the high-ponytail girl's clothes. The poison was injected almost the instant the needle pierced her skin, and the syringe was already empty.

Sun Hao stared with a conflicted expression at the high-ponytail girl, whose breathing was rapidly growing weaker, and pursed his lips.

“Make some room.” Bai Ci patted Filament on the shoulder, motioning for her to step aside.

Bai Ci moved to the high-ponytail girl's side, grabbed her hand to yank out the empty syringe, and simultaneously pulled out her own identity card. She immediately drove a syringe filled with a pure white liquid into the girl's arm.

Normally, administering such an injection would require a professional doctor to locate a vein, but in this game, the mechanics didn't bother with real-world logic.