A circle cleared in the center of the crowd, surrounding the few players who claimed they had heard the crying.
Despair was etched onto every face. They slumped on the floor, tears streaming down uncontrollably.
Some muttered, “I don't want to die,” over and over, while others stared blankly, as if their very souls had been sucked out.
“Hahaha... God bless us, God bless us!”
Meanwhile, the rest of the players who had escaped the grim fate spared no thought for their feelings, letting out smug, twisted grins.
“It's not me! I wasn't the one marked by death!”
“Thank goodness... I didn't hear it... I'm not going to die...”
“I knew it! I would never die here!”
“You poor things, may God bless you.”
The jubilant faces contrasted sharply with the weeping, despairing ones beside them, creating an incredibly absurd and cruel tableau.
It was like a world-famous painting.
[Why must it be you who dies?]
[Why isn't it them instead?]
[My dear, they are laughing at you.]
[Since someone has to die, why does it have to be you?]
Countless whispers echoed in the players' ears.
The joy of the lucky players, built entirely on the potential demise of others, directly birthed something far more terrifying—
In the next second, chaos erupted.
“Ah!”
A piercing shriek shattered the noisy clamor of the carriage.
Zhao Weilai whipped her head around and saw a player leap up from the floor like an enraged bear.
A fist as large as a dinner plate whipped through the air, slamming hard into another player's face.
The victim, who hadn't heard the crying, still had that twisted smile on his face when the fist connected squarely.
His head snapped back, blood spurting from his nose as he crashed heavily onto the floorboards.
The attacker gave him no time to react, stepping forward to mount him.
Fists rained down on his head and face, one after another, in a frenzy.
“Thud! Thud! Thud!”
The dull thuds of fists hitting flesh rang out with chilling clarity in the chaotic carriage.
“Since the Banshee is here, someone has to die!”
The man's face was flushed crimson, his eyes wild like a beast's as spit flew from his mouth. “You die for me! Go die! You take my place and serve death!”
It was as if a switch labeled "evil" had been flipped.
In this moment, the instinct for survival was completely warped into pure, frenzied malice.
[Let her return to death in your place.]
“Yes... someone has to die... if someone else dies, I won't have to...”
A middle-aged man who had heard the crying muttered to himself, his eyes slowly turning blood-red.
He suddenly whipped his head around, locking his gaze on a frail player beside him.
Before the player could even react, the man lunged, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him to the seat.
“You die for me! Die for me, okay?!”
The man's voice was shrill and sharp, his fingers tightening with every passing second.
The player's face turned purple as he clawed desperately at the man's arms, but he couldn't break free.
It was like a falling row of dominoes.
Humanity vanished in an instant, and the beastly nature lurking deep within their bones broke completely free from its shackles.
One, two, three... the players who had heard the crying lunged at those around them like rabid beasts.
Some choked, some punched, and some even tore with their teeth like wild animals.
Everyone was repeating the same line: “You die for me! If you die, I get to live!”
The carriage fell into absolute chaos in an instant.
“Help! Help! Save me!”
“I don't want to die, I don't want to die! I still have a family!”
“I have money, I can give you money!”
Screams, blows, tearing flesh, prayers, curses, wails...
Countless sounds blended together like ingredients in a blender. Overhead, the lights flickered violently, casting erratic shadows over the madness-twisted faces.
At this moment, who could tell the difference between humans and devils?
“They're mad... they've all gone mad!” Mu Xiao's face was deathly pale as she clutched Zhao Weilai's arm, her body trembling uncontrollably.
“Watch out!”
Weng Yang suddenly yanked Mu Xiao aside just as a crazed male player lunged forward, a shard of broken glass in his hand aimed straight for Mu Xiao's face.
Zhao Weilai delivered a swift backkick to his stomach. The man groaned, collapsing to the floor in a fetal position as the glass shard rolled away.
“Weilai, there's something wrong with them!”
Weng Yang shouted, her hand pressing hard against the gun at her waist.
The carriage was too narrow.
People were rushing everywhere in the cramped space; a bullet could easily ricochet.
Left with no choice, she fired a shot into a corpse.
“Bang!”
But the gunpowder and the deafening blast only snapped the frenzied players out of it for less than a second.
“What are you doing?!”
Zhao Weilai also realized something was off. She pushed Mu Xiao into the corner of a seat, only to hear a Korean woman's scream from behind her.
Turning her head, she saw Kim Myung straddling Park So-na. But this was no intimate moment between lovers—his hands were wrapped tightly around her neck, choking her.
“Go die, go die, just die, you crazy bitch! I've had enough of you!
Shibal! Why did I have to hear the crying?! Why do I have to die?!”
Kim Myung's eyes were terrifyingly red, veins bulging on his forehead as he cursed hysterically in Korean:
“It's all your fault! If it weren't for you, how could I have ended up like this? You deserve to die, So-na! If you die, I can live.
You love me so much, you'd be willing, right? Then just die for me!”
“Op... pa...”
Park So-na's face had turned a deep purplish-blue. She clawed at Kim Myung's wrists, her nails digging into his flesh.
Yet she only wept, her struggles growing weaker and weaker. Finally, she let go of her hands, completely giving up on life.
“Are you even human?!”
Zhao Weilai shrieked. Lunging forward in two strides, she hoisted Kim Myung off Park So-na like a wet rag and flung him backward.
Kim Myung, weighing at least a hundred and forty pounds, felt as light as an empty plastic bottle in Zhao Weilai's grasp.
He slammed into the backrest of a seat, groaning in pain.
“Are you out of your mind?”
Zhao Weilai hauled the man up, her face filled with disbelief. “She's your girlfriend!”
“Then you die!”
Kim Myung's eyes were bloodshot like a provoked beast. He reached out to grab Zhao Weilai. “Then you die for me instead! Go die! Why won't you just die?!”
By the end, he was practically sobbing, rubbing his hands together in a frantic, fly-like motion, his eyes filled with a sick, desperate pleading:
“Just die, please just die! Go die already!!”
Zhao Weilai slapped him hard across the face. His head snapped to the side, and he instantly went out like a light.
Only then did she look at Park So-na, who was gasping for air. She was a mess, but she was alive.
But the situation in the carriage was far worse than she had imagined.
People were brawling everywhere.
Some lay motionless on the floor, bleeding heavily from their heads.
Others straddled their victims, their fists still raining down relentlessly.
Margaret squeezed through the crowd, trying to pull people apart while loudly reciting the Bible and shouting, “God loves you! Stop the violence!”
But no one listened to her. A crazed player swung his arm wildly, nearly hitting her square in the face.
The priest grabbed Margaret, pulling her behind him to shield her from the blow.
But Margaret showed no gratitude. She violently shook off Father Ewan's hand and took a step back, her eyes burning with fury:
“Don't touch me! You heretic! You thief who split the Church! Don't think you can deceive me! I don't need help from a hypocritical heretic!”
The priest didn't argue with her. He simply turned back to pull apart the players who had lost themselves in the red haze of violence.
Weng Yang was also sweating profusely from anxiety.
She pulled one person off another, but as soon as she separated one group, another fight would break out elsewhere.
The players seemed to have lost all reason. The only thought left in their minds was: If someone else dies, I get to live.
Everyone was striking out blindly at whoever was closest, completely indiscriminate.
There was no sign that the crowd's madness was subsiding.
Rate on N.U.
