Chapter 27: Russian Roulette
Following Rhine's directions, Lynn arrived at the door of the containment room at the end of the corridor.
The handle was coated with dust, indicating that no one had visited for quite some time. It wasn’t hard to guess why—anything stored in such an obscure corner had to be both highly dangerous and uncontrollable.
Without hesitation, Lynn pushed the door open.
The next second, the room’s interior came into view, leaving him momentarily stunned.
The room was small, only about ten square meters, likely because the contained object itself didn’t take up much space. Despite its size, a single table occupied the center.
On the table rested a palm-sized, ancient-looking wooden box. Its rough surface was carved with strange patterns, and faint bloodstains could still be seen.
But none of that was what shocked Lynn.
What truly caught his attention was the thing seated across from the table.
Yes, he had to describe it as a "thing."Although it had a humanoid shape, every aspect of its appearance screamed that it was nothing more than a puppet—a grotesque, half-flesh, half-marionette creation.
It still retained some human characteristics, such as breathing. But its joints were unmistakably mechanical, as if pieced together from various components, giving it an unnerving, surreal vibe.
Sitting silently on a tall chair, the puppet seemed almost lifeless. Lynn couldn’t help but feel the urge to mock it.
Are you going to play a game with me too?
Suppressing the sarcastic thought, Lynn casually shut the door behind him.
“Bang!”
The sound reverberated through the containment room, seemingly startling the puppet.
Moments later, the chair emitted a series of "click-clack" noises. Under Lynn’s watchful gaze, the dusty puppet appeared to be pulled by invisible strings as it slowly rose from the chair.
The puppet opened its eyes and looked at Lynn, its wooden jaw moving stiffly.
"Oh, it’s been ages since anyone came here," it said, its eerie voice sending chills down the spine. "Who would have thought a fool would finally deliver themselves to me?"
"I sense a faint trace of the 'Prisoner of Fate' on you... Are you a believer in the 'Trickery' faith?"
Trickery?
Lynn recalled the Swallower of Lies ability he had acquired in the underground laboratory that night. The symbol for that ability—a half-smiling, half-crying clown face—came to mind.
So that’s the emblem of the Trickery faith?
He pondered briefly before feigning ignorance. "No, you must be mistaken."
From the puppet's tone, it was evident that it harbored a strong dislike for Trickery believers.
"Good, that’s better... Sit," the puppet said, pointing stiffly to the chair opposite the table.
Lynn stepped forward, pulled the chair out, and sat down.
The moment he settled, an invisible force pressed down on his shoulders.
It wasn’t heavy, but it rendered him unable to leave the chair. He struggled briefly, but to no avail, and eventually resigned himself, leaning back against the chair.
Meanwhile, he secretly tried activating the Swallower of Lies ability, only to find it also sealed by the unseen force.
"From the moment you entered, the game had already begun. Until it ends, there’s no way to leave," the puppet said, its neck creaking as it twisted stiffly.
"What game?" Lynn asked, confused.
"Ignorance truly is bliss." Despite its puppet form, the creature managed to display a mocking expression. "Didn’t they tell you anything about the ‘Deadly Marionette’ before sending you in here?"
With that, the puppet pulled a revolver from behind it.
Under Lynn’s gaze, it opened the chamber and emptied six golden bullets onto the table. The bullets clattered noisily as they scattered across the surface.
The puppet’s eyes gleamed with malice as it stared at him.
Seeing this, Lynn furrowed his brows, the situation becoming clear. "You’re going to play Russian roulette with me?"
This deadly game, popular in underground gambling circles, was as brutal as it was thrilling. In just a few minutes, participants could experience a plunge from heaven to hell.
Typically, Russian roulette involved loading a single bullet into the chamber. Before each shot, participants could either spin the chamber or fire directly at their temple.
Using multiple bullets was a more advanced variation, involving complex probability calculations to increase survival odds.
The puppet seemed to derive immense pleasure from Lynn’s apprehension, laughing maniacally.
"You take a shot, then I take a shot. The game doesn’t end until one of us has their head blown off," it said, toying with the bullets on the table. "So... how many bullets do you choose?"
Lynn’s expression grew serious. "Let me ask first—who goes first?"
The puppet’s voice grew colder. "As the host of the game, I naturally go first."
Hearing this, Lynn seemed to relax. "Oh, you should’ve said that earlier... In that case, I’ll choose six bullets."
"Fine, that’s... huh?"
The puppet, about to pick up the bullets, froze as realization dawned.
It glared at Lynn with fury. "You brat, that’s not funny!"
"If you can’t handle losing, don’t play," Lynn said, spreading his hands nonchalantly.
The puppet’s anger surged. "Now I’m certain—you must be one of those Trickery scum! Even your disgusting sense of humor reeks of them!"
It didn’t wait for Lynn’s choice again. Instead, it grabbed two bullets and loaded them into the chamber.
"Click!"
After spinning the cylinder, it snapped the chamber into place and raised the gun to its temple.
"Click."
The hammer fell with a crisp sound, but nothing happened.
"Seems like my luck’s pretty good... Your turn!"
The puppet slid the revolver across the table toward Lynn, its grin full of malice.
Lynn, unusually silent, stared at the gun.
"Take your time," the puppet taunted. "I don’t need food. I can wait ten thousand years if I must—but you can’t. Or maybe..."
It sneered. "Are you afraid to pull the trigger?"
"You Trickery rats always fit the stereotype—cowardly, like sewer rats, skulking in the dark and leading twisted, miserable lives."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
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