Two of the players are missing.

[https://i.imgur.com/NLwYxEz.png][https://i.imgur.com/QqvDCdD.png]

The dark-red carpet is laced with flowers and vines that weave together in innumerable pathways. But the hallway itself, beyond the set of stairs, leads only in one direction.

The whole crowd - [Lily], the [Dragon], the [Horse] and the [Ox], and the [Pig] are in front of the [Tiger]’s suite.

Walking quickly, I’m close enough to hear Lily rap on the door.

Tk tk tk!

[Lily]: Hello? Anyone there? The trial’s in ten minutes.

Then in a lower voice, to the people around her.

[Lily]: No one’s responding.

[Dragon]: Let me try.

He bangs on the door with the flat of his hand.

THUN THUN THUN!

[Dragon]: [Tiger]! You awake yet?

There’s no reply.

[Dragon]: Oy, [Tiger]! If you don’t go to the trial Today you’ll be killed!

[Ox]: If this isn’t working let’s move to the [Rooster]’s room.

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He goes to the next suite and smites the doorframe. And finally, someone stirs.

Even before she steps out, I know who must be alive and who must be dead. It was impossible for the Wolves to kill someone based on who they thought was Seer or the Healer since those roles were assigned last midnight in secret. However, in Mafia personality can matter as much as roles.

Think about how people talked and acted in Trial 1. Who would hurt town most to lose? Who makes the most sense for the Wolves to murder? To Wolves set on deceit and falsehood the brightest fires must be snuffed first.

A short, scowling girl bowls into the [Dragon]. She’s rubbing her eyes, hair in a towel.

[https://i.imgur.com/QqvDCdD.png]

[Tiger]: Geez, quit nagging! I was never gonna be late.

[Horse]: See? I was right! Nobody died today.

Everyone else shares a grim look.

I try the [Rooster]’s door; It’s unlocked. I step through the threshold and into a nightmare.

Diligent and organized, logical and orderly. In a normal world, these virtues would be given a just reward.

But while this world has rules, this isn’t a normal world. A sharp, critical mind would be punished, broken, and scattered.

The average human body holds up to one point five gallons of blood. The body of a teenage girl, maybe a few pints less. But looking at the hotel room’s carpet, the carpet that in my suite was pure white - I don’t know how much blood the [Rooster] had held, but it was

So,

So,

So,

Much.

hrk... sob... hrk...

Someone’s crying again; the same person who was sobbing as the [Goat] died. The [Horse] peers at the scene behind me, tears falling in little droplets onto the floor.

[Yuri]: It’s okay, it’s okay.

It’s not okay. But I don’t know what to say.

[Yuri]: You barely knew her anyway. You don't have to be this sad.

[Horse]: I don’t know. I don’t know!

She slowly backs away, eyes red.

[Horse]: Hey, [Snake]… don’t say something like that again. If you die, I’ll cry for you too.

Another tear falls onto the floor in the carpet, by my feet. But as I turn towards her, she’s already made way for the others.

The mystery tear isn’t hers; and, it can’t be mine, because I don’t know why I would cry. Maybe it’s just a leak coming down from the ceiling, joining the little puddle of blood.