Transmigrated as the Side Top used as an Emotional Trash Can - Chapter 52.1
With thirty kids each chiming in and noisily talking about the situation, it was so chaotic that I couldn’t tell who was who or what anyone was saying. None of it registered in my ears.
Should I just wait for the game to end like this? There was no timer, so I didn’t know when it would end, but…
“Ah, don’t tell me we can’t leave the classroom until the game ends?”
“No way…”
The kids murmured among themselves, still believing that all of this had to be a prank. It was as though that was the only way they could calm themselves down. But then.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out from one corner of the classroom.
As though shattering the hope of the kids who had barely managed to reassure themselves that this was a prank.
“Wh-What the hell? Which bastard was that?!”
“Hey, h-hey! The punk behind me has a gun?!”
It was a piercingly sharp metallic blast. Even though they couldn’t see, all the kids turned their heads toward the sound at once. The kid at the source of the attention sensed everyone looking at him despite their covered eyes and shouted in alarm.
“N-No, I wasn’t trying to shoot it! He kept trying to take it from me!”
A K5 identical to mine was in the flustered kid’s hand. One of the guys near him instinctively grabbed it.
“Hey! This thing has real bullets in it?! The barrel’s fucking hot! Why do you have something like this?!”
“No, I don’t know why I have it either…!”
The kid who seemed to own the pistol and the kid twisting his wrist to take the gun argued for a moment. Everyone in the classroom heard them. None of the kids said anything, but they were all on guard against the kid holding the pistol.
Would you like to skip?
The skip window appeared again, and once more, the kids pressed it with incredible speed and moved the game forward. The difference between the first skip and the second was that the first had been an impulsive skip born from confusion, while the second was an evasive skip born from the desire to escape the current situation.
And so, the Townspeople ended the ambiguous situation before they could even share their opinions.
They would need to cooperate to come up with any kind of plan, but the agitated kids on the Townspeople’ side seemed uninterested in teamwork and only wanted to escape.
Mafia, please discuss and vote for the number of the Townsperson to be executed.
Mafia BLUE 🌒 Do all of you have guns too?
Mafia Blue calmly spoke first. He seemed bothered by the attention the recent gunshot had drawn.
Mafia WHITE 🌒 k5?
Mafia GREEN 🌒 i got one
Mafia RED 🌒 k5 yeahyeah
Mafia PURPLE 🌒 Then who was the person whose gun got exposed earlier?
Mafia RED 🌒 tell us the truth!
Mafia BLUE 🌒 Who was it?
Judging by the chat, each Mafia member seemed to have been given a gun.
Mafia GREEN 🌒 im scared… mom….
Mafia RED 🌒 srsly wth is happening….
Mafia RED 🌒 i just wanna go home fk….
No meaningful messages appeared beyond the information that everyone had the same gun. Neither the Townspeople nor the Mafia seemed to have fully grasped the situation yet.
Mafia BLUE 🌒 Who actually fired the gun? It has to be one of us. Lets at least be honest with each other please!
Despite Mafia Blue’s plea, the culprit didn’t come forward. Time simply passed. Just as I thought this discussion might end the same way as the previous one.
Mafia PURPLE 🌒 Vote to execute Number 21
Just before the voting period ended, Purple suddenly cast a vote.
Does that count as a vote too?
Then what happens to Number 21…
Bang!
A Townsperson has died.
Score: Police-2 Doctor-2 Mafia-5 Townspeople-20
The kid who had been shot slumped over his desk, blood gushing from his head in thick spurts.
The vote had been counted. The vote Mafia Purple cast had killed a Townsperson.
“Ghk, …”
“Aagh! Fuck! Something splashed on me?!”
“Which bastard was it!”
“Ah, please don’t do this… This is a prank, right? It is, right?”
The classroom, barely sixty-six square meters in size with every exit sealed, was instantly filled to the brim with violent emotions. If sound and fear had possessed mass, the classroom would have burst apart.
“He’s dead?! For real?!”
“Which bastard was it!”
The kids noisily searched for the person who had fired the gunshot. But I had seen it. No one had fired a gun. The system had sent a bullet from somewhere and executed a Townsperson.
“Hey, didn’t someone say there was a bastard with a gun earlier?!”
As Mafia, I knew the truth, but the blindfolded Townspeople didn’t. They had heard a gunshot, so they merely assumed someone had fired it.
Should I step forward and tell them the truth? But if I did that, it would be the same as admitting I was one of the Mafia…
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