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Transmigrated as the Side Top used as an Emotional Trash Can - Chapter 54.2

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  2. Transmigrated as the Side Top used as an Emotional Trash Can
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The kids recoiled as they felt the blood that had once been warm congealing and growing stiff all around them.

“…Was the bastard who said Number 22 earlier the last Police?”

“Are you on the Mafia’s side? Is the Police working with the Mafia?!”

Accusations poured out against the kid who had named Number 22 during the vote despite knowing he was a Townsperson.

Right, the Police in this game had become corrupt in the end. He had chosen survival.

“You bastard, why did you vote for Number 22 without knowing anything and get a Townsperson killed?!”

“That bastard killed him…!”

The anger that had nowhere to go was aimed at someone once again. Since no one knew which person was the Police who had exposed the number, their anger poured toward the kid who had started the witch hunt.

“Doesn’t the Mafia win after only two more people die?! Please don’t kill me!”

The kid who had started the witch hunt dropped to his knees where he stood and desperately begged while facing the wall. Judging by the fact that he couldn’t see, he definitely wasn’t Mafia. But I couldn’t tell the Townspeople that. If I did, they would identify me.

 

Please vote for the number of the person to be executed.

 

“Was I the only one who killed someone?! You all voted without knowing anything and killed people while playing the game too! Don’t treat me like a murderer as though I killed them all by myself! You’re all the same!”

The kid who had started the witch hunt shouted. No one could refute his words that they were all the same. It was a fact everyone knew.

We had killed people.

“I’m really a Townsperson…”

Bang! Bang, bang! Bang!

 

A Townsperson has died.

Night has fallen.

Mafia, please discuss and vote for the number of the Townsperson to be executed.

 

Mafia RED 🌒 what?? howd he die when we didnt even know his number???

 

When the discussion began, Red typed in confusion. Purple remained silent.

 

Mafia RED 🌒 pls stop ignoring me and answer

Mafia RED 🌒 im seriously so fucking scared

Mafia RED 🌒 dont do this srsly pls

Mafia RED 🌒 ah guys…

Mafia RED 🌒 please…

Mafia RED 🌒 ㅠㅠ..

Mafia RED 🌒 …

 

Red’s anxiety continued growing inside the silent chat window. Then, although it was late, I finally managed to roughly understand what had happened and spoke.

 

Mafia WHITE 🌒 I killed him. I shot him with the gun.

 

READ ONLY AT VANISHINTOFICTION.COM

*     *     *

READ ONLY AT VANISHINTOFICTION.COM

 

The discussion period has ended.

No votes have been tallied.

 

Morning has come.

No Townspeople have died.

Score: Police-1 Doctor-0 Mafia-3 Townspeople-3

 

Perhaps Purple had changed his strategy, because he disappeared without appearing in the chat or casting any votes. Several nights and mornings passed without anyone dying.

“Guys.”

I raised my voice slightly to draw the kids’ attention. Then I took the K5 pistol out of my desk drawer. I had waited long enough. This should be enough now.

Bang!

“I’m Mafia, you know? From now on, I’ll assume anyone who so much as opens their mouth to vote wants to die, and I’ll shoot them.”

The kids froze at the sound of the pistol firing toward the ceiling. Then, as though they belatedly understood what I had said, their mouths fell open blankly.

For a moment, I felt sorry, wondering whether I had acted too violently. But I couldn’t think of a more effective or quicker way to draw everyone’s attention.

 

Would you like to skip?

 

“I’ll shoot you if you press the skip button too. Look forward to it.”

I moved my eyes and examined each of the kids’ faces. Then I found one who was looking directly toward me and was particularly unable to hide his agitation. Judging by his name tag.

“Hong Jeonghoon. You’re Mafia, aren’t you?”

So he was Red because his surname was Hong. The kid whose name I had called flinched and opened his mouth.

“Y-You, Baek Hanrim, did you really shoot him dead? You’re White?”

“I’m White. But I didn’t kill him. You saw me handle the gun just now. Want me to show you the magazine?”

I pulled out the magazine and showed him the twelve bullets packed inside, with only the one I had fired into the ceiling missing.

 

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    Transmigrated as the Side Top used as an Emotional Trash Can

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