Chapter 30
They hadn’t gotten married, but one of the participants had a child.
And there were two participants who had secrets they couldn’t tell their families.
‘It’d be so much easier to reason this out if I just knew what all the possible roles were.’
Like a mafia game, at least.
What was I supposed to do with this mess?
‘What can I clearly distinguish? The only role I can maybe guess is the father’s.’
My turn ended, and the participant next to me began.
“People who are still attending school, fold your finger.”
That was a sharp question—since we’d already confirmed there were people with children, this could reveal who the child was.
Sure enough, one person’s face went pale. And then—one of their fingers was sliced clean off.
The questioner smiled, as if they’d been waiting for that, and said,
“Answer!”
[Yes, participant! Please give us your answer!]
“The person whose finger folded just now is a child!”
[Oh.]
[That’s a little vague, don’t you think?]
“Huh?”
[You have to specify whose child and what gender.]
[People playing the ‘father’ or ‘mother’ roles are someone’s children too, remember?]
Ha.
They were toying with us.
The questioner’s mouth fell open—clearly not expecting that twist.
“Then… the parents’ child, a son?”
He must have guessed that the person still in school was male.
Since I, the one playing the role of mistress, matched my character’s gender, that guess wasn’t unreasonable.
[Incorrect!]
So it wasn’t that simple.
Would they lose a finger for being wrong?
‘If being wrong costs a finger, maybe it’s better to ask questions that get me closer to the truth.’
But the voice on the radio mocked that thought.
[The participant who guessed wrong is eliminated! How unfortunate!]
[Since the participant playing the ‘uncle’ role has been eliminated, we’ll escort you to the auction hall.]
“Wait! You never said getting it wrong meant immediate elimination!”
The door burst open, and those two burly men appeared again—
their aprons even filthier than before.
They grabbed the unlucky contestant by the legs and dragged him off.
With a single thud, one of his fingers was chopped off mid-struggle.
It rolled to my feet.
The sight made bile rise up my throat.
[Hehe. We never said there’d be multiple chances, did we?]
[Too bad, but the rest of you can keep having fun!]
[This is a game of deduction! No random guessing allowed!]
Damn it.
I glanced toward the student participant. Everyone else did the same.
All eyes turned on the trembling figure clutching their bleeding hand.
‘If it’s not a son… then most likely—’
A daughter.
But I couldn’t jump to conclusions, since not everyone’s “child” had to mean direct parentage.
There’d been an “uncle” role, so it could also be a granddaughter.
‘So… the answer might be granddaughter?’
Still, I couldn’t risk it. Not after watching the previous one get dragged off to the “auction hall.”
That’s where the losers were taken.
‘But even the ghosts seem terrified of being sent there…’
The more I played, the less I understood. They clearly weren’t human, and yet—they feared death.
No, focus. Stop overthinking.
I needed to survive and escape this room first.
The next participant spoke.
Two had been dragged away, one had escaped—seven remained.
“People who live in the same house, fold your finger.”
Just what I’d feared.
They were probably trying to confirm the role of the participant suspected to be the daughter.
Some fingers folded.
Or more accurately—all but two.
I was one of those two.
“……”
The other was the person who’d lost a finger earlier for the “family secret” question.
Everyone’s gaze shifted toward us.
‘So the grandparents must live with them too.’
Apparently, more people shared the same house than I’d thought—it made narrowing down the answers tricky.
[Well, well. It seems this participant still hasn’t been caught once?]
The radio was clearly talking about me—the only one with all ten fingers intact.
“Guess I’ve been lucky,” I muttered.
[Lucky!]
[In games, luck is a skill too! You escaped the first two rounds brilliantly.]
[I wonder how far you’ll survive—]
[Ah, no, I mean, how far you’ll win!]
That little slip said it all.
The others turned their eyes to me—to my intact fingers, specifically.
Would they target me next? Or avoid me because I was too much of a mystery?
I hoped for the latter.
‘I was never good at this kind of brain game…’
Still, I needed to organize my thoughts.
If I wanted to live, I had to act like Dan Seo-hyeok.
He’d focused on players who’d lost the most fingers or reacted oddly to questions.
So, first: Player A.
They’d lost five fingers so far.
Questions that triggered them: marriage, children, military service, family secret, and living together.
That meant A was male, married, had kids, lived with family, and had a secret.
‘Unless there are unexpected roles, he’s likely the grandfather or father.’
But since he had a secret…
‘Most likely the father with a mistress.’
I’d keep that in mind.
Next, players B and C.
They reacted to unusual questions.
B had a child but wasn’t married. Lives with others.
Most likely the lover or illegitimate partner.
C had one of the fewest fingers lost after me.
They had a secret from family.
…No clue what their role was. Damn it.
‘My best targets are A and B.’
The next question began.
[Alright, no dragging your feet—let’s keep the game moving!]
“People whose names don’t appear on the family registry, fold your finger.”
Damn!!
That was me, no question.
I looked down just in time to see my pinky split open, blood welling up fast—
“Aaagh!!!”
No, something invisible—like a blade—was slowly cutting through it.
The slower it moved, the worse the agony became.
It wasn’t just cutting—it was enjoying it.
I tried to pull my hand away, but my arm wouldn’t move—like someone had pinned it down.
[Hehe.]
The radio’s voice laughed gleefully. My vision spun.
I couldn’t even scream anymore. I just clutched the stump where my pinky had been and curled up.
[Oh dear, what a shame!]
[If you’d reached escape without losing a finger, that would’ve been impressive indeed!]
They said it cheerfully.
As if they weren’t mocking me.
I bit my lip hard and forced myself to look up.
‘Who else lost fingers just now?’
I had to keep track before the next question.
The pain was unbearable, but I had to stay alert.
If I wanted even a chance of escape.
“Ugh.”
There—B.
‘Has a child, not married, not on the registry… The lover theory fits even more.’
But surprisingly, C hadn’t lost a finger.
Even though they didn’t live with the family.
Why?
‘Runaway child? Just what kind of family drama is this twisted roleplay supposed to be?’
[Next participant, have you finished thinking of your question?]
[Now that everyone’s lost at least one finger, it’s getting interesting!]
[Those who catch on quick, go ahead and shout the right answer!]
Silence.
No one spoke.
[Too bad. I wonder when we’ll see our second escapee.]
[Still, the tension’s fun, isn’t it? Next question, please!]
The next turn came—
the man presumed to be the “father,” with five fingers gone, fixed his eyes on me.
“People who have a secret involving the mother role, fold your finger.”
No. No, not that.
A chill ran down my spine.
Someone who doesn’t live with them, isn’t family by name, but has a secret with the mother?
That screams mistress.
“Kyah!!”
My other pinky was sliced off instantly this time, bouncing on the floor.
‘Agh—who else?!’
The pain was blinding, but I forced myself to look around.
If someone else reacted, my identity might still stay hidden.
“Ha…”
There—someone did.
Of course—it was C.
“What the hell is that person’s role…?”
Someone muttered exactly what I was thinking.
C didn’t live with the family but was legally part of it, had secrets involving the mother, and also had other family secrets.
It didn’t fit a “runaway child.”
“Phew.”
I steadied my breathing despite the dizziness.
It wasn’t over yet. I couldn’t give up.
“People who are male, fold your finger.”
At that question, several fingers were sliced—A’s, C’s, and others.
But not B’s.
My turn came next.
I asked the question I’d been saving.
“People whose roles aren’t human—fold your finger.”
Almost everyone, including A, was fine.
Only two lost fingers: B and C.
If they weren’t human…
‘Then they’re either animals—or ghosts.’
B, who had a child and lived with the family, was likely a pet.
Pets weren’t on family registries, after all.
Then C—who had family secrets and wasn’t living with them—
‘If C’s a ghost, it makes sense that their name’s still on the family registry.’
After all, the names of the dead remain listed too.
