Ten Day Ultimatum

The silence dragged on for several minutes as everyone struggled to process the revelation. Finally, Police Officer Li broke the stillness by flipping over his identity card. As expected, it read {Liar}.
One by one, the others turned over their cards. Each one showed the same word: {Liar}.

"You’re incredible..." Lawyer Zhang gave Qi Xia an approving look. "But how did you know we were all dead?"
Qi Xia pointed at his scratch paper. "It wasn’t a hard conclusion. I kept thinking—why is the room sealed? Why are there lines drawn on the walls and floor? Why is there a clock in the center of the table? And why did the goat-headed figure enforce an {intermission}?"
"A normal person uses 0.007 cubic meters of air per minute. That’s 0.42 cubic meters per hour. Ten people in this room would burn through 4.2 cubic meters every hour."

"According to the goat-headed figure, we slept here for 12 hours and played for nearly another hour. That’s thirteen hours. Multiply 4.2 by thirteen, and you get {54.6} cubic meters." Qi Xia circled the {54.6} on his paper and said, "That’s how much air we should’ve used." He glanced around the room. "But how much air does this room actually hold?"
Everyone followed his gaze.
"The organizers left us hints," Qi Xia went on, pointing to the wall. "They marked the walls and floor with squares, each about a meter in length."

"The walls are 3 by 4, and the floor and ceiling are 4 by 4. So the room measures 4 by 4 by 3 meters. That’s 48 cubic meters."
"How does a 48-cubic-meter room supply 54.6 cubic meters of air?" Qi Xia’s face darkened. "By now, the air should’ve thinned. But none of us are gasping."
Doctor Zhao studied the paper and pointed to a different number: {49.14}. "And this number?"

Qi Xia met his eyes, dead serious. "That’s the amount of air needed for {nine people}."
"Nine?" Doctor Zhao blinked. "There are ten of us in here. Why’d you only count nine?"
"I made a bold assumption," Qi Xia said flatly. "That the Goat Head isn’t human. Even then, the math still doesn’t work."

"What kind of lunatic are you?" Doctor Zhao muttered, eyes narrowing. "You actually ran with that?"
"Is that so hard to grasp?" Qi Xia gestured toward the headless corpse nearby. "Doctor Zhao, with your background—you know how strong the human skull is. You think someone could crush ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) one with just a hand?"
Doctor Zhao said nothing. He knew the answer. Even snapping a rabbit’s skull barehanded wasn’t easy.

Qi Xia turned back to the group. "Time’s short. I’ve written down my vote. Now it’s your turn. But listen—if even one person disagrees with me, we all face {punishment}."
Everyone stiffened. They were preparing to vote out a creature who’d already proven it could kill. The question now: would he accept it?
Qiao Jiajin shot a glance at the goat-headed figure from the corner of his eye. Still motionless. Despite the lifeless mask, an eerie pressure radiated off it. Qiao Jiajin clenched his jaw. "Goddamn bastard. It’s now or never!" He grabbed the pen and scrawled one word on his paper: {Mortal Goat}.

Everyone else hesitated—then followed suit.
Qi Xia looked around. All of them had written the same thing: {Mortal Goat}.
As the clock struck 1 o’clock, ending the game, a thick tension settled in the room. The goat-headed figure stepped forward and said, "Congratulations, everyone. You’ve completed the {Liar} game. Now, it’s time to deliver the {punishment} to the loser."
Before anyone could react, he pulled a pistol from his pocket, aimed it at his heart, and pulled the trigger.

The shot exploded like a bomb in the room. The sound ricocheted off the walls, drilling into their skulls.
The goat-headed figure clutched his chest—and began to scream. A raw, blood-chilling scream that overpowered the echo of the gunshot. His body shook violently. Blood gushed from his mouth with every scream, spraying the floor.
The screaming lasted over a minute, before devolving into guttural moans and choked gurgles.

"What... the hell..." Qiao Jiajin stared, frozen. "Is he actually doing this?"
A few minutes later, the noise stopped. The body fell still.
At that moment, everyone realized—they could move their legs again.

Doctor Zhao stood first. He walked over, crouched beside the goat-headed figure, and checked his neck for a pulse. Nothing. "Hey!" he barked at the corpse. "The game’s over. How do we get out?!"
But the body had nothing left to say. The others stood slowly. Nothing had changed—except now there was a corpse in the room.
"This is insane... Are we really dead?" Tian Tian muttered, still shaken. She lifted her hand—and slapped herself hard.

"Ow!" she winced. "Still hurts... Why the hell can I still feel pain if I’m dead?"
Qiao Jiajin gave her a flat look. "What, you died before?"
"I..." Tian Tian froze. "No... I don’t think so?"

"So how would you know what being dead feels like? Maybe this is hell." Qiao Jiajin glanced at the two corpses on the ground. His stomach turned. "I can still feel pain. I can still smell that stench."
"Then what are we?" Han Yimo asked quietly. "Souls?"
Hearing that, Doctor Zhao checked himself. Pulse, heartbeat, temperature—all normal. He was breathing. But it didn’t feel like he needed to. Death, he thought, was something beyond medicine. Beyond logic.

"Whatever we are," Police Officer Li said, "I’m not staying locked in this damn box forever." He walked up to the goat-headed figure and picked up the gun lying beside him. The move startled everyone—they instinctively backed off.
Police Officer Li opened the barrel, checked the mechanism, and ejected the magazine. There had only been one bullet. The gun was now useless. That brought a strange mix of relief... and dread.
Qiao Jiajin, gathering his nerve, stepped forward and pulled off the goat mask.

Underneath was a face—rotting, ruined, with flesh half-decayed and eyes rolled back in their sockets. No signs of life.
"That face..." Lawyer Zhang muttered from the side. "That’s fucking terrifying."