Ten Day Ultimatum

"I..." The man in the white coat was calmer than the rest—unfazed, even with a corpse sprawled across the table.
"I’m Zhao Haibo, a doctor. Not that it needs saying. The coat gives it away."
He reached up and adjusted his blood-stained coat before continuing.
"Before I came here, I was in the middle of surgery on a woman. She had a tumor in the brain’s ventricles. It’d been growing fast over the past six months, and she’d developed hydrocephalus. Without a craniotomy, she wouldn’t survive."
"I went in through the frontal lobe using CT guidance to puncture straight into the ventricle. Dangerous work. But she wanted to be there for her son. She was willing to risk it."

"Operating rooms are supposed to stay perfectly still. Not even a breeze. No one expected something stronger than the wind."
"When the earthquake hit, I’d already removed the skull and started cutting through the dura mater. At that point, any mistake could’ve caused a brain contusion—maybe even death."
"I immediately paused the procedure and tried to reattach the skull fragment. Couldn’t leave her brain exposed in all that dust. Would’ve killed her faster than the tumor."

"But it wasn’t easy. I could barely stay upright, let alone realign a ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ piece of bone."
"The nurse next to me kept slamming into me—we were all staggering just to stay on our feet. In a panic, I covered the patient’s head with a sterile sheet and told the team to evacuate. But right as we moved, a rolling cart slammed into my leg. I hit the floor hard."
"Before I could stand up, the ceiling caved in. And everything went dark."

The doctor’s account left everyone unsettled. His story was dense with medical terms. Even if some were fake, who could tell?
"Doctor Zhao, where are you from?" the robust man asked offhandedly.
"I don’t feel compelled to answer that," Zhao replied flatly. "I’ve finished my story."

The robust man opened his mouth, then thought better of it.
"Is it— Is it my turn?" A nervous young man wearing glasses finally spoke, voice soft and unsure. "My name is Han Yimo , I’m a—"
"Wait."
The goat-headed figure interrupted abruptly.

Han Yimo flinched, visibly startled.
"What—what’s wrong?"
"There will now be an {intermission}," the goat-headed figure said, sneering.
"You have twenty minutes."
Everyone blinked.

An {intermission}? Now?
Qi Xia glanced at the small desk clock in the center of the table. Exactly thirty minutes had passed since they woke up.
It was 12:30.
‘So this {intermission} is forced,’ Qi Xia thought.
‘At exactly half past twelve, it triggers automatically, no matter who’s speaking.’

But the game had only been going for thirty minutes. And already a twenty-minute break?
He frowned. But this wasn’t what he should be focusing on.
The person who designed this game wasn’t normal. Trying to think like a sane man would get him nowhere.
All he could do was drill one line into his mind like a mantra:
My name is Li Ming. I’m from Shandong Province.
Repeat it. Burn it in. So that when his turn came, it would roll off the tongue naturally.

Everyone sat in silence, fidgeting in their seats. Despite the so-called {intermission}, the room felt even more suffocating than before.
"Excuse me... are we allowed to talk?" the robust man asked the goat-headed figure.
"Of course. This is your free time. I have no right to interfere."

The man nodded and turned back to Doctor Zhao.
"Doctor Zhao, where are you from?"
Zhao's face darkened.
"You’ve been picking at me since the start. Why the hell should I tell you anything?"
"Don’t take it the wrong way," the robust man replied coolly. "But the more you share, the more solid your story sounds. Everyone else has mentioned their hometowns. Why keep yours a secret?"

"The more I say, the more truthful I sound?" Zhao gave a humorless chuckle. "That’s not how I work. {Too many words lead to sin}. The rules are absolute. I gave my account. That should be enough. Besides... I don’t trust any of you."
"That’s a bit unfair," the robust man said.
"Out of nine people, only one’s the enemy. If we work together, we can find them. But staying quiet just makes you look guilty. This is the second time I’ve asked. Still hiding it?"
He was good. Sharp. In just a few lines, he had Zhao boxed into a corner.

And the logic behind it was sound. The {Liar} was the only one who didn’t need to trust anyone—because they already knew everyone’s roles. So if Zhao kept stonewalling, it would only make him the center of suspicion.
But Zhao wasn’t some gullible fool. The man was a neurosurgeon.
He snorted.
"Then let me ask you something first. Who the hell are you? What do you do?"

"Me?"
The robust man hadn’t expected the tables to turn so fast. His face twitched slightly.
"Yeah. You’ve been grilling me since I finished talking. Let’s even the field. I ask you now, before your story. Fair trade, right?"
The man was quiet for a moment, then nodded.
"Fair enough. I’ve got nothing to hide. My name is Li Shangwu. I’m a police officer."

That word—{police officer}—hit like a hammer.
Everyone looked at him.
Doctor Zhao’s eyes widened.
"A cop?!"

It made sense. This guy had been questioning people methodically since the start. He was also the one who floated the idea of {everyone surviving}—maybe he really meant it.
Zhao’s demeanor shifted.
"In that case... I apologize. I’m from Jiangsu Province."
Qiao Jiajin, the tattooed man, didn’t look pleased.
He leaned forward, face grim.
"Doctor Zhao... are you seriously gonna believe this guy?"

"Huh?" Zhao blinked. "What are you trying to say?"
Qiao tapped his fingers on the table and spoke slowly.
"It’s {intermission} now. Which means... anyone can lie right now."