Werewolf: The Gamble of Freedom

Above the carousel in the amusement park stood an abandoned observation tower. Its narrow, crumbling staircase made it easy to overlook. Kevin, Minghao, Lucy, and I quietly circled around to its base and slipped in unnoticed amidst the chaos. We quickly climbed to the second-floor room. The moment the rusty iron door shut behind us, the world fell silent.

The room was dim, lit only by a sliver of light seeping through the window cracks, casting our expressions into partial shadow—cautious, alert, but resolute.

I leaned against the cold wall and spoke in a low voice, "From the information we have, Player 12 is definitely a good guy. Those who were quick to accuse him and steer suspicion his way are the most suspicious."

Kevin frowned. "Then the werewolves will definitely go after him tonight."

I shook my head. "No, they won't waste the opportunity. He's already under suspicion. They'll let the others vote him out during the day."

Minghao, seated on the dusty floor, drew lines with a twig. "The one who suggested the witch reveal herself is the most suspicious."

Lucy blurted out, "That was Player 4!"

I raised a hand. "Not necessarily. From a good guy's perspective, wanting the witch to speak up can make sense too. Let's mark Player 4 as suspicious, but the one I'm more interested in is Player 2."

All three turned to look at me, puzzled.

I continued, "Do you remember who first mentioned that 'a broken collar equals elimination'?"

Kevin paused, then said slowly, "Player 2… he said it first."

"Exactly," I nodded. "But here's the problem—the system never publicly stated that werewolves eliminate players by breaking their collars.That's not something someone outside the situation would know."

"You mean… he's a werewolf?" Kevin's eyes narrowed.

"At the moment, he's our biggest suspect," I said calmly. "But we can't vote him just yet. We'll set a trap."

Lucy ran a finger along the edge of her skill device. "Then should I just use poison on him tonight?"

I shook my head. "No, don't waste it. We'll use this to draw out the whole wolf line."

Minghao looked up, a trace of admiration in his eyes. "You're becoming a real player, Aaron."

I didn't respond. I just smiled faintly.

Just then, footsteps echoed in the distance. We instantly held our breath.

The second round had begun.

The amusement park was cloaked in an unsettling mist, its neon lights flickering eerily from broken signs. Scattered teacups, tilted roller coaster tracks, and swaying stuffed dolls added to the creeping unease.

Players emerged from hiding, expressions wary, maintaining distance from one another.

Player 1 gripped his device tightly, mumbling as he headed toward the Ferris wheel, "Don't stand out... Don't get noticed..."

Player 7 moved steadily near the haunted house, emotionless, collecting coins while subtly watching the backs of several players.

Player 11 crouched beneath the swing ride, moving with extreme precision. He already had two coins in hand, a faint smirk on his face as if awaiting an opportunity.

Player 15 cautiously searched near the carousel. Upon finding a coin, he swiftly moved away, scanning his surroundings with constant vigilance.

At the edge of the bumper car arena, Players 6 and 10 were searching for coins carefully.

"Here… got one," 10 whispered, digging a coin from the dirt.

"Quick, put it away," 6 urged, eyes darting. "It's too open here. We need to move."

Just as they turned to leave, a nearby abandoned game machine emitted a sudden clank—

It sounded like a mechanism activating... or someone deliberately stepping on metal.

"Did you hear that?" 6's face turned pale. He spun to run.

But it was too late.

Two shadows lunged from behind the machine—fast and silent.

"W-Werewolves!" 6 screamed in terror, trying to flee, but slipped and crashed to the ground.

"Help me!!"

He reached out to 10, voice trembling.

10's pupils contracted, sweat pouring down his face. He opened his skill device—"Choose a player to guard." He didn't hesitate. He chose himself.

Then he bolted, sprinting across the amusement park, leaving 6 behind without a second thought.

"You're leaving me?!" 6's desperate scream tore through the night—but no one answered.

The werewolves adjusted their target and pounced on the unprotected 6.

He scrambled to rise, but one of the wolves slammed him back down.

He shouted, struggled, cursed, but the wolves didn't kill him. Instead, they held him down and used a special device to destroy his collar.

Beep—beep—beep—crack!

The red light on 6's collar blinked, then went dark. He was eliminated.

He collapsed to the ground, breath ragged with anger and disbelief, eyes locked on the direction 10 had fled.

The werewolves vanished into the darkness.

Meanwhile, 10 hid inside a dilapidated souvenir shop, slumping against the wall, gasping for air.

He stared at the cooldown timer on his shield, his thoughts in turmoil:

"I couldn't save him… I had to survive… It was the rational choice…"

But he knew—it wasn't rational. It was selfish.

Behind a cracked wall of an old arcade nearby, Players 4 and 2 had just patrolled over.

They saw everything through the shattered window.

"He… he just ran?" 4 said in a low voice, face pale.

"Strange… looks like he left that guy to die," 2 muttered, his eyes glinting with sharp calculation. "Do you think… he's a werewolf?"

"Could be," 4 replied grimly. "We don't even know his identity. He barely spoke during discussion earlier, and now he just ran when something happened… Doesn't feel like something a good guy would do."

"Yeah. If he's just a civilian, fine. But that reaction—it was too fast. Like he was hiding something." 2 spoke with conviction, but inside, he was already quietly delighted.

A familiar, cold, and emotionless voice echoed once again above the amusement park:

"The second night has ended. All players, please proceed to the central hall. It is now daytime."

Upon hearing the announcement, players who had been hiding or searching for coins throughout the park halted their actions. They emerged one by one—from the carousel, haunted house, maze, and even from beneath the roller coaster—and made their way toward the central hall.

Kevin, Minghao, Lucy, and I exchanged a glance, quickly descended from the observation tower, and joined the others.

In the hall, the players gradually gathered. The tension remained high; everyone was discreetly watching one another, silently measuring expressions. Then—

"Wait… isn't someone missing?"

"One, two, three…" someone muttered as they counted under their breath, their face darkening.

"Where's Player 6?"

"Didn't he leave with us last night?"

"Did anyone see him?"

Everyone looked around. Sure enough, Player 6's spot was empty, and even his game device was nowhere in sight.

Moments later, the system voice returned—still cold and mechanical:

"Notification: Player 6 has been eliminated. Remaining players, please continue pursuing your victory objective."

The room fell silent. For a moment, it felt like the air had frozen.

Suddenly, Player 2 stepped forward, his voice steady but firm:

"Last night, I was hiding on the slide platform with Player 4. I saw it clearly—Player 6 was attacked, and Player 10 was nearby. But instead of helping, he turned and ran. Not once did he try to intervene."

The hall erupted.

"What?!"

"You mean he just watched it happen?"

"He's definitely suspicious!"

Voices clashed, rising in intensity.

Player 5—Shura—stood up slowly, his voice cold and heavy, filled with intimidating authority:

"Enough. That kind of reaction doesn't come from a good guy. If it were me and I saw an ally being attacked, I'd rush in. Only someone with something to hide runs away without a word."

He narrowed his eyes at Player 10.

"If you're not afraid of being misunderstood, reveal your role. Otherwise, I'll vote you out myself."

All eyes turned to Player 10. His face went pale, then flushed. His lips trembled.

"I... I'm not... I was just scared... I didn't want to die too..."

"Scared? That's your excuse? Then why leave Player 6 behind?"

Shura pressed him, voice sharp.

"If you're lying, get ready to leave."

"Yeah, that sounds just like a wolf!"

"If he's a werewolf, this behavior makes sense."

"Could he be a guard?"

"Why would a guard let someone die like that?"

The debate exploded. Yet most eyes were already focused on Player 10.

Watching them, I felt uneasy. Player 10's actions were strange, but I held back from speaking. In this game, truth always hides behind masks—taking a side too soon can be a deadly trap.

Lucy whispered beside me,

"If he's actually innocent, this is just tragic."

Kevin shook his head calmly,

"But we can only judge based on actions."

Minghao said nothing. He observed quietly, as if recording everyone's reactions in his mind.

The direction of this round was now unmistakable.

All suspicion had turned to Player 10.

Then, suddenly, he erupted.

"You're all full of shit!"

He sprang up, face flushed with rage, his voice echoing through the hall like a snapped string.

"Which one of you wouldn't run in that situation?! The collar snapped open, and just hearing that sound nearly made me lose it! You think you're brave? Go save someone next time! It's easy to judge when you're standing there doing nothing!"

Silence fell, momentarily stunned by his outburst.

But then—like a spark to gasoline—mockery, doubt, and condemnation flared up even more fiercely.

"The louder you yell, the guiltier you look!"

"If you were innocent, you wouldn't be this hysterical!"

"Sure, fear is human—but abandoning your teammate without a word? Sounds like a wolf play to me!"

"That was the worst acting I've ever seen."

"You said nothing when Player 6 went down, and now you're shouting? What do you take us for, idiots?"

Anger swept through the room like a firestorm.

Player 10 stood there, eyes wide, breathing hard. The more he tried to explain, the more powerless he became.

I watched him—if he really was innocent, this was unbearably cruel. But right now, his reactions did seem like a cover-up.

Shura let out a cold chuckle and added,

"Afraid of dying? Great. Once we vote you out, you won't have to worry anymore."

There was no need to push the vote further. The direction was set.

Player 10 had become public enemy number one.

I lowered my gaze, my mind clear:

"Now's not the time to speak. Emotions are drowning out logic—anything said now will only get twisted. Better to stay quiet... and keep observing."

I glanced around subtly—some faces burned with fury, others remained blank, and some had shifty eyes. Every reaction was a clue.

I silently noted those who were pushing the anger hardest.

Then came the prompt from the system:

"All players, please vote."

The hall plunged into a heavy silence. Everyone watched everyone else, yet avoided eye contact. The air grew thick, stifling.

Player 10 sat still, face pale, fists clenched, veins bulging. He no longer defended himself—just stared at the floor, already resigned.

Voting began.

Red lights glowed from each device, casting eerie reflections across the players' faces—like exposing their inner thoughts.

I scanned the room. Many weren't voting out of logic, but from pressure, from anger, from a desire to prove they "belonged" to a side.

The results appeared—

[Player 10 received 8 votes. Majority reached. Elimination confirmed.]

He bolted up, chair scraping loudly. His eyes blazed with helpless rage.

"You'll regret this."

No one answered. The system voice returned:

"Player 10, eliminated. Please leave the game immediately."

He clenched his jaw and stormed out.

The hall remained silent.

No cheers. No sighs. Just an unspoken understanding:

This wasn't justice. It was a purge—driven by fear and fury.