Kael let out a shaky exhale, the corners of his lips twitching into a broken smile. His head still rested against the table, but there was a strange peace in his expression now—like a man who'd carved out his demons with blunt tools.
"I guess…" he muttered, voice raw, "eating yourself from the inside is worth something in this place."
Art watched him silently, then let out a faint scoff. His lips curled into a smirk.
"Crazy bastard," he muttered under his breath.
As the tension slowly settled, the trial continued—one broken truth at a time.
Next up was the peasant boy: No. 5.
He leaned forward with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess it's my turn, huh?"
From his worn tunic to his calloused hands, everything about him screamed poverty. But the way he sat—confident, steady—said he wasn't ashamed of it.
"Based on my outfit, you can probably tell. I was a nobody. A peasant. I didn't have much, and the nobles took what little I did. One day, I caught one of them stealing from our village's tax fund—again. Same bastard who'd 'inspect' our women like livestock, spit on our kids, and walk off laughing."
He looked up, eyes cold. "So I slit his throat in his bathhouse, dumped his body in the pigs' pen, and left a note saying: 'A king who ignores rot will soon reek the same.'"
He leaned back.
"That's all."
Ding.
[+50 Desire Points]
There was silence. No one looked at him with disgust. Some even nodded.
Then came number six.
The girl who had seduced Art earlier now clung to his arm, her posture loose, voice dreamy. Her eyes half-lidded like she was drunk on the chaos around her.
"Hmm~ Me?" she purred.
She twirled her hair, her cheek resting against Art's shoulder.
"I don't really know… I haven't done anything bad, really~ I mean, sins? Pfft~ none that come to mind."
Art glanced down at her, eyes narrowing slightly. His voice was low, but cutting.
"You should remember it. Unless you want to fry."
The girl blinked slowly. "Oh, well…"
She closed her eyes and exhaled softly, her voice shifting—growing quieter. Sadder.
"…I guess running away from my house counts, huh?"
The playful tone was gone now.
"My father… tried to touch me. Again and again. Even after I begged my mom to stop him. Told her what he did. She just… looked at me like I was dirt. Said I was lying. That I was trying to seduce him…"
Her voice cracked slightly. She laughed—but it was hollow, bitter.
"So yeah. I ran. Got picked up by a brothel. Learned how to make men pay instead of take. Guess that's a sin too."
The table remained silent.
Then:
Ding.
[+45 Desire Points]
"Thank you for your truth."
She let go of Art's arm, quietly wiping her eye. But her smile was back a moment later—like the whole thing never happened.
Art didn't say anything.
He just exhaled slowly… then looked toward the person who held card number seven.
His own.
His smirk faded.
The spotlight was shifting.
Now… it was his turn.
Art rested his elbow on the table, fingers to his chin as he stared up at the ceiling.
"Hm… 50 seems to be the max point reward. I've got too many fucked-up stories to choose from… might as well start with one of the lighter ones," he thought.
He leaned forward, eyes calm, voice steady.
"Well, here's mine. It was a night mission. I was injured—bad. Deep inside enemy territory. I thought I was done for."
The room was quiet. Art's tone was emotionless.
"Then… this old man found me. He didn't scream. Didn't run. He patched me up. Let me rest in his home."
A pause.
"A few days later, I got the call. Turns out, he was the target all along."
He looked up, eyes dull.
"I killed him in his sleep. No remorse. No hesitation. It was my job."
The others stared at him in stunned silence.
Then the woman from earlier—the one he'd slept with—grinned softly from her seat, tilting her head.
"Would you kill me too, pretty boy~?" she asked playfully.
Art looked at her, offering a small smile. It should've been creepy—but somehow, it was almost… warm.
"Of course," he said simply. "If it's my job."
Her eyes widened, then she chuckled.
"You're scary as hell~"
They both laughed quietly.
Ding
[+Desire Points: 50]
Just like that, his truth was accepted.
No punishment. No scream. Just the cold satisfaction of honesty.
As time passed, the rest of the participants in Art's room gave their confessions. Thanks to the horror of Kael's earlier punishment, none dared to lie. Everyone walked out alive
Later, outside the dark rooms, the prostitute-like woman approached Art again, smiling with half-lidded eyes.
"Hey~ wanna go again?" she asked with a grin, wagging her fingers in a teasing gesture.
Art blinked. "Hm?"
She made a suggestive motion—forming a circle with one hand and poking it with a finger repeatedly.
Art raised a brow. "Later. I'm waiting for something."
"Aww…"
She pouted playfully.
"Don't try to act cute," Art said, expression still unreadable. "You're already beautiful the way you are."
She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. Her smile softened. Then unexpectedly, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Art noticed.
He paused, eyes lingering for a moment—but he didn't know what to say. He wasn't built for comfort.
"…I didn't know you were a prostitute," he muttered, looking away. "Figured that was just your style."
She wiped her eye and gave a half-laugh.
"I guess I am different…"
They sat beside each other in silence, two strangers bound by honesty and survival.
Even in a system built to expose the worst of humanity… somehow, something human still lingered.
Art leaned against the wall, adjusting his collar as the tension in the hallway finally began to settle. The woman beside him, still catching her breath, leaned with one hand on her thigh, sweat glistening on her skin.
"By the way…" Art said casually, glancing at her. "You never told me your name."
She chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You want my real name or my brothel name?"
"Real name," he replied, his tone firm but calm.
She laughed again, a teasing lilt in her voice. "You're funny, Art. Most guys don't care enough to ask."
Art raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes with a playful smirk. "It's Emery. You should be grateful—I was popular back in my world. I didn't give anyone my real name."
Art nodded, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I suppose I'll take that as an honor."
"You should," she said, bumping her shoulder lightly against his before stretching with a yawn. "Now let's see if this twisted place lets me rest after that…"