Natasha stood by the fireplace, turning the coals with a pair of tongs. "They know you? What do you mean, they know you?"
"I mean, I mean..." Schiller hesitated, then put on an awkward expression. "They've heard of me."
"Isn't that a good thing? Who would complain about being too famous?"
Schiller's lips moved, but in the end, he did not say the word "con man." Only then did the others catch on. Stark folded his arms and drawled, "You mean they've heard about all your glorious exploits?"
Schiller nodded. "Not all of them. Just the more recent ones, including my performances in the last few games."
"Who's so security-conscious?" Natasha immediately changed tack when Schiller glared at her. "I mean, who's got such a big mouth? Why spread that around for no reason? Still, don't be sad. You're famous across the Multiverse now."
"Was his reputation in the Multiverse ever small?" Stark rolled his eyes, then said with no small amount of glee, "Looks like you were too high-profile before and stirred up public outrage."
Schiller let out a long sigh, recalling what he had encountered in the previous two games.
Both games he had joined were intelligence games. He had discovered that such games were usually shorter and less physically demanding, making them ideal for a round before dinner.
Just as Schiller had expected, intelligence games generally took place in enclosed rooms. They were either quizzes, escape rooms, or stage-clearing challenges like Ragdoll killer. Overall, they were not particularly difficult.
But the difficulty of the entire game did not lie in the game itself. It lay in the assorted people from other universes encountered within it, who might even be alternate versions of themselves from another universe.
Recently, however, a rumor had been spreading among the various teams—the