The first game began.
All the round tables slowly descended to the floor, replaced by long, narrow oval tabletops. Different symbols were printed at either end of each oval, representing the identities of those who were supposed to stand there.
Those sitting out had no tables, but no staff came to tell them where to stand either. Seeing this, they all found matches that interested them and stood nearby.
Some participants were dissatisfied, believing this might interfere with their actions, but the organizers did not step in, and most people dared not voice their anger.
Ever since they had boarded the ship, the atmosphere had been deeply wrong. A life-or-death game should have been serious and tense, yet today's game carried an added air of strangeness.
Schiller observed the changes in the room. After a moment of stunned silence, people began searching for their corresponding symbols.
He saw the woman who had approached him earlier walk toward one side of a table. Schiller put away the aerosol canister in his hand, slipped through the crowd without drawing attention, and headed behind her.
The sound of wind brushed past his ears. The hubbub of the crowd grew more and more distant, blurred ripples spreading through the edges of his vision, while that long dress became increasingly clear.
But just as Schiller reached the woman's rear flank, he saw someone standing opposite her. Though the man wore a mask, Schiller still recognized him as Oliver Queen.
Schiller shifted his gaze from the woman's back to Oliver. A second before his vision focused, the clear portion of his sight was veiled in mist once more.
Oliver's condition was striking enough.
As Schiller concentrated, the already indistinct scene before him became even blurrier, and the outlines of everything began to ripple.
The silver-haired bank