The hardest part of this game was that even if you were lucky enough to survive one round, that did not mean you were a Master. Victory brought no reward. On the contrary, those who survived the previous round might not remember the contents of the next one at all. There was no fixed rule for who was strong and who was weak.
Even those who had survived until now had fairly good memories, but the stages varied in difficulty. Everyone had stages they remembered less clearly than others. That was their weakness, and that weakness had already determined their fate.
So the best choice was to make everyone who clearly remembered the contents of their weak stages die in the earlier stages. That way, even if your own writing was terrible, you might still survive because your competitors' writing was terrible too.
But this was not a card game. Or rather, the cards were all in their heads. Without telepathy, no one could tell which stage anyone else was better at. And if there were too many Masters in your weak stage, then you were doomed.
The method proposed by the elegant woman was an ordinary solution: use a completely blind draw to forcibly erase everyone's weak stages and leave life and death entirely to luck.
Those with only one weak stage were less inclined to agree, while those who could not remember the next two or three stages were naturally more willing to use this method. But everyone was a black box now. No one knew how much anyone else remembered, so they remained deadlocked, unwilling to act.
"How about this?" Schiller suddenly said. "I'll turn my exemption into a slip of paper too and put it into the drawing box. What do you think?"
"But you only