Oil Painting

There was also a desk lamp on the desk that belonged to Wang Jie.

Before Jiang Cheng could take a closer look, Xia Qiang quietly said from beside him, "Take a look at these chairs."

Huai Yi and the shop owner shifted their gaze. Neatly arranged around the long table were many high-backed chairs, giving the room a very formal feel.

After entering Room 19, the shop owner had looked around nervously. Still, he forced down his fear and whispered, "These chairs and this table are the same as the ones in the other rooms. Every room in our shop has more or less the same setup."

"The chair at the far end is for the script host. The others are for the players, each of whom takes on a corresponding role."

From the shop owner's explanation, they learned that the players sat around this table and played the corresponding murder-mystery game under the host's guidance.

Jiang Cheng looked at the chairs and slowly said, "That's not what he meant. He meant the number of chairs." After a pause, he continued, "There are eleven chairs here. One is for the host, leaving ten. In other words, ten players actually take part in the murder-mystery game."

A moment later, Huai Yi's eyes narrowed as he immediately caught on. "There are exactly ten of us."

Including Yuan Xiaotian, who had already been killed, there were five people in Li Mengyao and Xia Qiang's group, the siblings Lin Muyun and Lin Muwan, and Jiang Cheng's group of three. That made ten in all.

"We're the players in this script." Xia Qiang let out a breath, his tone revealing his helplessness and unwillingness to accept it.

"What's that?" the shop owner suddenly asked. His urgent tone startled everyone.

Following the direction of the shop