The audience flinched like marionettes, their limbs moving in stiff, rhythmic patterns that mirrored the twitching of the Illusionist's fingers. Sofia felt her scalp go numb. A primal chill crawled up her spine, seeping into the very marrow of her bones.
"Ah!"
A stifled gasp escaped Sofia's lips. Across the auditorium, the other survivors were beginning to break; their sobs and whimpers pierced the heavy air. Sofia clamped her hand over her mouth, her body shaking violently, terrified that even the slightest sound would provoke the displeasure of the Artist standing tall upon the stage.
He's insane. The thought echoed simultaneously in everyone's mind. Only a monster would use human beings as props for personal entertainment.
The five "dancers" continued their rigid waltz. Their faces remained blank, eyes staring hollowly—soulless vessels under the master's command. The Illusionist clapped his hands, his head tilting at an unnatural angle, projecting a strange note of dramatic disappointment.
"Don't be so gloomy, my friends. Everyone is watching! Come now... smile. Smile. Smile."
As if a single string had been violently yanked, identical grins tore across the faces of the five dancers. It wasn't a natural expression; it was a mechanical stretching of skin, like a row of masks carved from the same mold. Then, the horror deepened.
The audience felt their own lips begin to twitch. Unbeknownst to them, every person in the auditorium began to mimic that hideous, frozen smile. Sofia felt her facial muscles being pulled taut until they ached. She watched the woman beside her grinning broadly while tears streamed down her cheeks—a sight that pierced Sofia's heart.
**[Ding! Subversion Value +10!]**
[Ding! Subversion Value +10!]
...
[Out of the 37 people present, 33 are fully "submerged" in the performance. Total Gain: 1,370 Subversion Value.]
On stage, the man behind the harlequin mask—known in his original world as Kayy—had now fully surrendered himself to the persona of the Artist. From behind his hidden face, he sensed something the audience did not. Predators hiding in plain sight, lurking among the crowd since they had first stumbled into this theater. For the sake of his art, he had plucked these "objects" from the ranks.
"Humph~" The Illusionist hummed a bright, cheerful tune that stood in morbid contrast to the bloody atmosphere. His fingertips danced as if plucking invisible silk threads. "They can sing, they can dance... and they... they can die."
With a violent snap of his wrists, the five dancers leapt into the air. Mid-flight, their necks snapped 180 degrees in perfect unison.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sound of splintering bone rang sharp and clear through the silent auditorium, more lethal than any drum blast. Under the horrified gaze of the audience, the flesh and bone of the dancers withered, hardened, and turned the color of rough brown wood. In the blink of an eye, five lives had been replaced by five hollow wooden puppets, standing frozen as statues.
"NO!"
To the survivors, this was no trick; it was a massacre.
"He's a maniac!"
"Help! I don't want to be a puppet!"
Panic finally shattered the last of their restraint. The mad Artist seemed to drink in their terror as if savoring a fine vintage, his chest heaving in a horrific, silent laugh.
"A magnificent show! I bring you smiles... and I bring you screams!"
With a theatrical sweep of his cloak, he offered a final, respectful bow. Flames erupted around him, and when they died down, the stage was empty. The heavy velvet curtains drew shut, sealing the theater once more.
Suddenly, the invisible weight vanished. The survivors collapsed into their seats, gasping for air as they regained control over their bodies. Without a second command, they scrambled out of the auditorium, fleeing through the darkness of the Hell of Decision.
After an exhausting escape, they found an abandoned cave. Sofia found a small, secluded crevice away from the group. Her breath was still ragged, short and shallow. Trembling, she pulled out her phone. She needed something real to convince herself that this wasn't just a nightmare.
She played back her video, cranking the brightness to the maximum. At first, she only wanted to see the faces of those who were lost, but then Sofia noticed something. The people who had "vanished" in the mist earlier were being forcibly dragged away by figures walking right beside them.
Sofia froze. Her blood felt as though it had stopped flowing, leaving her fingertips cold and stiff. She recognized the faces of those "kidnappers." They were the same five faces of the figures the Illusionist had just turned into wooden puppets.
Impossible. Sofia shook her head, her heart thumping so hard it was painful. Maybe I saw it wrong. Maybe the lighting...
She replayed the video. Once. Twice. The result was the same. Those five "victims" had been predators from the very beginning.
Slowly, she turned toward the crowd inside the cave and began to count silently. One, two, three... forty-one.
Sofia felt her world collapse. She counted again. Still forty-one. Yet she remembered clearly, when they ran from the auditorium, there were only 33 people left.
That meant there were eight creatures inside the cave that were not human. And they were sitting right among her friends, sleeping in the pitch-black darkness.
Cold terror pierced her heart. The mad Artist on stage hadn't been slaughtering humans; he had been performing a "cleansing."
Without a sound, Sofia slipped out of the cave. She didn't dare look at a single face there, fearing she would see abnormal pupils or a smile that was far too wide. Once outside, she ran as fast as she could through the mist, heading back toward the silhouette of the stage beginning to loom in the distance.
She was no longer running from the Illusionist. She was running toward him—because in the heart of this hell full of falsehoods, the madman on stage was the only "truth" that could save her.