Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 90:A sick, twisted game

But still, the uncertainty loomed over us. We hadn't even been assigned our roles yet. Who was the mafia? Who was the civilian? Who would we have to trust, and who would we have to fear?

It felt like a game—a sick, twisted game—and we were all just waiting for the next twist. How much longer before we were thrust into the nightmare? How much longer before the food we were eating would be the last comfort we'd get?

And still, no one knew their roles. The waiting was unbearable. Every bite felt heavier, like we were eating on borrowed time.

The automated voice echoed through the room, cool and impersonal, like it was reading from a script that had been rehearsed a thousand times. It sent a chill down my spine as I listened intently.

"Students, assemble at the tables wherever your names are written. We will be assigning your roles as well as giving you your cards."

There was a brief pause, then the voice continued.

"So, the roles are assigned simply by your fingers. If your fingers turn blue, you are a civilian. If your fingers turn red, you are mafia. If your fingers turn green, you are a detective. If your fingers turn yellow, you are a doctor."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could already feel the tension building, every pair of eyes flicking nervously around the room. The stakes were clear now. Each of us was about to be thrust into a dangerous game of survival.

"And one more thing," the voice added, almost casually, "The colors will only be visible to you and no one else. So there's no worry of revealing your role."

My heart skipped a beat. The rules were simple, but the implications were terrifying. The idea of having your role hidden from everyone around you—of being unable to trust anyone, not even yourself—felt like the worst kind of isolation. One moment, I could be a civilian just trying to survive, the next, I could be a mafia member lurking in the shadows, lying to everyone around me.

I couldn't help but glance at my hands, almost as if expecting them to start changing colors right then and there. Would my fingers turn blue, signaling me as a helpless civilian? Would they turn red, marking me as one of the predators in this deadly game? Or would I be given the power to investigate, the green of a detective, or the responsibility of protecting someone, the yellow of a doctor?

But before I could spiral any further, I snapped out of it. The tables were filling up, the assembly beginning. People were scrambling to find their spots, eyes darting as they tried to hide their nerves and excitement. The food no longer held my attention. The game had officially begun.

I walked toward the table to find where my name was written, my fingers trembling just slightly. It was time to play.

The voice echoed through the room, "The colors shall be displayed here on the big screen. Don't worry." It paused, "You have five minutes to occupy your positions."

The countdown began. People hurried to their seats, nerves all around me.

I start scanning the room frantically, feeling more lost with every second that ticks by. My name is nowhere in sight. The crowd is so thick, people shuffling to their seats, all looking at me like I'm some clueless outsider. Maybe I am a lost child in this game, trying to fit in where I don't belong.

After what feels like forever, I finally spot it—my name, tucked between two, well, let's just say, fat individuals. It's hard to miss. They're like mountains of human flesh, sprawling across the table, blocking my path. "Oh, sorry, manners!" I mumble to myself, trying not to judge too harshly, but really, who decided this seating arrangement?

We all wait for the color to appear on our fingers,mine was a bright blue indicating civilian ,i tried to be calm and have a poker face .

I don't know but, i somehow felt relaxed after seeing the colour.