Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 98:First conference

We rushed down to the second floor, to the conference room ,the only room in the hallway which had boards and lightings.

Now... it was something else.

On the towering display screens, six faces slowly lit up—one by one.

Six civilians.

Six lives.

Six people we might have passed by yesterday, talked to, maybe even laughed with.

Gone.

Just like that.

A chill passed over me. I clenched my fists, trying not to let my thoughts spiral. But there it was—that ugly, creeping one:

"I hope none of them found a power card."

God.

What was wrong with me?

People died, and I was worried about cards?

When did I become like this?

When did surviving mean stepping over someone else's grave and hoping they didn't pick up anything useful on the way down?

I looked around. Kate's face was unreadable. Nathan was....umm Nathan. Keith... surprisingly quiet.

Was everyone else thinking it too?

Or was I the only one becoming something I swore I'd never be?

"Now it's time to vote out the murderers roaming in town. Proceed to the first conference hall for the voting process." The voice rang through the building like an announcement at a haunted airport.

Without wasting a second, we bolted toward the elevator like it was the last slice of pizza at a party. Half the players chose to take the stairs—maybe out of panic, or maybe they just didn't trust the elevator. Fair.

Once inside the hall, rows of sleek chairs stretched across the polished floor like an intense board meeting was about to happen—except instead of discussing budgets, we were voting out killers.

We slipped into our seats quietly, watching others trickle in. The energy was tense, a mix of suspicion and fear, like everyone was suddenly wearing masks behind their real faces.

Then came the voice of panic.

"Any detective? Please guide us here!"
A girl near the front stood up, her voice a little shaky but loud enough to echo.

Someone else, a taller girl chewing gum like she didn't care if the world ended, replied,
"Detectives change every round. So calm down. No one's really on the radar until they are."

The word detective suddenly felt too sharp.
People looked around, not just at who was sitting where—but how they were sitting.
Was that guy too quiet?
Why is she sweating?
Why is Keith leaning like he's auditioning for a cologne ad?

Nobody trusted anyone anymore.

No one replies.

A silence hangs in the room thick as fog. People glance around, waiting for someone—anyone—to step up. But the detectives stay quiet. Whether they're truly scared or just playing a long game, no one can tell.

Then, a man from the left corner of the room stands up, cool and collected, like he's just been waiting for this moment.

"I think the detectives are either too cowardly or too dumb to take this chance," he says, voice calm but dripping with judgment. "So as of this round, I say we skip. Better that than wrongly voting out an innocent mafia."

Wait.
Innocent mafia?
That gets a few heads turning.

Someone coughs. Another person whispers, "Did he just say innocent mafia?"

Keith raises an eyebrow. "That guy's either brave... or completely out of his mind."

Kate mutters, "Or both."

Nathan just narrows his eyes, quietly filing that line away like it might matter later.

And me? I just sit there thinking how we've officially entered the part of the game where every word could be a trap—and silence, even worse.

An invisible screen flickers to life in front of each of us—hovering mid-air like a high-tech hallucination. It looks just like a giant transparent smartphone. Pictures and names float in a sleek interface, and all we have to do is swipe right to vote someone in, or left to skip them.

Everyone is suddenly silent, eyes flicking across holographic profiles, fingers swiping at nothing. From the outside, it must've looked like we were all conducting some strange, futuristic orchestra—our hands dancing in the air, synchronized and eerie.

I look around. It's almost beautiful... if it weren't for the fact that this was basically digital execution.

"No one is voted, this round is adjourned."The voice cuts through the silence like a cold judge.

Relieved murmurs ripple across the room, a few people slump back in their chairs, others give nervous glances—some grateful, some suspicious. The mafia had survived again. Or maybe the civilians just couldn't decide.

As we step out of the room, the illusion of safety cracks a little more. The tension clings to us like static.

"We need to gather supplies for lunch," Kate says, pulling her hair back.
"Forget breakfast. We can't afford to act like it's a three-course hotel meal."

Keith sighs dramatically. "Brunch is dead. So is my will to live."

"Not as dead as the six civilians from last night," Nathan adds coldly.

We all pause for a second.

Yup. The game's still very much on.