Death's Deception

Chapter 10: President vs Bomber

The static flickered. The screen pulsed faintly, as if alive. Then the image sharpened—blue light washing over a sterile, windowless chamber. A man stood motionless in the center of the room, cloaked in a black suit that clung to his figure with unnatural precision. His face was hidden behind a smooth black mask, void of expression save for the sharp, sinister smile carved into it.

His presence was cold. Controlled. Dangerous.

"You've passed the Test Room, Tatsuya," the man said, voice calm and devoid of emotion. "Not many do. Few survive... and even fewer emerge unbroken."

Tatsuya Kuroda stood before him, unflinching. The harsh light accentuated the shadows beneath his eyes—echoes of the torment he had endured. But his gaze did not waver. He had survived. And something inside him had changed.

The masked man pulled a smartphone from his coat pocket. With a flick of his thumb, he dialed. "Boss," he said, voice clipped. "Experiment number 389 has passed the Test Room."

There was a pause. A faint murmur on the other end of the call.

The man lowered the phone. He turned toward Tatsuya, his stance like a blade unsheathed. But Tatsuya didn't move. Only a flicker crossed his features—the barest hint of acknowledgment.

Then, silence. And the memory faded.

---

The present returned with a scream.

A blaring alarm erupted through the dormitory. Red lights flashed, cutting through the early morning gloom like knives. The cracked windows glowed with the amber of dawn, but there was no warmth in the light.

Tatsuya Kuroda was the first to rise. "The next phase... it's begun," he murmured. His voice was quiet but steady. Unshakeable.

Around him, the others stirred. Confusion, fear, dread. They had barely survived yesterday. And yet another trial loomed.

Aoi Himura pulled her knees to her chest. "Is this... another test? I'm not ready for this," she whispered, trembling. Her wide eyes found Shun. She didn't say it, but her plea was clear.

Shun Hayashi ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "We have no choice but to move forward. We're not broken yet. Not if we hold together."

Mei Tsukino sat frozen. "The gas... the silence... it's still in my head," she whispered. "I don't want to lose myself."

Daichi Hayasaka leaned back, grinning bitterly. "Trust? Forget it. This game's a trap—and we're all caught. But I'm not done fighting."

Ren Sakamoto stretched lazily, though his eyes were sharp. "We survived the first game. That means something. It means we can keep going."

His gaze met Tatsuya's.

Tatsuya didn't flinch. "Survival isn't just about strength," he said. "It's about control. Knowing who you really are when everything falls apart."

The silence after was thick, heavy.

Then came the voice.

"Hello, players," the Accountant said through the loudspeakers. The voice was mechanical, cold, and deliberate. "Good morning. Today begins the second game."

Mei flinched. "Second game...? I... I don't want to play anymore. Please... just let me stop."

"If you win, you escape," the Accountant replied. "The stakes are higher now. The next game is called... President vs Bomber."

Tension cracked like glass in the air.

"Two teams," the Accountant explained. "Red and Blue. Each team sits in separate rooms."

Visuals unfolded in their minds. Two rooms. Identical. Sterile. Cold. Each room held a table. Three cards laid on each.

"The Blue Team has three players: one President, two Players. The Red Team has three players: one Bomber, two Players."

Tatsuya exhaled. "President or Bomber... The stakes just got real. Trust no one."

"Separate rooms?" Aoi said. "This game's designed to break us down further."

"We have to be sharper," Shun added. "Read deeper. The bomber's goal? To destroy. The president's? To survive. We can't afford mistakes."

"I just want this nightmare to end..." Mei muttered.

"Now it's a real game of shadows," Daichi chuckled darkly. "One wrong move, and everything blows up."

Ren folded his arms. "Divide and conquer... But weakness in numbers means nothing if you control the game."

"Neither team knows who among their members holds the special role," the Accountant continued. "No player may reveal their role."

Eyes narrowed. Suspicion swelled.

"The game lasts five days. Each day, one team will choose a player to send to the opposing room. The player will be blindfolded. The receiving team must identify them—but they won't know who it is."

A slow clock ticked in their minds.

"Ten minutes," said the Accountant. "Then they return. The next day, the roles reverse."

Then came the twist.

"If the President of the Blue Team is sent to the Red Team, the Blue Team immediately loses one heart. If the Bomber is sent to the Blue Team, the Red Team loses one heart."

Their breaths hitched.

"After five days, the team with the most hearts wins. The winning team's players each gain one life. The losers lose one."

The words sank like stones in water. Heavy. Inevitable.

No one moved.

No one dared to speak.

And so began the game where every decision could blow everything to pieces.

President vs Bomber.

Let the shadows fall.

Next In Chapter 11:Shadows Of Deception