Doomsday Wonderland Vol. 13: Sleepwalking in Dreamland [Complete]

1609: Acute Intuition

Ten minutes passed in the blink of an eye, especially when focused on negotiation.

When Abby let out a soft "ah," Wu Yiliu felt as if she had just started casting [Priest's Roman Collar] not long ago. "Time's up," she said, turning her head to look at him, her expression a mix of worry and anticipation.

He exhaled, straightened his upper body, and leaned back in his chair.

"How did it go?" Wu Yiliu tilted his head, looking at the two on the couch, smiling lightly.

If his experiences had taught him anything, it was this invaluable lesson: sometimes a person's outward appearance is even more important than what they actually are.

Whenever Wu Yiliu acted as if he had everything under control, he found that others would gradually cede control to him— like now.

"We...we understand," Cuining said hesitantly. "If it's really as you say... then we indeed have no need to object."

"We'll let you implement this plan, meaning we're on board, right? You won't do anything else to us, will you?" Pence asked, still not entirely at ease.

Wu Yiliu nodded. "Of course."

If these four players were to propose a plan, not only would he be distrustful, but honestly, he didn't think they could come up with anything good enough to change his mind.

He had asked the players to come up with a plan to achieve this exact result: while they were discussing, hesitating, wracking their brains, and considering all angles, Wu Yiliu could slowly penetrate their thoughts with his ideas.

He occasionally dropped hints and guided the conversation— eventually, when they settled on a plan, it seemed that nobody realized that every step was actually Wu Yiliu's intention.

"That's settled, then." Wu Yiliu clapped his hands as if a weight had been lifted, smiling. "It wasn't easy, but we're finally on the same side. I'm pleased."

He looked at Abby— like him, her legs were still tied to the chair. Her hands lay calmly on her knees, pressing down on paper and pen; during their conversation, neither of them had unconsciously untied themselves, indicating no attempts at brainwashing.

"You managed not to whisper, so you must be sincere."

As he spoke, Wu Yiliu bent down to untie the ropes from his legs— the "untying" turned from a warning signal into a necessary step in his plan, making him think sardonically that it would be funny if the plan he thought he'd come up with was actually whispered to him by the players.

Of course, he knew that was impossible.

"When did we have a chance to whisper to you?" Pence snorted, almost unable to contain his resentment. "You've blocked every angle."

His unhappiness was understandable.

Wu Yiliu stood, stamping his feet to get the blood flowing again, then leisurely walked over to the couch, observing them for a few seconds.

As people beyond saving, they were excessively lifelike. Their chests still heaved, eyelashes occasionally blinked; due to being strangled, veins bulged on their red foreheads, and their heavy breathing was clearly audible.

Looking down at these bodies, Wu Yiliu couldn't help but recall Milan's comment from years ago, "lacking human flavor." Perhaps she was right.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Pence cried out. "You said you had a few months left, right?"

"Three months," Wu Yiliu replied, looking at Pence and tilting his head. The mouth was Pence's, but the speaker wasn't; he continued to look at Pence as he answered, giving him one last shred of respect.