We burst into the library, and everyone else is already there.The Dragon sits upright at the end of a long table, reading, and he speaks without looking up: “You’re te.”

  “How can we be te when two of us weren’t invited in the first pce?” I protest, and he sets the book aside. Its title appears as blurred glyphs in this library’s low light, but I can still see the cover’s leathery scales; the Dragon raises both his palms in the air and frowns.

  The Horse pulls out three wood chairs; I join her and take a seat in the one furthest from the table’s head. There’s still one seat left by the enormous Ox and the spyed-out Rabbit—the Rat, however, continues to stand:

  “...”

  It feels as though there’s an invisible thread of fate that’s being held taut between the two young men. The meeting’s leader clears his throat.

  “Thank you everyone for attending this conference today. I know it was at short notice, but the subject at hand is incredibly important, and what we’re about to discuss could only be reasonably brought up after the third trial. Horse, Ox, Rabbit, and everyone else, I’ve called you here for a reason. It’s—”

  “To confess what you’ve done?” the Rat snaps. “You were the mastermind of that Pig Tiger dumpster fire. No one’s gonna believe that you’re a vilger even if you call a meeting to try and save your skin.”

  Dragon smiles uneasily, in another fragile expression. Then all the tension leaves him, and he ughs lightly, leaning back in his chair.

  “That’s right, I’m a wolf. But that’s not what this meeting’s about.”

  The Rat’s mouth gapes open, as the Dragon bulldozes through. The tall, amused young man talks confidently but quick. “Just because I’m a Wolf doesn’t mean that I’ve lost the right to speak. Even a condemned man is granted some st words, though I’d rather pose a final question to everyone else instead—I want everyone to remember: what’s our ultimate goal?”

  “To win, obviously.” Rat snaps as he leans into the shelf, and books and dust toppling to the floor. When the case stops shaking, all eyes return back to our library’s ‘overseer.’

  “Take this seriously. Think about what we want as people, not as pyers.”

  “We want to be kind and good?” Horse pips up with her own answer.

  The Rabbit dutifully raises her hand, contributing another murmured statement: “Mmf mmf mmf yawn ermf escape…”

  “No, no, no.” Dragon replies, his moving hand seeming to chop through these sentences. “Does it really only take three days for us to lose all hope? We want everyone to survive!”

  We want everyone to survive…?

  Yes, I suppose that’s true. I’ve heard those words from Lily, once, and now finally I believe them. If with a snap of my fingers I could end this game, I would, and if I really wanted to keep pying Mafia, I could keep doing that online…

  But before I can share any thoughts on how we might accomplish a peaceful ending, the Horse beats me to the punch.

  “Maybe we could build a boat!”

  She smiles widely, though this grin slowly lowers under the library’s stuffy, heavy gloom. This silence that falls afterwards gives her a better answer than what anyone can bring themselves to say… We’re students, not sailors, carpenters, or engineers, and building a boat that could st days in a great wide sea would be something only a fool would dare try.

  “I have another proposal,” the Dragon speaks, after the hope had flit away from our faces. “In this room are two wolves, three town, and a single seer. Let’s do some more math, for the final time.”

  “You could have me die today, and the remaining wolf will kill someone at night. You kill that wolf tomorrow, if you’re lucky, and then the vilge wins.”

  “Then three people survive,” the Horse whispers, as he continues to talk.

  “On the other hand, the game ends when the number of wolves and vilgers are equal. They never said that the losers of the game are killed,” the Dragon says. “So, let’s say today we execute a vilger. Then, I kill a vilger during the night, and tomorrow the wolves win the game. If that happens—”

  “Four. Four people survive,” The Horse gnces up at the bookshelf’s cobwebs and her voice has the same strength as those wispy strands.

  This proposal is too suspicious! It’s true that the rules don’t say surviving townspeople will perish when they lose. But the other rules don’t mention death explicitly either, with eliminated pyers being “terminated” and the bodies still piling up. I wouldn’t be surprised if this game’s losers are summarily killed.

  “No! We’re so close to a vilge win I can taste it! We just have to kill him, and I can easily find that st wolf!” The Rat says, still the only one standing. “The seer found the Ox to be part of the vilge, so it’ll be just trivial to tell…”

  The rest of us remain at our seats, thinking about what the Dragon said at this long study table. I don’t know why the Dragon called this meeting in the first pce when he was never getting unanimous consent towards stopping a nearly-won game. Even if we agreed to randomly select our sacrifices, would the two who drew the short straws agree to just die quietly?

  “You think we’ll throw our pride away and grovel at the whimpers of some neutered wolf? Fuck no!” Rat growls. After all the Rat’s flurried gestures, the paper he had snatched earlier from the Horse drifts from his hoodie pocket and flutters to the carpet. Without even seeing it, I still recall his words.

  Meet in the library at nine am sharp.

  I have something important to discuss.

  Yours,

  Dragon

  Oh… I think I know why the Dragon sent just four letters. And why he proposed this pn, too.

  “I’ll consider this,” I say, mouth dry.

  “Will you? I thought you’d be wary, but I’d welcome your colboration,” Dragon affirms. He’s smiling, generous, and kind; every inch a pleasant gentleman.

  “I don’t like it. But like I said, I’ll think about it at the very least,” I mutter again.

  I don’t like how the Dragon’s now staring at me, either. It’s not because his eyes hold pity or hate, it’s because his benign mien holds no emotion whatsoever. Even as he talks of virtue he suppresses his very own soul.

  Another voice comes, this one like a sunbeam through the rain.

  “I won’t follow this pn,” says the Horse.

  “Ah! If she’s not following it, then I won’t either,” I recant.

  “Oh? Is there something wrong with this pn’s principles?” The Dragon shoots me a sidelong gnce as if to question which side I’m actually on. But in the end, his deep sea green eyes rest on the Horse’s brown.

  “I like the idea that we’d work together to make the most people survive,” the girl says energetically. “But the vilge still gets covered in blood…

  Maybe we could tie our votes during the trials, and the wolves choose people at night til the game ends. With this new pn, we don’t need executions; the vilge won’t need to hurt and kill anymore, and when we go home we’ll go home free..”

  The Ox also interjects, tense. “I agree with the Horse. If we have to vote and kill someone to survive, I’ll vote for that person. But if I can avoid that, I’ll be happy.; if I return to my brothers and sisters a killer, what would they think? How could I take care of them with a murder’s hands?”

  “That makes the pn more complicated, but I think we can still make it work. Snake? Rabbit? Is this pn fine wirh you?” Dragon slowly shakes his head, even as his words suggest his acceptance. It must be tough for him to “kill” people as a wolf, even if it’s to assure his own victory; but right now it’s also tough for me.

  “I suppose I’ll accept,” I’m forced to concede.

  If those two accepted this pn, it’s not like I have a choice!

  “This has all been a bad dream. I consent,” the Rabbit soon follows.

  There’s Hope in this library. The charismatic dark-haired teen has conjured it once more; and almost everyone welcomes this faithful spirit.

  But to me, it’s a frightful wraith, summoned with the blood of the two that we will choose to sacrifice. The Rat must see this too, within those dark eyes. Or perhaps he sees something even more dreadful: that rather than a Hope carrying the keys to escape it's a Reaper carrying a scythe.

  “I’m in a team chock full of stupid weak-willed wimps. But I’ll find a way to drag everyone across the finish line, even if everyone’s kicking and screaming while I do it,” Rat calls out.

  “Rejecting this pn isn’t a matter of hope; it’s about saving our pride. If we just let this game ‘happen’ to us, if we don’t take control, then how can we ever be happy with simply having ‘survived’? We can either be victors over our adversaries or victims of a tragedy, and I don’t want to remember these days as ones where we were just powerless and traumatized.”

  Rather than inspiring, the Rat’s speech is more like a cornered animal’s cws — sharp, desperate, indiscriminate. His words hang in the room, and the Horse gives him a gentle smile in return.

  “...But, this game is already something that makes me very sad, and killing the wolves won’t change that,” she quietly says.

  The Rat shoves both hands into his pocket and stares up at the ceiling. Everyone’s faces are shrouded in confusion, frustration, depression, and fear. But as for myself, I feel I’m starting to understand the Rat, the pyer-ex-celebrity named “Shinji.”

  Though of course, I still hate him.

  “There’s still some time before the trial, so think about what I’ve said here.” Dragon finishes. “Until further notice, I hereby decre this meeting adjourned.”