I search out each person and argue against the Dragon’s stratagem. But I always run into the same apathy, regardless of who I talk to.

  The Ox I find in the kitchen. He’s given up on cooking—rather, he’s stuffed his well-defined jaw with potato chips: “Yuta, Souta, Aoi, Mio, Ren… I’m sorry, Snake. I need to go home.”

  On the other hand, the Rabbit rests on a couch in the lobby. She’s stretching her lush legs so far that she’s lounging on the entire seat: “Isn’t it nice to just stop thinking?”

  I can’t find the Rat. But I have the distinct impression that he opposes the Dragon’s pn already, based on his outbursts.

  I can’t persuade Dragon to go against himself, so that really just leaves Horse. I stumble upon her just a few minutes before the trial: she’s jogging in circles around the hotel, on a trail that loops around palm trees and a smattering of outlying buildings. I catch her just outside the lobby, and I’m forced to join her as she’s making ps.

  “Change our pns? But I think the Dragon’s probably a good person… and I don’t want to kill anyone else.” Horse says.

  “Huff… huff… huff!” I try to argue back.

  “What’s that?”

  The Horse’s red track jacket ripples like a cloth in a game of capture-the-fg. In a mad feat of dexterity and energy, I’m able to grasp the edge of her sleeve.

  “Just… huff… one… huff… min…” I say articutely. I wouldn’t have skipped gym css if I knew it’d come in handy in Mafia games. But as it stands, I struggle to find the words to persuade her—she’s quite literally leaving me breathless.

  “Ha… ha…”

  We halt at a bluff that drops into a surging sea, and the Horse rummages through her duffle bag before pulling out a neon bottle. “Try having a drink.”

  “Thanks,” I say. A sweet, cold, liquid spshes down my throat; I’m refreshed, and finally swallow enough air to gasp it all out: “The Dragon’s going to kill me and the Rat!”

  Horse drops her own sports drink, and it rolls down the rocks into the sea.

  “He’s pnning to kill me and the Rat! If you just stand by and allow this to happen, that’s exactly the same as murder!” I say again.

  “Did he say that he’d kill you?”

  “No, but—”

  That’s a mistake—here I should have lied. Gabbering on and on can be surprisingly effective when trying to persuade someone, but not if I talk so rapidly I forget the logic of what I’m saying.

  “He did tell me! He looked at me with a cold, calcuting expression, and said to me in that princely voice: Snake! I’m gonna kill you, Snake!”

  Psh! A wave sms against the cliff and a sea spray fizzes over us. The Horse strolls into the mist, and her eyes flick back and forth, as if worried someone was following her. I am, of course, hot on her trail, though my breathings’ so ragged that I have to huff and puff to keep up.

  This path winds upward, and she approaches a so-called “ MEMORIAL BENCH,” resting at the peak of one rocky outcrop. She kicks the gravel, and as I sit down next to her she scowls.

  “‘Snake, Snake.... That name’s’no good. I want to call you by name,” she says. Her deep frown has not a hint of hostility within it.

  “That’s already a name though?”

  “No, a name! A name!” She struggles to expin. “Your real name!”

  I get it. There’s no rule against calling someone their real name, only rules that forbid you from telling others who you are. Lily could call me “Yuri” and I could call “Lily” “Lily” because we already knew each other from school.

  But I don’t dare give any hints to the other pyers about my real name. I don’t feel like exploding right this minute, and, besides, shouldn’t she also have been able to guess my name from what Lily’s said in the trials?

  The Horse fiddles with her ponytail. “Even if you can’t tell me, Snake, I’ll come up with another one for you. That name doesn’t suit you at all.”

  It’s suddenly gotten very cloudy. The digital watch around the Horse’s wrist reads 11:00 am; we have some time to spare before the trial, but not that much. Just pick one! I don’t mind if she calls me “Setsu,” “Chiemi,” or “Sara Chiduoin”’

  She scrunches her brown eyebrows. Wait a minute, wait one more minute: could it be that the Horse is actually some kind of genius? She always sounds like a ditz, but maybe she’s actually a savant who can guess someone’s name based purely on appearances.

  That’s certainly possible. A professor at University of California once ran an experiment with his students. He gave them two shapes, a circle and a triangle, and two names, “Boba” and “Kiki.” His subjects were far more likely to pair certain names with particur shapes, just based on their form.

  In this case, the students thought that the blobur circle shape should be “Boba,” and the pointy triangle should be assigned the sharp sounds of “Kiki.” Personally, I think I’m very much a “Yuri” shaped person.

  “The name”‘Snake” doesn’t suit you at all; you’re very loyal to people you care about, I think. How about a name like Iris instead?”

  Why can’t I ever get a name I actually like!?!

  “I think Iris sounds super cool! It’s, like, a super powerful name, that I learned in history css! The Goddess of Rainbows and fresh starts…”

  After all that, she was just being silly; then she leans towards me, arms bashfully pushed into her p in one long ‘V’. Her shirt’s rumpled, her chest sticks out, and it no longer matters whether her eyes hold any wisdom—just that they’re so close.

  “The Dragon said he’d kill you. Ri. Is that what really happened?”

  “Ri?”

  “Iris, Ri for short,” Horse says expectantly, still looking deeply into me. I’m forced to take a long breath before I reply.

  “If you follow his pn, I’ll swear that I’ll die,” I murmur.

  “Then I believe you. I believe you, but—” Horse frowns, then shakes her head furiously, pony-tail flinging every which way. “I don’t think I can murder anyone.”

  “Anna, in this game we’re forced to make tough choices.”

  “Anna?”

  I don’t hold any affection towards Horse and her strange pet names. Rather, this nickname I’ve given her comes from a persuasive technique called “mirroring,” used in sales, speeddates, and of course, social deduction. If someone moves their body a certain way, talks a certain way, does a certain thing, you imitate it and it helps build a rapport between you.

  “Anna, Anna, Anna,” She fps and rolls her tongue. “Anna! Ri, I love the name that you gave me. I think it fits me quite well.”

  It’s not from affection! It’s not from any affection at all! I’m focused on persuasion only, no matter how cute and puppy-like her enthusiasm makes her seem.

  “You could step away from your panel, and I’d vote in your pce. How about that?” I say, looking away.The Horse just shrugs.

  “Are you sure the Dragon’s not picking randomly?” “Yes!”

  “Are you absolutely sure he’s going to kill you?” “Absolutely yes!”

  She looks away from me too, at the rough grass growing on the sand. We had jogged all the isnd’s farthest reaches, near an abandoned pier by a craggy beach. While the weather’s warm, the summer wind still blisters our faces.

  “Even if I wanted to vote for the Dragon, we’d still need four people to “murder” him. I don’t think the Rabbit and Ox would be willing to do that…” the Horse trails off.

  This rebuff isn’t as bad as it seems; if she’s asking questions about how this pn might take pce, she’s open to switching sides. But I had already tried and failed to persuade everyone else, and unless the Rat is pursuing some pn I’m unaware of, the chance we have a voting majority is about zero percent.

  I gnce at our surroundings. There’s a dune tall enough that someone short like the Rabbit or Rat could hide behind it; I climb the sand and ensure that the coast is clear.

  “Anna, listen closely. If you change your mind, there’s a way to eliminate the Dragon with just three votes. You have to keep it a secret, but here’s what we’d have to do…”