Lin Yu understood that easing tension was instinctive for some.

But—

This wasn’t just Werewolf. This was Werewolf with corpses.

Did such a game need a mood-lightener?

Moreover, the rat-faced youth had stayed silent earlier, his shifty eyes scanning the room. Now, his first words were a slick, jokey remark.

Instincts ringing alarms.

Still, intuition wasn’t proof. The guy might just be an idiot.

Either way, Lin Yu refused to let the faux-camaraderie linger.

He cleared his throat. "Like it or not, we’re stuck playing. Let’s discuss strategy."

The timid woman spoke softly: "The letter mentioned red crates... If only werewolves can open them, wouldn’t that expose them?"

The scarred man scoffed. "You think they’re dumb enough to do it in front of us?"

"Then we could... watch secretly?" she offered weakly.

"Quit your muttering, bitch," the man snapped.

Lin Yu swiftly redirected: "Point is, we won’t unmask them in one discussion. It’s a process—we’ll analyze actions over time."

The middle-aged woman paled. "But that means... people will die first."

Lin Yu let the implication hang before delivering his rehearsed line:

"That’s why it’s called a death game. We’ve got nothing left to bet... except borrowed lives."

The room plunged into silence again.

Perfect.

Beneath his grave expression, Lin Yu’s mind was ice.

His speech had been calculated—performative. He’d even used his actor’s cadence to amplify its weight.

Chaos and paranoia were tools. And now, under this manufactured tension, someone would inevitably grasp their other leverage—

The chubby boy’s eyes lit up. "Wait! There’s one more thing—"

"Wait—it's not all doom and gloom! We still have our roles!"

The chubby boy's voice cracked with excitement. "Before coming here, I was assigned a role. That auntie earlier mentioned seeing something about 'roles' in the blood text too. So you all must have gotten yours! These have to help us!"

The square-jawed man—Yu Longguo—nodded. "Then let's share our roles and abilities first. With that, we can strategize better."

Lin Yu exhaled internally.

Perfect.

This was exactly what he'd orchestrated.

From the moment he'd received the Trickster role, he'd planned to disguise himself as another class. But to do that convincingly, he needed intel—everyone else's roles.

One by one, they began revealing their hands:

Yu Longguo (Square-jawed man):
🔹 Role: Soldier
🔹 Ability: 5x physical enhancement.

His voice carried authority. A straightforward, combat-ready class.

Bao Liu (Scarred man):
🔹 Role: Hooligan
🔹 Ability: Break one game rule once.

"Don't test me," he sneered, flexing his scarred knuckles. "I play dirty."

Lin Yu observed them carefully.

There seemed to be a strong correlation between their assigned roles and their real-life identities.

Yu Longguo—the square-jawed man—had the bearing of a soldier even before he revealed his role. His upright posture, disciplined demeanor, and the way he carried himself all screamed military. And sure enough, his in-game role was Soldier.

As for Bao Liu, the scar-faced man, his entire aura reeked of thuggishness from the start. The way he slouched, his aggressive tone, even the way he cracked his knuckles—it all fit perfectly with his self-proclaimed role: Hooligan.

Now, it was the bespectacled middle-aged woman’s turn.

"My name is Xu Xiumei," she said, adjusting her glasses. "My role is Teacher. My ability allows me to gather some game-related information."

The others nodded. A Teacher's ability might not be flashy, but it was undeniably useful.

While everyone else pondered the practical applications of each role, Lin Yu’s mind raced ahead.

Just as I thought...

Xu Xiumei wasn’t as overtly "typed" as Yu Longguo or Bao Liu, but upon closer inspection, the signs were there:

• Her modest, no-nonsense clothing.

• The way she habitually cleared her throat before speaking—a classic teacher’s reflex after years of lecturing.

• The thickened calluses on her thumb and index finger, likely from years of gripping chalk or pens.

She really was a teacher.

Which meant one thing:

In this death game, roles weren’t random.

They were reflections of the players themselves.