“Liar.”Qi Xia repeated the word in his mind, confirming his fate. He flipped his card face-down, the word Liar burning into his consciousness.Just a minute ago, he’d imagined a world where everyone survived. Now, it was different.Strangers though they were, someone here would die by his hand—or rather, by his silence.“Any objections?” The Man-Goat’s voice cut through the tension. “Remember: one liar only.” His cw-like finger pointed to the girl beside Qi Xia. “Begin with you. Clockwise.”“Me?” The girl blinked, her pout amplifying her vulnerability.Qi Xia gnced at her. If he were st to speak, his story would be etched into their minds—or forgotten.The girl’s painted lips parted. “My name’s Tian Tian,” she began, adjusting her low-cut shirt. “I’m a… technical worker. Not ashamed of it.”The room stayed silent.“My story isn’t easy to tell,” she continued, twirling a strand of hair. “Let’s just say I was working when this happened. A client insisted we meet in his car—said it’d be exciting. I thought, why not? New experience.”Her voice wavered as she described the cramped car, the sweat, the client’s buzzing phone.“Then the ground shook,” she said, her voice cracking. “I thought it was… us. But no—it was an earthquake. A billboard above the alley colpsed. I bcked out. When I woke, I was here.”A collective shudder rippled through the group.“Earthquake,” the tattooed man muttered. “She’s lying.”“What?!” Tian Tian’s eyes widened.“You’re Tian Tian now?” The tattooed man’s voice hardened. “Prostitutes use aliases. ‘Tian Tian,’ ‘Xiao Fang’—all fake. You’re hiding your real name.”Tian Tian’s face flushed. “My real name is Zhang Lijuan. I’m from Shaanxi. You can call it—you’ll get no answer!”Qi Xia studied her. Her story flowed naturally, too casual to be rehearsed. Yet the tattooed man had a point: names were easy lies.The Man-Goat’s rules hadn’t specified what must be true—only that one lied.Tian Tian’s desperation rang genuine. If she were the liar, she’d have prepared better.Which meant…Qi Xia’s gaze dropped to his card.The liar is me.The tattooed man’s logic offered a path. Names were trivial, hard to disprove.He’d chosen his alias: Li Ming—a common surname, forgettable.His story would blend into the crowd.The game was almost over.