The Crimson Game Chapter 9

"First, let me announce the third round rules: You cannot lift the bride's red veil during the game."

"Game Theme: Horror Bridal Preparation"

"Game Content: Find items according to the information on your card, then dress the bride in her professional attire"

"Game Duration: 2 days"

"Game Note: 1. Unexpected styling choices may earn the bride's special gratitude. 2. You may obtain items through theft or force."

"Now, players, rest well."

After the host left, Tank and I looked at each other.

I leaned back in my chair, speechless. "Is this seriously a dress-up game?"

Tank shook his head at me. "How are two guys supposed to handle this?"

I shook my head, thinking maybe we should find a girl to team up with.

Just then, a girl five seats away from us caught my attention.

I nudged Tank with my elbow.

"What about her?"

Tank followed my gaze while taking a huge bite of his chicken leg.

"Jake, come on. Look at her. She probably has more testosterone than you. If we get into a fight, I can't take her."

I glanced sideways at Tank, who was wolfing down his food.

I joked, "That's pretty harsh."

I rubbed my chin, studying the girl.

Hmm... maybe that's a stretch.

The girl had one foot propped up on an empty seat beside her, cramming cream puffs into her mouth with both hands. It was honestly intimidating to watch.

I shook my head, abandoning that idea.

Suddenly, a timid voice spoke up.

"Um, excuse me, can I team up with you?"

Tank and I turned to look.

It was the young girl sitting next to Tank.

Her frame was so thin that Tank's barrel-like body had completely hidden her from view.

Tank wiped the grease from his mouth and looked her up and down.

"Can you handle this, little girl? You're skin and bones."

I frowned and tugged at Tank. Turning to the girl, I said:

"Don't listen to him. Do you feel confident about the third round?"

The girl tried not to look at Tank, who was staring at her. She clasped her hands and said quietly, "I heard what you were saying earlier. I play dress-up games all the time."

Tank slapped his thigh and exclaimed:

"Oh, that's perfect! Little lady, I was out of line just now. Tank apologizes!"

I put my hand to my forehead, thinking Tank really could bend with the wind.

But this young girl reminded me of the girl-next-door types from TV shows—familiar and comforting, like I'd seen her somewhere before.

And so, the three of us formed an alliance.

That evening, the players still rested in the giant hall.

The young girl called us to a corner.