Revenge After Death



I looked at Zion, and he looked back at me. It was clear that the Rebels were not as unified as they seemed. Some members advocated killing while others preferred exposure. Ewan was the one who stood for exposure.

"My dad is not actually a bad person," Joel said in a low voice, speaking up for Ewan.

Jimmy sneered. "Not a bad person? Not a bad person when he's the one who locked us all up here?"

"You're still alive, aren't you?" Eason frowned and said, standing up for Joel.

"Stop making noise," Una urged with a serious expression. She gestured for everyone to remain silent.

After a brief moment of silence, a hand emerged, followed by a gradual appearance of a head. To our astonishment, it was the killer, Stan. He had managed to infiltrate the warehouse through a narrow crack in the door.

Our hands and feet were tied as we all eyed Stan warily. He was a killer, and we had bound him before. We were afraid that he would retaliate. Rachel was even more frightened and sought refuge behind Zion.

However, Stan appeared indifferent toward us. Instead, he cast a peculiar smile as he surveyed the warehouse.

He pointed to the door and smiled. "The serial killer is outside. He planned everything, including the killings. He gathered all the people he thought should be killed. The wealthy, in particular."

Stan approached me with a smirk on his face as if to show off his secret of being a serial killer. "He's not acting alone. He didn't commit all this on his own. He's just a piece of shit but still dares to provoke me, haha."Nôvel/Dr(a)ma.Org - Content owner.

With a wary look, Michael positioned himself in front of me to shield me from Stan. Yet, Stan ignored him and pushed him aside. He showed off and reported to me with an intense gaze as if he truly regarded me as his equal.

Stan seemed very happy because he killed people on his own, unlike the serial killer who had assistance. He smiled and lifted his pants, revealing his congenitally deformed legs and body. "Do you know what it signifies when a murderous person doesn't commit the act of killing themselves but instead schemes to have others carry out the killings for them? It signifies disability or weakness."

Stan was analyzing the identity of the serial killer. "I won. I defeated him in essence. He must be someone like me, either disabled or weak."

I frowned as I looked at Stan. What he said was right. The serial killer planned everything, allowing the victims to kill each other. He never really did it himself, except for Stephanie.

When I remembered the moment Stephanie died, I gasped. I was in a daze and noticed his birthmark, the scratches I inadvertently made on his arm, and his weak and thin body.

Even in killing me, he resorted to semi-anesthesia. This implied that the murderer might not have the strength to kill me while I was fully conscious. He was indeed a feeble presence.

Was it the masked man? He was dressed in a way that concealed all of his skin, yet it was unmistakably apparent that he was more slender and shorter than the other men. Who could he possibly be?

"If I kill him, I'll go down in history, and I'll be the real winner," Stan declared with a confident smile, ready to kill the masked man and unveil his true identity.

I took a deep breath before speaking with caution, "You'll definitely put yourself in grave danger by going

out like this. Do you really want to kill him? He has a lot of people around him who will help him, and you need our support as well. It's only fair."

I attempted to deceive Stan, who unquestionably found my words to be logical.

"Untie our ropes and we'll help you..." I raised my hands, which were tied behind my back, signaling him to free us. As anticipated, Stan enthusiastically aided us in untying the ropes, thinking that we were going to help him kill the man.

"Ashton will trick him in later. Then, we'll work together to subdue him and uncover the identity of this well-disguised person." I looked at Zion. The few of us understood each other without speaking a word.