Guys I'm going to be eating popcorn and drinking drinks for this mini arc, you might want some to so my commentary will be limited.
Talio then wore what he believed was the most amiable expression he had ever managed in his life. Tilting his head slightly, with a hint of surprise, he asked:
"Huh? What do you mean I can't see the faces of other people?"
Talio's mind raced for a way out of the dilemma—only to fail, the flurry of curses storming through his head eroding his "usually" calm mind.
"Would you care to test it out?"
'Fuck, I'm cornered… well, it's all or nothing now, right?'
"Go ahead. But wouldn't you lose everyone's trust if I prove you wrong?"
Talio was certain the Blonde would hesitate, maybe even retract his words—but instead, the Blonde replied casually:
"Well then, I'll just have to prove myself right, won't I?"
Talio swore internally, then stared straight at the Blonde. After a moment, the Blonde broke the silence.
"I'll just ask you to describe what kind of face I'm making."
Talio nodded, pretending confidence, though deep down he knew this might not end well. His eyes flicked subtly around the cave, mapping possible escape routes—all blocked off by the others.
"Alright then, on the count of three. Three... two... one..."
Talio stared intently at the Blonde's face, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
"You've got your tongue out, mouth wide open."
The Blonde froze for a split second, then regained composure.
"Hmm. Okay, two more tests. I'll close one of my eyes—you guess which one."
'Fuck. Well, time to start praying to… someone?'
He'd only managed to guess before because of the Blonde's exaggerated jaw movement; this one had almost none, making it far trickier.
Talio sighed and shook his head, pretending to be bored of the antics. In reality, his mind wandered briefly—he missed the Blonde he'd gone on that double date with. His personality had flipped completely since entering the dung—
'Wait. Is he infected?'
His thoughts shattered when the Blonde finished his countdown.
Talio debated resorting to eeny, meeny, miny, moe, but then a spark of inspiration struck from one of their previous conversations.
"None of your eyes are closed, you fucking liar."
The Blonde seemed less surprised this time, but Talio noticed unease spreading through the group—though he couldn't see their faces, the shift in the air told him enough. Distrust was brewing, and he hoped it would turn against the Blonde.
"Alright," the Blonde said, "I'll ask the next question."
Talio blinked, confused, but nodded anyway.
The Blonde closed his eyes. "What color are my eyes?"
Talio rested a hand on his chin with exaggerated sarcasm, as though mocking him, but inwardly he dug deep into the back of his mind, trying to recall the double date's details.
"B... Be... Beautif—ah, I remember now."
He smacked his forehead exaggeratedly.
"How could I forget? Your eyes were blue."
The Blonde showed no reaction, simply stood there, waiting. Talio took the opportunity.
"Well, it seems you're all out of tests for me. So, may I ask why you even questioned me in the first place? Better yet, what's the connection between all this and me supposedly being infected?"
He hoped someone in this cave had at least half a functioning brain. He was trying to imply that the only way the Blonde could know an infected person experienced face blindness was if he himself were infected—or close to one.
'Still… something's off. If the Blonde really wanted to single me out, there are tougher tests he could've pulled. He could've twisted past events to frame me. I doubt he's actually infected. Maybe…'
He glanced at the Blonde, found nothing outwardly strange, and sighed.
'Well, it won't hurt to try, I guess.'
Then a voice cut through the uneasy quiet of the spectators.
"I still don't trust the black-haired guy. Look at him—those eyes are too empty to be human."
A bald, middle-aged man with a long ginger beard—shorter than Talio by a good margin—stepped forward and stared right at him.
Talio faked eye contact, something he'd long since perfected, while contemplating the most efficient way to kill the man.
"Tell me," the ginger demanded, "what's the color of my eyes?"
Talio gave him an obviously fake smile and replied:
"And why the hell should I answer your question when I just answered three to prove my innocence?"
The man's face flushed an angry red. Talio kept going, pretending not to notice his reaction—enjoying it, even.
"Next time you try to piss someone off, make sure it's someone your own size. I almost have to bend my neck ninety degrees just to look at you."
Now the man's face was purple, his fist drawing back for a punch—until the Blonde's voice sliced in.
"I have a better idea," he said evenly. "Why don't we split into two groups? Each group investigates its members, kills anyone we believe to be infected, then we regroup later."
The air turned heavy and silent. After a beat, the Blonde continued.
"Alright. Five people join me, five with Talio."
A few voices rose in protest.
"Why should we listen to you?"
"What if you're infected?"
The Blonde shrugged. "If you've got a better plan, I'm all ears."
Talio stayed silent as the gears in his head spun.
'Did he just do that on purpose? Even if I passed his tests, he's planted doubt. Maybe he wants to use the rift between me and the group to start infighting. Or… maybe it's something else. Still, I don't think he means me harm—not yet.'
Even so, he couldn't shake the unease. The contrast between the Blonde's easygoing demeanor during their date and his cold composure in this dungeon gnawed at him.
He looked around. Four others stood beside him now. The rest had chosen the Blonde. Much to his irritation, the ginger had joined his group—likely just to keep an eye on him.
Then came the sound of raised voices from the corner of the cavern. Talio recognized one of them by tone alone—the same man who'd been talking about prize money days—or was it weeks?—ago.
"Hey, go join that black-haired kid's group."
'Kid? This guy must be praying for a death wish.'
The man was talking to a woman with brown hair and lightly tanned skin. She ignored him, focused on cleaning her arrows.
"HEY, CAN YOU HEAR ME? Are you deaf?" he barked. "This bitch… she's ignoring me on purpose!"
He lunged forward, arm cocked for a punch—but before he even realized what happened, an arrow was pressed against his throat.
The woman drew it back, then calmly removed the arrow and resumed cleaning it, as if nothing had happened.