Vayunesh's expression shifted in a heartbeat.
The moment the chilling voice from the room's digital display announced,"Congratulations. You have won.",his face transformed—from the feigned concern of a friend to the cold, victorious grin of a calculating predator.
He leaned back in his chair slowly, almost theatrically. The dim light in the chamber glinted off his calm, narrowed eyes. Then, with deliberate arrogance, he raised both arms and spun his chair in a full circle—twice—before exhaling a relaxed sigh.
"Heh," he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, "That was... pretty easy, wasn't it?"
There was no joy in his words. Only amusement. A sinister amusement that painted the true nature of the man who had just manipulated someone into choosing death.
Then, as if adding salt to a grave wound, Vayunesh added with an almost mocking nonchalance,"Though... I think I'll still help fund his mother's operation. I mean—why not?"
He let the words hang in the air.
But behind the casual tone was the echo of a much darker truth.
Because none of it was real.
From Chapter 31 to 38, Vayunesh had worn a carefully crafted mask—a performance so convincing that even the viewers monitoring the game might have believed him for a moment.
But it was never real. It was never about friendship. It was never about saving anyone.
It was about winning.
At the start of Chapter 31, when both players were escorted into the chamber, even Vayunesh didn't fully understand the rules. The Game Agent had ominously stated:"The rules will be announced in five minutes."
That ambiguity gave birth to two competing theories in Vayunesh's mind:
It might be a cooperative game requiring teamwork.
Or it might be an elimination game, where only one walks out alive.
And so, he chose the middle path.
He immediately initiated conversation, choosing words with precision. Carefully showing empathy, humility, even uncertainty. He appeared human. Kind, even. Someone you'd lower your guard around.
All of this was part of the trap.
Once the rules were officially announced—"Speechlock", a game where survival is determined by conversation, persuasion, and submission—Vayunesh's real game began.
He quickly made his move.
Thanks to the GAC-provided player data cards, Vayunesh accessed confidential information about Jaya—particularly the one detail that would become the dagger to twist in his plan:
Jaya's mother was in critical condition and in urgent need of an expensive operation.
This wasn't just information—it was leverage.
And now that Jaya had seen Vayunesh act disappointed and "hurt" in the previous chapter, his mental state was already shaken. Add a fabricated promise of saving his mother? It was a masterstroke of psychological warfare.
Vayunesh never told a clear lie. He built every word on vague truths, possibilities, and emotional guilt—constructing a prison for Jaya's conscience, all while keeping his hands clean.
As time ticked away, the anxiety inside Jaya soared, his ability to think rationally eroded. Every moment passed was a tightening noose.
Until finally, at the climax of Chapter 38, Jaya uttered the fatal words:
"I surrender."
And that was all Vayunesh needed.
Now, the victor sat alone in his half of the room.
No remorse. No guilt. Only that same smirk lingering on his lips.
He muttered under his breath, "One down."
Then stood, brushing imaginary dust from his jacket.
This wasn't just about winning a game.
This was about proving something.
In The Game of the Masterminds, brute strength meant nothing. Kindness was a weakness.And manipulation?
Manipulation was power.
And Vayunesh had just played his pawn to perfection.