★Survey for Player Quest★
Do you agree to initiate a player-led judgment quest to identify the murderer? (If more than half vote ‘No,’ it may be canceled.)
As soon as Jung Da-hoon read the first question, his pupils quaked. I whispered softly to him.
“Just vote yes. Most people will probably agree anyway. And if not, they might compile a list of those who voted no and come after them.”
Jung Da-hoon, having steeled himself, pressed ‘Agree.’
1) I know someone who I suspect is the murderer.
He chose ‘Not sure’ for this one.
2) Do you believe there is an accomplice to the murder?
What the hell is this question?
Jung Da-hoon immediately wrote down ‘No,’ and I leaned in again to add a comment.
“Question mark. Just say you’re not sure.”
‘No? Not sure.’
I corrected Jung Da-hoon’s answer sheet and added,
“If a question rubs you the wrong way, just go with ‘Not sure.’”
“Okay.”
3-1) If there is an accomplice, do you believe they should be punished equally?
The question gave off a slightly shady vibe. Still, I marked ‘Yes’ for now.
3-2) How many accomplices or suspects do you think there are?
4) Have you witnessed a murder scene or heard anything about the murderer?
Thank you for participating in the survey.
I filled in ‘Not sure’ and ‘No’ for the remaining questions and submitted the form. Then, we waited for the aggregated results. I placed my hand gently over Jung Da-hoon’s as he sat stiff like a statue, staring straight ahead.
“It’s okay.”
And moments later, the survey results were announced.
“Yes, after compiling your responses, the overwhelming consensus is that there are at least three suspects or accomplices. Therefore, we will bring three individuals to the judgment platform. The statistical data will be made public transparently.”
That unease and creeping dread—I finally realized the source. There’s clearly only one person with the Murderer Class, so why did they ask about accomplices too?
‘Maybe they just want to hang whoever they damn well please.’
They’re trying to squeeze every drop out of the player judgment system. Even if one of the three spots goes to the actual murderer, the other two? That’s just room for them to throw in whoever suits their fancy.
……
The player-led survival quest <Impartial Judgment> has begun!
Judge and punish the murderer and two accomplices. Cast your precious vote wisely.
This was a one-time self-governed judgment quest, only available once during the game period.
There was no actual method for proving someone was the murderer. Just a flood of user votes—if it sticks, it sticks.
In fact, several players raised objections to this system. But all they got in response was: “What, are you the murderer?”
I slipped out of the chapel and ran to a quiet corner, attempting to undo my transformation.
[System]: Temporary deactivation is not possible. You may return to fox form after the first vote.
‘No dice.’
Honestly, this was a golden opportunity for latecomer players. With the vote going their way, they could use the system’s absolute power to take out a top contender for victory.
The judgment process consists of two public opinion votes followed by one final vote.
[Time remaining until the first opinion poll: 04:24:32]
I chewed nervously on my lip. This was turning into a real problem for me.
Ever since Kessler went and revealed his identity to the entire world, rumors had spread like wildfire—stuff like “he’s favored by the Lord,” and “he got rich looting the top-ranked bag from the guy who died at the Shadow Banquet.”
“This is so annoying.”
I had gone out of my way to keep things discreet, but the loose-lipped skeletons had spilled everything. I’d underestimated the camaraderie between players and the undead.
The problem was…
‘Both rumors were true, and I had no way to deny them.’
On top of that, I had no bonds with the other players. I’d spent most of my time as a Baby Arctic Fox, after all.
“I voted. Since someone said Mr. Jung was the murderer earlier, I put down Jung Carbonara.”
“……He’s been dead for a while now, you know?”
“Really?”
“Lol, I also voted for Jung Carbonara.”
“How many times are we gonna kill the same dead guy?”
Laughing and spinning in circles, the players stopped and exchanged glances when they noticed me.
The way they subtly edged away with sideways glances—it made my skin crawl.
‘…This feels like a bad omen.’
Five hours passed in the blink of an eye. Soon after, an announcement declared the first round of murder and accomplice nominees would be revealed, and the players were summoned.
“The top vote-getter is KebabGudasai. In second place, Jung Da-hoon. Third is Jung Carbonara… but since that user does not exist, the fourth-ranked nominee will take the third slot.”
“Drumroll please!!”
“It’s Yeo Woo-rim.”
The moment his name was called, Jung Da-hoon let out a silent scream like a Munch painting.
Amid the murmurs, the expedition leader began listing the reasons behind each nomination in vivid detail.
“The most common reason given for voting KebabGudasai was, ‘He smells like a rotting corpse when you get close.’ Other responses included: ‘Doesn’t wash,’ ‘Please shower,’ and ‘Wipe your snot stains.’”
“I can’t believe they’re just saying it like that…”
“That’s brutal…”
The expedition leader relayed the responses without any sugar-coating, prompting a stir among the players.
Yet, contrary to their reactions, KebabGudasai himself looked unbothered. He soon took the mic.
“I apologize for causing discomfort. I will strive to be a cleaner KebabGudasai moving forward. I’ll make sure to wipe the snot stains too. I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you. Next is Jung Da-hoon.”
Amid a wave of sympathy from the crowd, Jung Da-hoon stepped up onto the platform.
“Yes.”
“The reasons for voting for Jung Da-hoon included: ‘Because he’s a Jung,’ ‘Claimed to be an Alpha Tester but shares no info,’ ‘Won’t reveal his class,’ and ‘He gives off cryptic vibes.’ Please make your statement.”
“If you spare me, I promise, here and now, to actively share information moving forward. Also, I’m currently on a Special Occupation Quest as a ‘Shadow Ceramicist.’ Many of you probably know I have some skill in making skeletal figurines.”
I remembered lying on a bench with him once, chatting about the Alpha Test days. I had mentioned failing the Shadow Ceramicist trial because of a dust storm—and now he was using that story to defend himself.
Jung Da-hoon stepped down to applause.
“Next, Yeo Woo-rim.”
I walked up to the stage. The crowd looked up at me.
“The reasons given for voting Yeo Woo-rim were: ‘A user you rarely see,’ ‘Curious how he got close to the Lord,’ ‘I’m a fan of Yeo Woo-rim, so I voted for him,’ and ‘He’s handsome.’ Would you like to make your case?”
“Uh… sure, I guess.”
The surest way to prove I wasn’t the murderer was to reveal my class. I could literally reach into the Expedition Leader’s bag and swipe something to prove my role.
But that was insane. A thief is a social pariah, after all.
I grabbed the mic.
“First of all, to the person who voted for me because I’m handsome—thank you.”
I started off lightly, then continued.
“I work at a matchmaking agency. I assist the Lord with his romantic pursuits. Once his business is settled, I’d like to help with yours. Please don’t kill me.”
I thought it was a pretty decent defense, but the users’ reaction was lukewarm at best.
“Thank you. You three have done well. We’ll hold the second vote in three days. Please vote thoughtfully.”
The players in the chapel began to disperse. Some passed by offering quiet encouragement.
“Da-hoon…”
“Are you okay? That must’ve been terrifying… I’m so sorry…”
Jung Da-hoon pulled Bori Noona into an embrace. He wanted to show only his best side to the woman he cared about.
“Don’t worry, Da-hoon. I’ll make sure to save you no matter what.”
“I won’t die that easily. Please don’t worry. I’ve got to go handle a few skeleton commissions…”
“Alright. See you later.”
“Yeah, see you soon.”
With a warm coffee in one hand and the other in his pocket, Jung Da-hoon gave Bori Noona a little wave. A casual, comforting scene.
But once he turned away, he clenched his fist and pressed it hard against his lips.
“It’s okay, Da-hoon.”
“Pro… what do we do now?”
“There’s still time before the final vote. For now, let’s proceed with the plan. Did you handle what I asked?”
“Yes. I made the real_babyfox YouTube and Instagram accounts. I’ve also been practicing taking photos here and there.”
“Good work.”
I’d heard recently that the account owner who used to post candid photos of the fox had written a long farewell post.
‘Hello, this is FoxPpoppi. Since I failed a mission in-game, it seems I won’t be able to post any more Fox Reels. I’ll be cheering for the fox from afar. Thank you for all your love up to now.’
As soon as I heard that, I told Jung Da-hoon to create a new account.
Followers meant potential earnings too. I wanted to repay Da-hoon for all his help.
“You said the most-liked post was the one of me eating, right? Oh, and try uploading a separate food video too. Add some background music.”
“Understood.”
“Alright then—time to transform.”
Suppressing the uneasy feeling in my chest, I returned to my fox form.
Jung Da-hoon carefully dressed me in the fox costume again.
No… that’s not how it goes. After getting used to Kessler’s skilled hands, being handled by fox-clueless Jung Da-hoon again was agonizingly frustrating.
