In a place like this, failure was not an option.
Their clothes were torn to shreds, but the iron brambles didn't budge. The first attempt ended in failure, and morale took a serious hit.
"Maybe you should try using your hands," the Joker offered with a smirk. "That mechanism only responds to downward force. Use your hands. I'm pretty sure that's how the game was meant to be played from the start. Haha."
"Shut up, you damned clown!" the lawyer snapped. He was afraid of the Joker, yes, but he'd defended plenty of violent criminals in court. He didn't believe the Joker was any different—just more infamous. "Why don't you keep that twisted mouth shut and sit there like a good little audience member?"
The Joker put on an innocent look, pretending he was just being helpful.
But his words made everyone hesitate. They looked at each other, unsure what to do. If the Joker was right, someone would have to sacrifice themselves. Those iron brambles were sharp. Even with gloves, you'd get cut, and all they had were clothes.
What now? Everyone stared at their hands. No one wanted to risk it. No one wanted to get hurt. So no one made a move.
"Let's try again. Don't give up so soon—come on, one more time."
"Alright, one more try."
But it was useless. No matter how many times they tried, the Joker hadn't lied. The brambles needed to be pulled down with weight, with flesh.
Another round of failure forced them to face a harder truth—someone had to go up. And no one had the guts to volunteer. That was the toughest part—deciding who would do it.
Nearly an hour had already passed. Wasting time like this just made everyone more anxious.
Harry gritted his teeth. He wanted to step up. He still had that youthful sense of justice burning inside. If no one else did it, they'd all die. "I'll go," he said, voice trembling. Just imagining the thorns piercing his hands made him sick, but this was a trial. He had to be brave.
The first volunteer stood up. Some thought he was stupid. Some thought he was brave. And some secretly felt relieved—at least someone was dumb enough to play the hero.
But they still needed one more person. The cowards in the group silently prayed someone else would step up next.
"Haha, looks like you need me," said the last person anyone expected.
The Joker stepped forward.
Harry stared, stunned. Everyone else did too. No one had expected the Joker to be the second volunteer.
"I'm just as trapped as you," the Joker said calmly, walking forward. "In a way, I'm a victim here too. We're all on the same side now… aren't we?"
Even the Joker could act sometimes.
Two people were enough. They wrapped their hands in clothes and were lifted up.
The iron hooks dug right into the fabric, and as they pulled, the clothes tore again.
"Not too many layers," the Joker said, peeling off two wraps himself. That way, the barbs would definitely pierce through and dig into the flesh.
Just the thought of it made people shudder. Harry clenched his jaw and did the same. He let out a roar to pump himself up: "Let's go! Come on!"
Up they went again.
"Ahhh!" Harry screamed in agony, but he couldn't let go. He was hooked in now. This was the critical moment.
"Not enough!" the Joker suddenly shouted. "Grab our legs and pull down, now!"
The people below hesitated for just a second—then acted. There was no choice if they wanted to survive. "Sorry, I'm pulling now."
"AHHHHH~!" Harry felt like the pain was tearing through his soul. It was unbearable. The clothes were useless. The hooks tore into his palms and sank deeper, scraping bone like worms drilling into the marrow.
The pain—indescribable. Worse than anything Harry had ever experienced. So bad it left him almost too weak to even scream.
On the other side, the Joker also screamed in pain, though his cries sounded more like laughter. The people below shuddered at the sharp, grating noise, silently relieved it wasn't them up there.
Crack!
Finally, after a brutal half minute, the ceiling lock clicked open and the key dropped to the floor.
Someone immediately rushed to grab it and unlock the door—completely ignoring Harry and the Joker. Luckily, not everyone did that.
"Alright, you can let go now!" the lawyer shouted.
Harry's mind went blank. He didn't have the courage to let go. But the lawyer couldn't keep holding him up forever. "Be brave, kid. Let go. Do it all at once."
The Joker was already back on the floor, having sloppily wrapped his hands with torn clothes. In no time, the cloth was soaked red with blood.
Harry's nerves screamed in resistance. He knew that letting go would hurt just as much—if not more. 'God, why is this happening?'
"Let go!" the lawyer urged. Most of the others had already gone into the next room, and he was getting anxious.
"Aaah!" Harry's palms were completely numb now. Honestly, if he could just stay like that, it would be better. But no, he had to endure one more burst of pain.
Let go!! Harry's heart trembled. His arms shook. His whole body shook. The pain crawled into his scalp. With everything he had, he finally let go—not out of strength, but because the pain had drained it all away.
He collapsed. But at least it was over. "It's alright, kid. You were brave," said the lawyer, wrapping Harry's mangled hands in cloth. "Now we've got to head to the next room. We will survive this goddamn game. And when it's over, I swear I'll sit in court and watch those psychos get sentenced. I'll make sure they lose the case and rot in prison for the rest of their lives. Now come on—be strong. Let's go."
Harry couldn't feel his hands at all anymore. They were completely numb. Leaning on the lawyer, he limped into the next room.
The second room was way smaller than the first. Inside were various levels and platforms. Suspended and arranged throughout were 16 glass jars.
Everyone immediately noticed the keys submerged in liquid inside each jar. Every jar had one.
But the liquid inside stung the nose—it was definitely not water.
The first group that had entered earlier already looked miserable. They'd seen the game instructions. The keys were all inside the jars, but only one was real. The others were duds.
And the liquid was some nasty acid.
"16 jars, and there are still 8 of us with both hands intact. That bastard wants every one of us to stick our hands in. Damn it, damn it, damn it!" One person was losing it. There was no escape from this one.
Someone tried to stay optimistic. "Maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe we'll find the real key in the first jar. Doesn't mean we all have to reach in."
But that raised the next problem—who would go first?
Before anyone could act, a TV in the second room lit up and started playing a video. "Well done. Although each of you has committed sins and failed to respect your own life, I'm now giving you a second chance to reclaim what you've lost—your respect for life. After passing through the first room, you should already understand the rules of the game. If you follow the rules, you can survive. You'll rediscover your life and begin to cherish it again. Now, let the second game begin."
The countdown was ticking.
Only 3 hours left.