Those hands, usually used for painting, were now forcefully cutting through the rope, one stroke at a time. William Carter's eyes were fixed intently on the gradually fraying rope as he explained softly, “Although this is my first time on a show, I’ve often played escape rooms with friends before, so I do have some experience.”

“When you come to a place like this, you can’t get too immersed. You have to constantly think from the perspective of the planners.”

He cut through one rope and pulled out the severed piece with his hand. “They locked me in here because they want me to escape, not because they really want to keep me trapped for the entire episode. If I were the only one in this room, with my hands and feet bound and even my eyes covered, the chances of escaping on my own would be almost zero. In that case, there are only two possibilities: first, wait for someone else to escape their room and come to mine, to either save me or kill me. Second, there’s someone else in this room, and we need to help each other. From the perspective of making the show more watchable…”

At this point, William Carter lifted his head slightly, his gaze meeting James Turner's eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at him in silence for three seconds.

Then, suddenly, the corners of his mouth curled up.

In that instant, James Turner had a strange illusion, as if he could hear the words left unsaid.

Even though they had only just met a few days ago, and there was no such thing as tacit understanding between them, from that look alone, he completely understood the unspoken meaning behind William Carter’s words.

[From the perspective of making the show more watchable, only if you and I are together will there be the most buzz.]

“I thought I’d try the second possibility, and didn’t expect to get so lucky and hit the mark on the first try.”

Lying again.

At some point, William Carter had already untied James Turner’s hands.

“All done.”

“Thank you.” James Turner was still a bit dazed. He considered himself a smart person, but the extremely poor first impression had made him lose his ability to judge the person in front of him. If he wanted to win this game, he had to let go of his prejudice.

When he came back to his senses, James Turner realized that William Carter had actually bent down, using his cuffed hands to untie the rope around his ankles.

His own hands were now free, so he could easily untie the knot himself. He didn’t need to use the violent method of the broken porcelain shard, nor did he need anyone else’s help.

“I can do it myself…”

Before he could finish, he saw William Carter, still bent over, look up at him. There was a hint of confusion in his eyes, and his slightly reddened lips were holding the shard of porcelain that had just been used to cut the rope. The oversized collar of his white shirt revealed his prominent collarbone.

Eyes freed from the black cloth, slightly long hair tied back, the angle of his bent posture, his position close to James Turner’s knees.

Handcuffs, the mole on his nose, the sharp shard, beautiful yet cold lips, teeth lightly biting the porcelain.

The strange atmosphere pieced these fragmented elements together into an unfamiliar picture—so unfamiliar, and accidentally tinged with a hint of ambiguity.

James Turner didn’t understand why he suddenly felt embarrassed. It was a feeling he had never experienced before. He hurriedly bent down and reached out to untie his own legs.

People always instinctively fear the unknown.

William Carter didn’t mind. He simply took the shard from his mouth with his fingers and handed it to James Turner. “Looks like there are a few dead knots. Want to try using this?” But the other just shook his head and, with some difficulty, untied one of the knots.

Seeing that his help was refused, William Carter could only straighten up and deftly toss the shard into a corner of the room, as if throwing a dart.

With both his hands and feet freed, James Turner regained the most basic freedom—at least he was off that damned swivel chair. The scene just now had made him feel uncomfortable all over, so uncomfortable that he could only attribute it to the aftereffects of being restrained. He rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles, trying to relax. Meanwhile, William Carter’s hands were still cuffed, so he couldn’t free his own legs.

Unfortunately, he had only bargained for the removal of the black cloth. Now, James Turner had done more than enough and could completely leave him here as a sacrifice for the game—especially since he disliked him so much.

William Carter was thinking about his next move. This was a show recording, and logically, abandoning a teammate outright would attract a lot of hate. Most celebrities wouldn’t choose to do that. But this show had a special psychological warfare element, and the hidden killer role naturally bred suspicion between people, so they couldn’t really be called teammates.

So even if James Turner left him here now, it would make perfect sense.

In fact, James Turner was also thinking. To be honest, his sense of morality made it hard for him to just abandon someone, even if this was only a simulated survival game. But he really didn’t like William Carter. He was trouble—a ticking time bomb. If he saved him now, there was no telling when he might be betrayed.

Smiling like an angel as he pushed him into the abyss—that was William Carter.

For a brief moment, both of them were struggling and weighing their options.