Ten years after my college classmate died, I was dragged into a group chat. The group announcement read: Thirty days from now, welcome back to our alma mater for the class reunion. 1. Please attend with a black rose. 2. Anyone who tries to leave this city will die. 3. Anyone who doesn’t come will die. 4. Anyone who loses their rose will die. Thirty days later would be Rosalie’s tenth death anniversary. **1** I picked up my phone, staring at the cryptic group chat. I figured it was some old classmate’s prank and tried to type a question, only to find that all members were muted. I tapped on the black rose profile picture. “Cannot add user as friend.” I tried to leave the group. “Cannot exit.” What… what kind of tech was this? *Ding-dong.* The doorbell rang. I walked out of my study, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the gate of my mansion. Someone was here, this late? I checked the security feed. At the tall iron gate, a single black rose lay on the ground. “Please attend with a black rose.” The group announcement flashed in my mind. *Beep beep~* A private message popped up. I checked it. It was Marcus Green, that old buddy—he was the only one who still kept in touch with me. He was in the group, too. “Alex, what’s going on with that group?” “Did you get that flower too?” “Is it… is she back for revenge?” He sent a string of frantic voice messages, clearly terrified. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Don’t overthink it. It’s probably just a prank.” I didn’t take it too seriously, casually arranging my collectible tea set. “Just chill. Let’s see how it plays out.” After a moment’s thought, I called my housekeeper to bring the rose inside. My busy life continued. My company had several big deals to close, so I didn’t have time to focus excessively on this. The group remained silent. None of the busy “elites” seemed to take it seriously either. **2** Ten days later, Marcus suddenly called me, his voice trembling with terror. “Alex, this is bad! Really bad! Liam White is dead!” I frowned, trying to pull up his name from my mental Rolodex of contacts. “Liam White? How did he die?” “He was on a business trip to another city. On his way to the airport, he was hit head-on by a huge truck and died instantly. They say… his head was severed on impact, flying dozens of feet.” This was the first one. Someone who died for trying to leave the city. “Anyone who tries to leave this city will die.” Maybe it was a coincidence. I tried to reassure Marcus, and myself. I opened the group chat. One person was missing—the count went from 21 to 20. Liam White was gone. **3** The next week showed me this wasn’t just a coincidence. Two more people died in the group. A female classmate, Sarah Miller, whose father was critically ill back home and wanted to see her one last time. She definitely had to go back. But as she was heading to the elevator with her suitcase, the elevator malfunctioned and plunged 28 floors. She died instantly. Another male classmate, Kevin Baker, whose mischievous daughter played with the black rose and then presumably lost it. He was electrocuted in the shower at home. The group count dropped from 21 to 18. My irritation flared. I drove back to my mansion, placed the black rose in a safe, and told my secretary to cancel all my business trips. **4** Marcus came over to my place. He was terrified. He wanted to stay with me for the next two weeks, and I didn’t refuse. “Alex! Wow! I knew you were doing well, but I had no idea you were *this* successful!” He parked his car on my private driveway and gaped in amazement. I humbly replied, “Oh, it’s nothing. Everyone’s doing great.” It was true. Everyone pulled into that group chat was now a successful professional in their respective fields. That evening, we drank red wine and talked about old times. “Alex, maybe we should call the police?” Marcus’s dark eyes stared at me intently. I pondered for a moment, then shook my head. “No. If we call the police, they’ll reopen the investigation into what happened ten years ago.” Marcus took a sip of wine and chuckled. “Right. It would be a hassle, especially since Rosalie’s death is linked to all of us…” “Shut up!” I snapped, completely unlike my usual nice-guy persona, cutting him off. Rosalie. She was our classmate who died ten years ago. She was a girl as bright and beautiful as a rose. **5** For the next few days, no one else disappeared from the group, meaning no one else died. Every time I came back to the mansion after work, I saw Marcus on the phone, seemingly contacting the others in the group. Well, he was always a social butterfly back in college. The next day, I saw a petite figure in my mansion—my ex-girlfriend, Valerie Reed. She was in the group too. But we hadn’t had any contact since graduating college. “Alex, Marcus called me. I saw the group, and people dying, I was so scared… Don’t get the wrong idea.” She looked at me with that pitiable expression, a look both familiar and strange. My mansion had plenty of rooms, and having one more person for a few days was no big deal. I shrugged indifferently. Soon, it was time for the reunion at our alma mater. But before we left, my safe was gone—the safe containing the black rose. **6** We had to leave soon, there was no time to check the security footage. I looked at Marcus’s fawning face and Valerie’s gentle smile, a chill running through me. Someone was setting me up. They wanted me dead. **截断点** “Alex, what’s wrong?” Seeing my grim face, Marcus asked with concern. I glared at them both. “My rose is gone. The one in the safe.” “What? Oh no, what are we going to do?” Valerie also sounded agitated. I gritted my teeth. “Let’s just go.” Going would mean death, but so would not going. Might as well go and find out what was going on. The three of us walked towards the parking area. Suddenly, a massive shadow plunged down… “Ah!” Marcus, who was walking behind us, let out a short, sharp cry of pain, then fell silent. The scent of blood filled the air. I turned my head. A thick lamppost had fallen, landing squarely on Marcus. His head was crushed. He died instantly… The mansion’s security quickly ran over, calling the police. I staggered back two steps. It should have been me who died. “Alex, you should thank me. Last night, Marcus stole your safe. Luckily, I found out in advance and swapped his rose into your safe. So, what he threw into the furnace to burn was his own flower.” Valerie smiled, as if seeking praise, her eyes curving sweetly. She casually pulled two flowers from her large bag and handed one to me. **7** There were 17 people left in the group, including the group admin. Valerie and I returned to our alma mater. It was summer break, so the school was empty. Strangely, the main gate was open, and there were no security guards. Having witnessed Marcus’s death, my mood was heavy. “Those four people who died, they all did something terrible to Rosalie, didn’t they? Alex, who do you think is next?” Valerie asked softly, sending a shiver down my arm. This was a revenge plot. Today was Rosalie’s death anniversary. When we arrived at the classroom, it was already full of people. Marcus’s death had delayed us a bit. Dozens of eyes stared at us from the doorway, filled with fear, exhaustion, surprise, or indifference. *Beep beep beep…* Countless phones suddenly chimed. The black rose profile picture appeared. A group message. “Welcome, 16 classmates, to this year’s class reunion, on time.” “Next, let’s play a game of Truth or Dare.” “Each student must confess a wicked deed they committed against Rosalie during college, and others will vote by raising their hands. The person with the least severe offense will die.” 1. Do not lie. 2. Do not attempt to leave. 3. Do not disrupt the game. This was terrifying! We had to tell the truth, confess our gravest sins, and then be judged by others! The person at the bottom, the one whose mistake was deemed the least severe, would pay with their life! Who among us wasn’t someone important, someone with a reputation?! Now, everyone would be forced to confess their absolute worst sins… This was a test of human nature. Who exactly was behind this black rose profile picture? **8** “I’m not playing! I’m not playing! I’m going home!” A skinny guy, Mitch Evans, suddenly stood up and ran wildly out of the classroom. As soon as he ran out the door, a tortured shriek echoed. His throat seemed to be clutched by something unseen. We rushed to the doorway to look. He was writhing, kneeling in the hallway, his hands desperately clutching his own throat, eyes bulging. He actually strangled himself to death! “Ah!” The more timid female classmates screamed. Valerie clung to my arm, trembling all over. Now, no one dared to leave. There were 16 people left in the group. **9** “Are we just going to leave Mitch there?” Back in the classroom, a man with thick brows, Julian North, questioned us unhappily.
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