Chapter 4: Judgment of Sin
2818words
Six survivors gathered in the grand hall, each face etched with deep fatigue and despair. Two consecutive nights of death had pushed their minds to the brink of collapse, fear coiling around their hearts like venomous snakes, making each breath difficult. The luxurious decorations in the hall appeared especially eerie in the dim light before the storm; those art pieces that once symbolized wealth and power now looked like ornaments of death.
Richard sat on the main sofa, his posture completely devoid of his usual authority and confidence. His suit was wrinkled, hair disheveled, and eyes sunken deep into their sockets like two black holes. His hands trembled incessantly as he tried to light a cigarette, but the lighter made hollow clicking sounds in his hand, never producing a flame. This mechanical repetition revealed the extreme anxiety within him.
"Damn lighter..." he cursed under his breath, his voice as raspy as sandpaper rubbing together, "Even this little thing can't work properly... just like this goddamn place..."
Victoria sat in the farthest corner from him, hugging herself tightly with both arms, her body swaying slightly in a continuous motion—an instinctive attempt at self-comfort. As a doctor, she understood better than anyone the effects of fear and stress on the human body, but knowledge did nothing to ease her inner torment. Her eyes were hollow and lost, occasionally twitching suddenly as if seeing some terrifying vision.
"We need to stay calm..." she whispered to herself, her voice so faint it was barely audible, "Calm... rational... scientific method..." But these words sounded more like desperate self-hypnosis than genuine advice.
James paced back and forth in the room, each step appearing anxious and aimless. His leather shoes made rhythmic tapping sounds on the marble floor, particularly jarring in the quiet lobby. He would occasionally stop to check his watch, as if time could offer him some comfort, but each movement of the hands only reminded him that death was approaching.
"We can't keep waiting like this," he suddenly stopped and turned to the others, "We need to act! We need to find a way out of here!" There was a hysterical desperation in his voice, "I have a company to run, employees to support! I can't die in this godforsaken place!"
Thomas curled up on a single sofa, hugging his knees to his chest, looking like a frightened child. His young face was filled with confusion and fear, his eyes occasionally flashing with a despair beyond his years. His fingers kept sliding across his phone screen; although there was no signal, this mechanical action seemed to bring him a bit of psychological comfort.
"It's useless..." he mumbled, "All communications have been cut off... We've completely lost contact with the outside world... It's like... like we've disappeared from this world..."
Sara sat near the bar counter, one hand holding a cup of coffee that had long gone cold, the other supporting her chin. Her eyes wandered over the others, filled with some kind of complex emotion that was difficult to name. Compared to others, she appeared relatively calm, but this calmness revealed a disturbing calculatedness, as if she were evaluating something, or waiting for something.
Ross knelt on the carpet in the center of the great hall, hands clasped together, lips moving silently. She had been praying for an entire night, her tears long dried up, leaving only deep despair and self-condemnation. Her voice came intermittently, filled with longing for redemption and fear of punishment.
"Lord... please forgive our sins... please guide us to find the path of redemption... please let those innocent souls rest in peace..." Her prayers echoed throughout the hall, but sounded more like a lamentation for the dead.
Thunder began to rumble outside the windows, lightning occasionally tearing through the sky, casting the hall in alternating light and shadow. Each flash of lightning threw distorted shadows on the walls, reminiscent of those innocents who had died in their sins. The rain gradually intensified, the sound of raindrops hitting the windows becoming increasingly urgent, like countless hands knocking on the glass, demanding entry into this sinful sanctuary.
In this extremely oppressive atmosphere, Richard suddenly erupted. He abruptly stood up and violently smashed his broken lighter onto the ground, producing a crisp shattering sound.
"Enough!" he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the hall, "I'm sick of this feeling of waiting to die! We are successful people, social elites, not lambs waiting for slaughter!"
His anger erupted as suddenly and violently as a volcano, the fear and despair accumulated over many days finally finding an outlet for release. He pointed at the others, a manic gleam flashing in his eyes.
"We're being treated as playthings! Being manipulated! And yet we sit here like idiots waiting to die!" his voice became sharp and piercing, "Someone is orchestrating all this behind the scenes, someone is watching us torture each other, someone is enjoying our suffering!"
James, infected by Richard's anger, also began to get agitated: "You're right! We need to find the mastermind behind this! We need to fight back!"
But Victoria poured cold water on the idea with a tired yet rational voice: "Richard, what do you think we can counter with? We're trapped on this island, with no contact to the outside world, no method of escape. And..." she paused, her voice becoming more solemn, "perhaps we really do need to take responsibility for our crimes."
"Responsibility?" Richard turned to face Victoria, anger burning in his eyes, "Are you saying we deserve to be killed? That we deserve to be used as experimental subjects?"
"I'm not saying that," Victoria shook her head, "but we can't deny that we have indeed hurt many innocent people. Those files..."
"Those files are forged!" Richard interrupted her, "They're the work of some psychopathic psychologist! The purpose is to make us feel guilty, to make us destroy ourselves!"
Sara suddenly spoke up, her voice calm and clear, forming a stark contrast to the others' agitation: "Richard, do you really think those documents are forged? Even those photos, those hospital records, those death certificates?"
She slowly stood up and walked to the center of the hall, with everyone's eyes focused on her. In the dim light, she looked both elegant and dangerous, like an avenging goddess about to reveal the truth.
"I think we should be honest," Sara continued, her voice carrying an unsettling certainty, "at least honest with each other. Because in this situation, deception will only make us die faster."
Thomas looked up at Sara, confusion in his eyes: "What are you trying to say?"
In this heavy silence, Ross suddenly pointed to the coffee table not far away: "What... what is that?"
Everyone followed her gaze and saw six slips of paper placed on the coffee table in the center of the lobby. Each slip had a person's name neatly written on it. The papers were light yellow, appearing to be high-quality stationery, looking particularly conspicuous in the dim light.
Richard was the first to walk over and pick up the slip with his name on it. The paper felt of good quality, with a short message written in elegant handwriting: "Please gather in the lobby at six o'clock. The truth will be revealed. —A.C."
The others also picked up their own slips one after another. The content was exactly the same, with only the mysterious "A.C." as the signature.
"When did these papers appear?" James's voice trembled slightly, "They weren't here just now..."
Thomas looked at the paper in his hand, feeling a chill: "A.C.... these two letters..."
Victoria suddenly realized something, her face turning as pale as paper: "Anna Chen...Anna Chen..."
This name struck everyone like lightning. They all remembered the victim names that appeared repeatedly in those folders, remembered those innocent lives who suffered because of their crimes.
"We must go," Sara said calmly, "We need to know the truth, no matter what."
Time passed slowly, each minute feeling like an hour. When six o'clock finally arrived, the six people had gathered in the lobby, each face filled with tension and fear. The storm continued to rage outside, with thunder striking their nerves like drumbeats.
Right at six o'clock, all lights in the lobby suddenly went out, leaving only the faint glow from a projector in the center. An image of a woman appeared on the wall, somewhat blurry, but clearly showing a middle-aged Asian woman with a haggard face and eyes filled with deep pain.
"If you are watching this recording," the woman began speaking, her voice calm but filled with suppressed emotion, "then I am no longer in this world."
This sentence made everyone hold their breath.
"My name is Anna Chen," the woman continued, "I am a biochemist, and also a mother who lost her daughter." She paused, a flash of pain crossing her eyes, "My daughter, Lily Chen, died from taking 'New Hope,' an antidepressant produced by Victoria Hart's company."
Victoria felt her legs weaken and had to hold onto the chair back to remain standing.
"But that's not all I want to tell you," Anna's voice grew heavier, "What I want to tell you is that I am now dying. Pancreatic cancer, late stage, doctors have given me no more than three months."
In the image, Anna gently stroked her haggard cheek: "You might ask why a dying woman would spend such enormous effort to orchestrate this trial? The answer is simple: because my death is related to every one of you."
She took a deep breath, her eyes burning with flames of anger: "My cancer is not accidental. After my daughter's death, I spent three years investigating the crimes of each one of you. To obtain evidence, I came into contact with toxic chemicals, I ventured into heavily polluted factories and mining areas, I risked investigating those dangerous industrial wastes. My body has endured poisoning it should never have had to endure, and all of this was to expose your evil deeds."
Richard wanted to speak up in defense, but found he couldn't make a sound.
"Richard Stone," Anna seemed to see them and addressed him directly, "your forced demolition not only killed Mrs. Margaret Wilson, but also caused me to lose the most important lead in my investigation of you. To find the evidence she had before her death, I spent months searching through the industrial ruins you created, and those toxic dust and chemical residues became one of the causes of my cancer."
"Victoria Hart," Anna's gaze turned to Victoria, "in order to obtain evidence from inside your company, I had to handle those experimental samples and chemical wastes that you discarded. My body has suffered from the long-term erosion of carcinogens as a result. You not only killed my daughter, but also indirectly killed me."
"James Carter, to track your hidden money flows, I delved into those polluting enterprises you invested in and was exposed to large amounts of toxic environments. Thomas Green, to obtain evidence of your company's data leaks, I risked entering those radiation-filled server rooms."
Anna's voice grew increasingly faint, but each word cut like a sharp knife into the hearts of everyone present: "Sara Davis, the environmental pollution case you helped cover up forced me to venture into those contaminated lands and water sources to seek the truth. Ross Adams, the disaster relief funds you misappropriated compelled me to personally visit those dangerous disaster areas to collect evidence."
In the image, Anna had become emaciated, clearly enduring immense suffering: "Each of your crimes has left a poisonous mark on my body. I spent three years, using my own life as the price, gathering evidence of all your crimes. And now, I am about to die, but my mission is not yet complete."
She coughed a few times, and the image shook slightly: "I know the law cannot punish you, and money and power will protect you from the punishment you deserve. So I designed this island, designed this trial. With what remains of my life, I created a special toxin that only works on those who refuse to repent."
"The deaths of Emily White and Michael Blake proved my theory: those who completely indulge in pleasure and refuse to face their crimes, their bodies automatically give up resistance, and the toxin accelerates their death. This is not murder, this is natural selection, a consequence of their own choices."
A flash of sadness passed through Anna's eyes: "I had hoped you would choose to repent on your own, choose to atone for those innocent deaths. But now it seems that most of you are still making excuses for your crimes."
The screen began to flicker, indicating that the video was nearing its end: "This is the last message I'm leaving for you all. I am already dead, killed by the cancer caused by your sins. There is no one else on this island, just the six of you. All automated systems will shut down in seventy-two hours, including food supplies, water and electricity systems, and any potential rescue signals."
Anna's voice became exceptionally clear: "Now you know the truth, but this doesn't change your situation. You must survive on this island by your own strength, or... accept the fate you deserve. The choice is in your hands, but whatever you choose, justice has already been served."
"My daughter Lily, mom has finally avenged you..." Anna's voice grew increasingly faint, "May the innocent souls rest in peace, may evil eventually receive its due retribution..."
The screen suddenly cut off, and the hall was plunged back into darkness. A few seconds later, the lights came back on, but that bright illumination now seemed particularly harsh and cold.
Six people stood in the hall, each deeply shocked by the truth they had just heard. They were no longer facing a living enemy, but the revenge of a deceased mother. And most terrifying of all, they were now completely isolated and helpless, forced to survive on this dangerous island by their own strength.
The storm outside seemed to grow more violent, as if even the sky was roaring for this long-delayed justice. And on this abandoned island, six once high and mighty successful individuals could now only struggle to survive in desperation, bearing the ultimate consequences of their crimes.
The lobby fell into a deathly silence, with only the rumble of thunder outside reminding them of the cruel reality. Everyone was deeply shocked by Anna Chen's words; she had not only exposed their crimes but also made them understand a terrible fact: they had not only indirectly killed countless innocent people but had also directly caused a mother's death.
Richard trembled as he spoke: "What...what do we do now?"
No one could answer this question. They now knew the truth, but this truth could not save them; instead, it made their situation even more desperate. Anna Chen was dead, which meant that no one could eliminate the threat on this island, no one could shut down those deadly systems.
James said desperately: "Seventy-two hours...we only have seventy-two hours left..."
"And then what?" Thomas's voice was filled with fear, "Then we just wait to die on this island?"
Victoria, as a doctor, tried to maintain rational thinking: "We need to find a way to survive. This island is large, perhaps there are other resources, perhaps there's a way to leave..."
But Sara shook her head: "You heard what Anna said. This island was carefully designed to trap us. She spent three years, sacrificing her life, all for this moment."
Ross knelt on the ground and began to pray: "God... please forgive us... please give us a chance... we are willing to repent..."
But her prayers seemed feeble in the empty hall. God seemed to have already given them chances, and they chose to ignore them. Now, they must face the consequences of their choices.
Six people stood in the hall, each facing the most desperate moment of their lives. They possessed wealth, power, and status, but on this isolated island, all of that was meaningless. They had to rely on their own strength to survive in the coming days, or accept the fate of death.
Thunder continued to rumble, rain kept beating against the windows, and on this night filled with the scent of death, six souls would search for their last hope of survival in desperation. Justice had been served, but the judgment was far from over.
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