Chaos erupted inside the cabins as people argued, shoved, and trampled one another. “What are you doing? Push the button right now!” “Get out of my way! If you won’t press it, I will!” “Are you all insane? The other ship hasn’t pressed theirs yet! What is wrong with you?” “If we’re a second too late, we’ll all die! You have to press it first!” Two ships. Two bombs. Two buttons. The ship that presses the button lives. Unconditionally. The ship that doesn't press the button… might die. Rationally, there’s no reason to press it. This isn't a situation where some lunatic who just loves pressing buttons is going to doom everyone. It's not a case of, "Well, the other ship is full of prisoners, so those crazy bastards will definitely press it!" Nor is it a scenario where both ships explode if no one acts. Logically, staying still is the winning move. There is absolutely no need to press the button. But what if you could stop them from thinking rationally? That’s where my agitators came in, immediately seeding the crowd with incitement and lies. “I’m telling you, they’re going to press it! I can feel it!” “That’s right! We have to press it first to survive! What guarantee do you have that they won’t? In this world, you either kill or you get killed!” I had placed agitators on both ships for this very reason. Before anyone could apply logic to the situation, they would spread the rumor that to hesitate was to die. As a result, those with a weaker mentality would be instantly gripped by anxiety and fear. Rational judgment would blur, then collapse entirely into collective madness. “Let’s press it before they do!” Of course, a conflict was inevitable—a war between primal fear and dawning reason. The terror, fanned by my agents, screamed at them to press the button immediately. But as the minutes ticked by, reason would begin to claw its way back into their minds. Why? Because a single, undeniable fact would slowly begin to emerge. “The other ship still hasn’t pressed the button either!” a woman’s shriek cut through the hall. That’s right. As time passed, people were starting to realize it. The other ship hadn’t detonated them. And if they thought about it, why would they? The stage I’d set was perfect. First, I’d contacted everyone and lured them onto the ships, then I severed all communications. Wi-Fi? LTE? Nothing. Anyone looking at their phone would just assume it was broken. At the same time, I broadcast my message live—a pre-recorded video, of course. There are bombs on your ships. If they explode, you will all die. But there are detonators on board. However, the detonator on your ship is not for your bomb, but for the bomb on the other ship. If you press it, the people over there will die. But oh, my! Their detonator is for your ship. Even if you don’t press the button, who knows? The ship next to you might. Whether to press it or not… is entirely up to you. You have thirty minutes. Good luck. And then, the chaos began. It was a warzone. In the captain’s cabins, the captains agonized over the detonators while the passengers screamed and fought in the halls. Yes. This was the scene. The exact scene I had wanted to direct. It was inspired by a scene in a movie I watched before I fell into this world, the magnificent conflict between Batman and Joker. A choice between two ships at midnight. In the movie, it was a prison ship and a civilian cruise ship, and it all took place at night. Due to certain practical limitations, I couldn’t replicate it exactly. I mean, there are no prison ships in Sterling City. Even in a comic book world full of superpowered heroes, a prison ship doesn't just exist in the middle of Republic of Astoria. I worried the dramatic tension might suffer a bit as a result. Well, there are other ways to create drama. Phew, this was a lot of work to prepare. Unlike in that movie, people in this world have smartphones, so I had to block every signal. This little country is also crawling with so many low-level heroes; I had to make sure none of them could interfere. The life of a villain isn’t easy. Anyway… let’s see. Are they still fighting? Yes, the first ship is still a chaotic mess. Just as I planned. I knew it. What about the second one? “If you think we should press the button, please raise your hand.” Oh… People are closing their eyes and raising their hands. The captain is counting. What is this, an elementary school class president election? God. I’m feeling a little light-headed. Even if this was part of the plan, it’s still absurd to watch. Tearing my gaze from the projector screen, I looked over at Starlight, who stood silently at the far end of the room. Her face was a stiff mask, her eyes locked on the screen. Wow. But seriously. She’s so pretty. Starlight, the main character of the comic [Starfall!]. The star of one of the few hero comics drawn by a Astorian author, and the first to become a commercial success. Starlight. Her real name is Stella Clark. Her glossy blond hair shone like captured starlight. The red latex suit hugged every curve of her body. And her face… it was just impossibly, breathtakingly beautiful. Wow, seriously… Seeing my favorite character in the flesh like this, I felt like I could die happy right now. Of course, it wasn't time to die just yet. Yikes, was I staring? She turned her head and was now glaring daggers at me. “…Do you think you’re going to get away with this?” Even her voice is pretty. Ahem. Time to bury those thoughts and get back to work. “Now, that hurts,” I said cheerfully. “Did I tell anyone to press a button? Did I tell anyone to die? What did I do, exactly? I just gave them the detonators. They’re the ones scrambling to press them all on their own.” I shot her a wide grin. Honestly, since I manipulated the entire situation and planted my own people, I did feel a sliver of guilt. But what they don't know can't hurt them! That's right. Starlight’s expression remained stony. I continued, my voice dripping with false sincerity. “To be honest, I’m personally very interested in you, Miss Starlight. From what I’ve seen, you’re such an exemplary hero.” She glanced back at me, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. Time to really lay it on thick. “In an interview a while back, you said that all humans have the courage to sacrifice themselves in their hearts. A wonderful sentiment. I practically stood up and applauded when I heard it.” Now, let’s add a little laugh here. One second, two seconds, smile… and speak. Tap. I flicked my finger. On cue, the pre-installed lights behind me snapped on, bathing her in a sudden, harsh spotlight. As she frowned against the glare, I went on. “So this time, I’m going to give you a chance.” My voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Can you change those selfish people, Starlight?” The camera light blinked on. The broadcast had probably switched from the cruise ships to us. This was now being beamed out to everyone—the entire country, and more importantly, the passengers on those ships. “Yes, twenty minutes… have passed! Only ten minutes to go!” I announced to the unseen audience. “But our hero Starlight has something to say! Please, listen! Attention, passengers!” As soon as I finished, the camera swiveled to face her. Starlight looked taken aback for a moment, caught in the sudden shift. But, as expected from a professional hero, she quickly composed herself, sized up the situation, and stared straight into the lens. And she began to speak. “Hello, everyone. This is the-class hero, Starlight.” Just like that, she launched into a speech. “Everyone, I want you to think about the person standing next to you.” Even in this sudden, high-pressure situation, her voice was clear and steady. The gist of it was that the person next to them was a beloved family member to someone else. That they should trust one another. That faith would be rewarded. Don't worry. Something like that. It was a short, powerful speech, lasting maybe three or four minutes. After her impassioned plea concluded, I cut the camera and turned back to the monitors to check the situation in the cabins… Some people were on their feet, clapping through their tears. The captains were shouting “Hooray!” and tossing the detonators into the sea without a moment’s hesitation. Huh? Suddenly they were all singing and praising humanity in unison, and just like that, thirty minutes were up. The surviving passengers cried with joy, embracing and congratulating each other. Erm… this was what I’d intended, but somehow it was a little too dramatic. It felt like an 80s movie about patriotism. Starlight, meanwhile, looked visibly relieved that everyone had survived. This will be all over ViewTube tomorrow. The title will be something like: [Meridian Isles Was Surprised, Europe Was Shocked, and the Allied States Envied Astro-Hero! Her Words United the Passengers in Tears!]. Perfect. All right, time to get back in character. I casually turned the camera back to us… Okay, go. With a look of utter shock, I stared at the screen on the wall and twisted my body in theatrical disbelief. “W-What? This… this can’t be happening. Those selfish human beings…” I muttered, feigning bewilderment, just loud enough for the camera’s microphone to pick it up clearly. “No way…” Oh, wait. There was no way this couldn’t happen. Some of those passengers and both of the captains were actors I’d hired. Haha. What if, despite my agitators, they actually pressed the button? A good production requires meticulous planning. Things rarely go exactly as the producer intends. You always have to be prepared for variables. To avoid any unwelcome surprises, I obviously had to control the situation. The captains, the key passengers… they were all following a script I wrote. Now, I just had to act my part well. I glanced at Starlight, my face a mask of panic, and thought to myself. Starlight, Starlight. Stella Clark. The woman who was always under so much pressure, always getting hurt in the original comic. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you only walk on paths lined with flowers. Manipulation and directing. Lies and deceit. I’ll use whatever it takes. Time to continue the performance. “This can’t be happening… What in the hell is going on here?!”

Chapter 3: The Logic of Fear