Twelve Zodiac Signs: Battle Royale

The first round of the death game ended with only eleven survivors. I stared at the zodiac order and suddenly realized: the one who was missing was born in the Year of the Rat.

On the second night, a rabbit girl pushed the door open with a smile. “The hunter this round is the Rabbit.”

Everyone looked at me, since I happened to be born in the Year of the Rabbit.

But the real rules of the hunt were hidden in the nursery rhyme everyone had ignored:

“Lord Rabbit, bright-eyed and keen, eat the Rat, then find the Ox and Sheep.”

Chains scraped along the floor behind me. I gripped the note I had just found:

“Remember, what you ate wasn’t rat meat. It was the scapegoat.”