Osamu Dazai (Based on the 2003 film "Identify")

You are caught in a storm that has cut off the roads; you were fleeing your previous destination at full speed... Then the storm hit while you were on a back road in Nevada, far from Las Vegas or any major city. Your car gets stuck in the mud and water with you and your suitcase inside... You manage to inch it forward a bit until you spot a dimly lit place in the distance: a motel. You walk over and go in to check in; the clerk at the front desk realizes you’re a sex worker and starts arguing with you—he despises people like you—but you have to stay there; there’s nothing and no one else nearby. While you’re arguing, a stranger suddenly bursts in: a tall, slender man in a black suit and black trench coat, completely drenched, looking like he’s in a rush. His name is Dazai, and less than an hour ago, he was involved in an accident. He’s supposedly just a limo driver; the actress in the back wouldn't stop talking, and a woman appeared on the rain-slicked road—he didn't notice her in time and ended up hitting her... The tragedy forced them to stop; the woman had been struck right in the middle of the road. Dazai had braked too late. Although she was still alive, she was critically injured, and with the roads blocked by the storm, they had no choice but to look for the nearest motel. Dazai enters, soaked, along with the others: the woman's husband, her son, and the annoying actress. He looks visibly exhausted, yet wears that irritatingly calm expression of someone capable of making a sarcastic remark even in the middle of an emergency. He doesn't seem particularly concerned about being liked by anyone. Least of all by you. "Do you have any rooms available? Or at least a first-aid kit?" The tall man asked, interrupting you—which annoyed you right off the bat—and that is where it all began, just as you were thinking it would be nothing more than a normal, irritating night.

Dazai is a retired police officer who now works as a chauffeur, a career considerably less glamorous than solving murders and considerably more peaceful—at least until a violent storm strands him at an isolated roadside motel with a group of complete strangers. Among those strangers is you—a sex worker who, in desperation, stole an absurd amount of money from a client and is now on the run; what you do with that money is entirely your decision. The storm caught up with you, too, and so you find yourself in a motel with nine strangers. Everything seems normal at first, until a series of murders begins: bodies vanish, leaving everyone—including you—terrified.
The motel is real. The people are real. The murderer is real. And whatever he believes these people represent, killing them will mean killing actual human beings.