Quitting wasn't an option. Not now—not when it would mean certain death.
But Xie Mingchi's scalp was prickling. It wasn't just that his light source had gone out and plunged him back into total darkness—it was the laughter that came after the candle died.
It was messy laughter, chaotic and jumbled, like many people laughing at once—men and women, but more like children.
Laughter, at a time like this, was nothing short of a death knell.
Along with the laughter, Xie Mingchi thought he heard something turning.
A grinding, stone-on-stone kind of sound. Like a massive stone door creaking open.
He didn't have time to think about it. His candle had gone out—but thankfully, the fourth person still had one lit. He could see the faint red glow at the end of the corridor.
He sped up, trying to reach the corner, but something started to feel off.
The corridor was carpeted, and walking on it gave off a soft, static rustle. Everything was bathed in that reddish-black haze, but after being in the dark for a while, his eyes had adjusted.
He could make out the carpet's pale hue in the dark.
But now, right ahead of him, there was a patch of pure black—like something was missing.
The carpet was gone. Or maybe the *floor* itself was missing.
Xie Mingchi slowed, creeping up to the edge where the carpet disappeared. He couldn't see clearly, so he slid one foot forward, inching toward the void to test it out.
The front half of his foot slipped forward—and found empty air.
He squinted, focusing hard. It was a staircase.
A flight of stairs leading from the fourth floor down to the third.
The butler had said on day one: the third floor was the dining area and held several restricted rooms. Also, the rules strictly stated you *could not* take the stairs from the third to the fourth floor.
But he hadn't said anything about going down.
Even so, Xie Mingchi's instincts screamed at him. This staircase had appeared out of nowhere. There was no way he was just going to walk down.
He remembered how, earlier that afternoon, he'd studied the layout of the villa. Every floor had five or six staircases, but they didn't all lead to the same places. Some even connected to the same room.
Given the strange sound he'd just heard, and this staircase's sudden appearance, it wasn't hard to imagine one of those staircases had shifted—moved into place in front of him.
So where did the missing floor section go?
Even if it was technically allowed to go down to the third floor, what if he went down and the staircase moved again? How would he get back up?
He couldn't use the staircase from the third floor to the fourth—it was against the rules. So he'd have to go all the way down to the first floor, find the elevator, and ride it back up.
But the elevator wasn't on this hallway. If he returned that way, it wouldn't be the same route the third person was supposed to take.
If he left the fourth floor—would the game pause? Or would it count as a failure to complete the task?
If failure meant death… he couldn't take that risk.
Better to wait. Maybe the staircase would move away again, and the missing floor would return, letting him continue his path to the fourth corner.
His heart pounded but gradually settled. He pulled his foot back and stood still. No matter how creepy the laughter got, or how haunting the children's song echoed through the corridor, he acted like he didn't hear a thing.
While he waited, Xie Mingchi reviewed everything that had happened tonight.
Wan Wuqiu and Shen Feinian had shamelessly insisted on sharing a room with them. They answered questions eagerly, maybe *too* eagerly. Wan Wuqiu even suggested sharing a bed with Xie Mingchi—despite knowing he was with He Qi. That made no sense.
He and Shen Feinian were more familiar with each other. In a life-or-death situation, even if they didn't sleep alone, why would they just hand over the big bed?
He was suspicious of them. But Wan Wuqiu *had* helped him earlier. The candle going out seemed like an accident—unless Wan Wuqiu knew the rules well enough to plan that on purpose.
If that were true, Wan Wuqiu wasn't just a puppetmaster—he might be Mr. Du's assistant. Or even Mr. Du himself.
But then again, the way he talked... He seemed sincere.
That would stay a maybe.
Then there was the moment they were awakened by the singing. Xie Mingchi and Wan Wuqiu woke up quickly, but light sleeper He Qi and "bodyguard" Shen Feinian didn't budge.
Soon after, the child ghost came to take them to play the game.
Did everyone who woke up have to play? Or did only four people wake up—and they just happened to be the ones picked?
If it was the latter, then what was the criteria for selection?
And what about how the child ghost placed them at the corners? It was very deliberate. Neither he nor Wan Wuqiu were assigned to the corner closest to their room. So it wasn't random—it had to follow some rule.
There were too many questions:
1. Who are Wan Wuqiu and Shen Feinian? What do they want?
2. What triggers the midnight wake-up? What's the selection criteria for the game? How often does the game happen?
3. How is each player's corner determined? Does the position mean something?
Xie Mingchi rubbed his aching temples and committed those questions to memory. Since the night was clearly unsafe, he'd search for answers during the day—if he survived that long.
With nothing left to occupy his time, he stood still in the dark, listening to that ghostly song.
Finally, after what felt like half an hour, the grinding noise returned. Xie Mingchi perked up and stared into the dark.
As the staircase slowly turned away, a platform rotated out of the wall—replacing the piece of floor that had vanished.
The corridor was whole again.
He let out a long breath. The laughter vanished at the same time, replaced by a sigh.
It was a man's voice, full of frustration and regret.
Xie Mingchi didn't linger. After waiting two more minutes to confirm the floor was stable, he continued walking.
With the corridor restored, it didn't take him long to reach the end.
There, standing nervously, was a young man, eyes darting left and right in panic. He looked like he was on the verge of collapse.
Anyone would panic after hearing that creepy song for so long. It was obvious—he was the fourth.
When he saw Xie Mingchi, the boy rushed forward, near tears: "Which one are you? What number are you?!"
He was shaking violently. Xie Mingchi recognized him from earlier—looked younger than He Qi, still a student.
Xie Mingchi didn't answer right away. He simply reached up, removed the lamp cover at the corner, pulled out the candle inside, used it to relight his own, and then handed both candles to the boy.
"'The third brings light to the fourth, so the fourth may walk the path...'"
"'The fourth walks and walks and walks—until he disappears...'"
The ghostly tune reached that exact line as he handed over the flames.
The boy broke down.
He'd been clinging to hope, but this—this made it real. His hope evaporated.
Xie Mingchi made sure the handoff was smooth—he didn't dare look the boy in the eye.
The kid tried to force a smile but failed. Bathed in that eerie red light, his face twisted in despair.
He probably wasn't new to the puppet realm. Maybe he'd seen people survive before—and still held onto a shred of hope.
"The fourth doesn't have to disappear... right? Maybe he just... ends up somewhere else?" he asked, voice trembling.
It was the first time Xie Mingchi had to face someone like this—someone he knew likely wouldn't make it. It hurt.
Remembering that the second person's rule was "stop when someone coughs," and realizing that talking wasn't explicitly forbidden—and that Wan Wuqiu had spoken without consequence—Xie Mingchi decided to offer what little he could.
"If a staircase suddenly appears," he said softly, "don't go down. Wait. Let it disappear. Wait for the floor to come back."
It wasn't much, but it was the best advice he had.
The boy gave him a grateful look, hesitated, and finally walked down the corridor, candles in hand.
Xie Mingchi had fulfilled his task. He exhaled deeply and crouched at the corner, waiting.
Soon, he heard the grinding noise again.
The boy must have run into the same disappearing staircase.
Would Xie Mingchi's tip help him survive?
The song kept playing. Another half hour passed.
Still no sign of the boy.
"Ugh—!"
Suddenly, a muffled groan.
Five minutes later, the song stopped.
The red glow faded back to dull yellow.
The fourth had disappeared.
The game was over.
But Xie Mingchi felt no relief—only heaviness in his chest.
He took a deep breath, forced himself upright, and leaned against the wall.
Before long, Wan Wuqiu appeared from the other end of the corridor, walking closer.
"The game's over," he said gently. "We can go back now."
"Mm," Xie Mingchi croaked, voice hoarse. "Where's the first player?"
"She got taken," Wan Wuqiu said with a sigh. "She spoke during the handoff."
Xie Mingchi blinked. "She talked?"
"She asked me, 'Will I really disappear?' And the moment she said it, something grabbed her and dragged her away."
Surprised, Xie Mingchi frowned. "But she wasn't the fourth. Why did she get taken?"
Wan Wuqiu looked at him meaningfully. "Earlier this afternoon, I saw her with a guy—looked like a student."
The realization hit Xie Mingchi like a punch: "She was the fourth player's 'ghost puppet'!"