First floor.
The Programmer chose to inspect the hall, dining room, and his own room—areas relatively familiar to him—while Wrench took responsibility for the kitchen, Bathroom, and several storage rooms.
Wrench said yes readily enough, but his heart was drumming with anxiety.
As he rummaged through the grease-stained kitchen, he couldn’t help muttering to himself.
A wave of regret weighed heavily on his heart.
He actually did think the second floor was the key.
That Student kid might look cold and distant, but he always seemed to hit the mark.
Following him and the others would definitely give them a better chance of survival.
But he didn’t dare.
Xiao Hui’s death last night, and the Programmer’s frantic escape this morning—that face twisted by extreme terror—made his legs go weak.
Though he hadn’t seen the ghost in the mirror with his own eyes, the Programmer’s soul-shaken expression was even more frightening than if he had.
He would rather, like the Programmer, shamelessly let others scout ahead and cower on the first floor than face the unknown terror directly.
Survival was far more important than pride.
After checking the kitchen and finding nothing, Wrench took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the Bathroom.
A stench of sewage hit him in the face.
The Bathroom wasn’t large—just a sink, toilet, and bathtub.
He carefully skirted around the sink mirror directly opposite the door and first went to inspect the bathtub.
The tub held a layer of yellowish-brown scum; there was nothing unusual about it.
He checked the toilet next, even mustering the courage to lift the tank lid.
Inside was only the float valve—nothing else.
Finally, only the sink remained.
Wrench hesitated at the doorway.
He wanted to check the cabinet doors and drawers under the sink, but doing so would inevitably bring him into the mirror’s line of sight.
He gritted his teeth, reassuring himself that as long as he didn’t look up at the mirror, he’d be fine.
Head down, moving like a thief, he quickly stepped to the sink, crouched down, and pulled open the cabinet door.
Inside were only a few rolls of toilet paper and an empty bottle of cleaner.
Just as he was preparing to stand up and leave, the corner of his eye inadvertently glanced upward.
The mirror reflected his hunched form.
His heartbeat skipped in an instant; cold sweat poured down his back.
He stared fixedly at the ground, watching the mirror from the corner of his eye, not daring to move, his mind filled with a single thought: the person in the mirror mustn’t move, mustn’t look up, mustn’t be different from me…
Time dragged on second by second.
The reflection in the mirror maintained the same posture as him, with no unusual movement.
Only then did Wrench release a long breath, feeling that his shirt was soaked through with sweat.
He crawled out of the Bathroom on hands and knees, unwilling to stay a second longer.
After resting for a while, he made his way toward the storage rooms at the end of the corridor.
There were two storage rooms—one for food, one for miscellaneous items.
They had come to look them over roughly before and found nothing strange.
He entered the food storage first; it was empty except for a few broken wooden crates and dust everywhere.
Then he pushed open the door to the adjacent storage room.
It was piled high with old furniture covered in white cloth.
The dust that billowed up made him sneeze several times in a row.
He pinched his nose and walked in, wanting to see if there was anything like a hidden door behind these old furnishings.
Just as he rounded a cloth-covered wardrobe and reached the back of the room—
“Bang!”
The storage room door slammed shut with a thunderous crash.
Wrench’s whole body trembled; he nearly jumped.
He spun around sharply.
The doorway was pitch black.
“Programmer?
Is that you?” he called out, mustering his courage.
“Don’t fucking scare me!
Open the door right now!”
No response came from outside—no footsteps, no reply, nothing.
He scrambled to the door in a panic, desperately twisting the handle.
“Click!
Click!”
The doorknob wouldn’t budge, as if it had been welded shut.
“Open the door!
Open it!” he shouted, pounding on the wood: “Programmer!
Damn it, I know it’s you!
Open up for me!”
The only answer was the echo of his own voice.
He cried.
This large, muscular man now wept like a child, begging: “I was wrong!
I was wrong, okay?
Don’t scare me anymore…
please…”
In his desperation, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
Mirrors!
When he first came in, had he seen any mirrors?
He racked his brain, mentally reviewing the storage room’s layout again and again.
It seemed…
there really weren’t any.
All that was stacked here were old pieces of furniture—wardrobes, boxes, broken chairs…
no mirrors, nothing reflective.
This discovery steadied him slightly.
As long as it’s not the ghost from the mirror…
But why did the door close by itself?
…
On the other side, the Programmer was checking the fireplace in the hall when he picked up on the sound of the door slamming.
The sound had come from the end of the corridor.
He stopped what he was doing, frowning.
Was that Wrench?
What was he making such a racket for?
Wait…
a loud noise…
A spark of insight flashed through the Programmer’s mind.
He clearly remembered that Rule One forbade making noise.
The Programmer gave a cold laugh.
He could guess what had happened to Wrench.
That idiot had probably locked himself in and was now screaming inside in terror.
This was an opportunity.
Without hesitation, he headed toward the sound.
…
Inside the storage room, Wrench had given up calling for help.
He leaned against a wardrobe, breathing heavily, his entire body drenched in cold sweat.
Then he smelled something.
A strange smell—like something burning?
He sniffed.
The odor grew stronger, mixed with the stench of rot.
Using the faint light seeping through the door crack and the lone window, he cautiously looked around.
The furniture draped in white cloth cast twisted shadows in the gloom, but he saw no sign of fire or charring.
Where was the smell coming from?
His eyes scanned the room frantically, fear making it impossible to concentrate.
Suddenly, his gaze froze.
Just now… You are reading on g.com, the official source.
he thought he’d seen something!
Toward the door!
A horrible realization crept into his mind.
Stiffly, he turned his neck around, bit by bit.
The storage room door was still shut.
But at some point, a dark shadow had appeared behind it.
The shadow had almost merged with the darkness.
In the dim light, Wrench could make out a face—one that looked as though it had been scorched by fire and then left to rot in water.
Skin shriveled and blackened, features indistinct, but eyes full of malice staring directly at him.
“Ahhh—”
A shriek erupted from Wrench’s throat; his mind went blank.
He wanted to run, but his legs felt like they were filled with lead and wouldn’t obey.
Besides, the storage room door was shut tight—there was nowhere to escape.
Terror had nearly taken physical form.
He stared at that figure, at those eyes, feeling as if his very soul was being devoured piece by piece.
Perhaps it was survival instinct.
Perhaps desperation had bred madness.
A reckless fury suddenly surged up from the depths of his being.
To hell with it!
If I die now, I’ll be a hero again in eighteen years!
Wrench’s eyes went wide, veins bulging at his temples.
He glared fiercely at the ghostly figure, his chest heaving violently.
With all the strength in his body, he roared:
“Come on then!”
…
In the corridor, the Programmer had just reached the storage room area.
He was listening intently at the door, trying to gauge Wrench’s situation.
Suddenly.
“Ahhh—”
A scream burst from behind the door.
“Come on then!”
Another roar.
Then came a cacophony of crashes, as though something was being violently smashed against the wall, followed by the sickening sound of shattering objects and flesh tearing.
The Programmer’s breath caught in his throat.
He recognized that voice—it was Wrench’s.
He didn’t even have time to think.
His body’s instinct had taken over.
Run!
He spun around and bolted away at the fastest speed he could manage, not caring about anything else, heading straight for his own room.
He didn’t even dare return to the hall, because he didn’t know if that thing would follow him out.
Back in his room, 101, he locked the door behind him and dragged the desk in front of it, wedging it tight.
Only when he’d done all this did he slide down the wall, sitting against the door, his heart pounding wildly.
Dead!
Wrench was dead!
Not the ghost from the mirror—something new!
And he’d been standing right outside the door!
…
____
👻🔥Seek: Walnut-chan🔥👻
🔥 New history: Samsara Game: Starting with Shirogane Kei
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