“Dead?”
Artist covered her mouth and let out a low gasp.
How long had they been apart?
One living, breathing person just…
gone?
Shido Makoto’s eyes turned cold.
He stared at the Programmer and asked, word by word: “What happened?”
“I…
I don’t know…” The Programmer’s gaze wavered, his expression still shaken with shock.
“After we split up, I was looking for clues in the hall and dining area, and then…
then I heard Wrench screaming from the storage room…”
He seemed trapped in a horrific memory, his voice trembling: “That scream only came once, and then there was a crash—clang, bang—like something was smashed to pieces…”
“I was terrified at the time.
I thought…
I thought he must have encountered that ghost in the mirror…”
“Ghost in the mirror?” Shido Makoto seized on the term.
“Yes!” The Programmer nodded frantically, as if grasping at a lifeline: “The one we encountered this morning!”
“Before we split up, I even specifically warned him not to look at mirrors, to stay far away from anything that could reflect!
Who knew that he…”
His face twisted into an expression of both fear and anger: “I waited for a long time, but he never came back.”
“I didn’t dare go look.
I was afraid that thing was still there, so I could only…
only wait here…”
As he spoke, he even squeezed out a few tears, appearing pitiful and helpless.
Artist believed him.
She was kindhearted by nature, and seeing the Programmer in such a state, coupled with thoughts of Wrench’s gruesome death, she couldn’t hold back her own tears any longer.
A companion who had been full of life just this morning was now gone—not even a body to be found.
Shirogane Kei kept her head down, her expression hidden.
Only Shido Makoto continued to study the Programmer.
The Programmer’s story sounded reasonable enough—attributing Wrench’s death to the known ghost in the mirror was convenient.
It explained the death, exonerated himself, and even painted him as a caring friend who had warned his comrade.
Good acting, but too many holes.
Shido Makoto smiled coldly in his mind.
According to the Programmer’s account, his first reaction after hearing the scream wasn’t to check on his companion’s safety, or even to run away immediately—instead he waited in place?
A person selfish enough to push his teammate forward to scout ahead would suddenly become so team-spirited?
The biggest inconsistency: from when they went upstairs to when they came back down was less than an hour total.
In such a short window, Wrench just happened to be unlucky enough to trigger the exact fatal rule the Programmer had warned him about?
There were no such coincidences in this world.
The only explanation was that the Programmer was lying.
And if he was lying, he was either directly or indirectly responsible for Wrench’s death.
Maybe he had lured Wrench into some dangerous area, or perhaps he had exploited some unknown rule to kill him.
But given the current situation, while the Programmer was suspicious, suspicion was just suspicion.
He had no evidence.
In this environment, an accusation without proof would only cause infighting and completely collapse their already fragile team.
He chose not to expose the lie.
“We understand.
Our condolences,” Shido Makoto said flatly, without emotion.
The cold two words caused the Programmer’s crying to halt abruptly.
He looked at Shido Makoto with some surprise, apparently not expecting such a reaction.
Shido Makoto paid him no attention and turned instead to ask: “Did you find anything new on the first floor?”
“No…
nothing…” The Programmer’s expression became unnatural, and he quickly shook his head.
“We went through the places we’d searched before and looked at them carefully.
There was nothing.”
That “nothing” Shido Makoto didn’t believe a single word of.
“Is that so.” Shido Makoto nodded, then gestured upstairs: “We didn’t find anything either.”
“We’d barely been up there for a while before we ran into ghosts in the hallway.
Two charred figures—we barely made it back alive.
We didn’t have time to look for clues.”
Upon hearing “two charred figures,” the Programmer’s eyes widened.
He didn’t really doubt their story.
Because the disheveled state of Shido Makoto and his two companions couldn’t lie.
Artist’s tear-streaked face, Shirogane Kei’s pale complexion, and the faint smell of burnt flesh on all three of them—it all proved they had indeed been through a fierce battle.
So the second floor was that dangerous.
The Programmer felt secretly relieved that he hadn’t gone up.
At the same time, he dropped his suspicion about whether the three had found clues and hidden them.
Being chased by ghosts like that, when would they have had time to search?
“Then…
what do we do now?” the Programmer ventured to ask.
“Wait,” Shido Makoto said in a single word.
“Wait for dinner time.”
With that, he stopped looking at the Programmer, turned around, and headed toward his room.
Shirogane Kei and Artist immediately followed suit.
The three of them never exchanged another word with the Programmer.
Left standing alone, the Programmer froze in place, his expression cycling through shades of blue and white.
He watched the three figures disappear, and his eyes gradually turned cold and dark.
Room 106.
Shido Makoto locked the door from inside, leaned against it, and let out a long, heavy breath.
He pulled out the female maid’s diary from his lower back and opened it again.
Female maid Lina, butler Viktor, the master and mistress, the young master…
Those two charred ghosts on the second floor must be the master and mistress who burned to death.
Viktor—suspected to be the butler who set fire to the mansion.
Could Wrench’s death be related to him?
The Programmer said the ghost in the mirror, since the ghost we encountered this morning appeared in a handheld mirror.
But Shido Makoto recalled his experiences from yesterday to today.
Among them, there were people who had passed by mirrors, and even in the dining hall and the main hall, there were many reflective surfaces.
This meant that not all mirrors had problems…
So just how did Wrench die?
He turned his thoughts to the mansion’s rules again.
The effective range of Rule One was very likely limited to the dining hall, or more precisely, to the vicinity of the puppet-like people.
This much could be basically confirmed.
As for Rule Three, it was still hard to pin down precisely, but he had developed a rough understanding.
Then—was it possible that Wrench’s death resulted from violating some hidden rule?
Or did the Programmer exploit some loophole in the rules?
Shido Makoto rubbed his brow.
There were too few clues; all his theories lacked sufficient evidence.
But he could confirm one thing: the Programmer was dangerous.
Given the chance, he would undoubtedly stab them in the back without hesitation.
He would have to be extra careful at dinner.
He carefully hid the diary under the mattress, then lay on the bed and closed his eyes, beginning to replay everything that had happened today in his mind.
Time was drawing closer to seven o’clock dinner.
It was then that a knock came at the door.
“Knock, knock.”
Shido Makoto opened his eyes, alertness flashing across his face.
He then quietly walked to the back of the door and carefully peered through the peephole.
Standing outside was Shirogane Kei.
She seemed hesitant, standing in the hallway for a moment before raising her hand to knock again.
Shido Makoto pulled the door open.
“Something you need?”
Shirogane Kei seemed startled at the door suddenly opening, instinctively taking a half step back.
She looked at Shido Makoto, pressed her lips together, and seemed to be organizing her thoughts.
“Can we…
talk inside?”
Shido Makoto looked at her for a moment, then stepped aside to let her pass.
After Shirogane Kei had entered the room, Shido Makoto immediately closed the door behind her and locked it again.
Once inside, Shirogane Kei first looked around the room, then turned to Shido Makoto.
She was silent for a moment, as if choosing her words.
“Who exactly are you?”
____
👻🔥P- Walnut-chan🔥👻
🔥 New history: Samsara Game: Starting with Shirogane Kei
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