The Programmer’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Yesterday, when he had described Wrench’s death, he had mentioned the door being shut with Wrench crying for help inside.
Was this Student suspicious of him?
Suspicious that he had been the one to close that door?
The Programmer’s heart sank, but he dared not let a single flicker of it show on his face.
He could only force out a dry laugh: “Right, right, right—Student, you’re always so thorough.
Better safe than sorry.”
Shido Makoto paid no attention to the flattery.
He gave Shirogane Kei a nod, then reached out and pushed open the door to the miscellaneous storage room.
“Creak——”
The room was dimly lit.
Several white dust sheets that had once covered the furniture lay overturned on the floor.
Wood shavings were scattered about, and in the corner, the floorboards bore a few dark brownish stains.
These traces bore witness to a brief struggle that had taken place here.
But…
“No body…” the Artist murmured.
Apart from the signs of disorder, the room was completely empty.
Just like Xiao Hui before him, Wrench’s body had vanished as well.
“No mirror, either.”
Shido Makoto’s gaze swept every corner of the room.
It was crammed with all manner of odds and ends, yet there was not a single reflective surface to be found.
His eyes finally settled on the Programmer.
The Programmer’s skin crawled under that stare.
He hurriedly waved his hands in explanation: “Yesterday I was just guessing!
I heard the scream and the first thing that popped into my head was the ghost in the mirror—how was I supposed to know there wasn’t a mirror in here…”
He argued desperately in his own defense: “Maybe a different ghost killed him?
There’s more than one ghost in this mansion!”
The Artist paled at the suggestion: “More than one?”
“Very likely!”
The Programmer spoke with emphatic conviction: “Think about it—the two charred ghost shadows you encountered on the second floor, the puppet in the dining room, the mirror ghost, and now yet another one that killed Wrench… This place is seriously cursed!”
He said it with such conviction that he was almost starting to believe it himself.
“Mm.” Shido Makoto replied with a noncommittal sound and withdrew his gaze.
He crouched down and carefully examined the marks on the floor.
Judging by the degree of chaos at the scene, Wrench had put up a fight before he died.
A big, muscular man—for him to be killed with only a single cry, whatever had done it must have possessed utterly overwhelming force.
At that moment, Shirogane Kei, still standing at the doorway, spoke: “Senpai, what do you make of it?”
Shido Makoto stood up at the question, dusted off his hands, and said: “The malevolent spirit on the main hall is most likely Viktor.”
“But… but how did he kill them?”
The Programmer couldn’t make sense of it.
At least the mirror ghost had a clear trigger condition—but Viktor?
Appearing and vanishing like a phantom, impossible to guard against?
“No idea.” Shido Makoto shook his head.
“But we can at least establish one thing: even in broad daylight, the main hall isn’t safe.”
That conclusion made every heart in the room sink.
“So what do we do now?” the Artist asked, completely at a loss.
“Go to the second floor.” Shido Makoto’s answer was absolute.
Shido Makoto fixed him with an icy stare.
“All the clues are up there.
Wrench already paid with his life to show us that hiding on the main hall gets you killed just the same.
Would you rather wait here for death, or go up there and find a way to survive?”
The Programmer gritted his teeth, and in the end chose to yield: “Fine.
I’ll come with you!”
Yet Shido Makoto shook his head.
“You can go up.”
“But only after we’ve gone up first.”
“What?” The Programmer’s voice shot up sharply.
“What’s that supposed to mean?
Treating me like a thief?”
The shame of being seen through to his face, combined with the humiliation of being singled out for different treatment, made him flare up on the spot.
“If that’s how you see it, then sure.” Shido Makoto was entirely indifferent to how the man chose to take it.
“You…” The rest of the Programmer’s words jammed hard in his throat.
Shirogane Kei walked in from the doorway and came to stand at Shido Makoto’s side.
“Whatever trust we had in you was spent the moment Wrench died.
Letting you tag along at all is already the biggest concession we’re willing to make.”
The Artist quietly moved to stand beside them as well.
She said nothing, but her positioning made her stance perfectly clear.
Three against one—you can’t bend the majority.
The Programmer’s complexion cycled through green and white before settling on a livid shade of puce, his chest heaving violently.
He wanted to explode.
Wanted to unleash a torrent of abuse.
But he didn’t dare.
He knew perfectly well that in a place where lives were worth less than grass, being completely isolated had only one outcome—death.
His fists clenched and unclenched, over and over, until at last he spat through his teeth: “Fine… I’ll wait!”
Shido Makoto didn’t spare him another glance.
He turned and led Shirogane Kei and the Artist toward the staircase.
…
The moment all three stepped onto the second floor, their footsteps halted in unison.
In the middle stretch of the corridor, the figure in the female maid’s uniform had appeared once more.
Just as she had yesterday, she stood motionless before a door.
But this time, the door she stood before was not the one from yesterday—it was a different door nearby, one that had been firmly shut before.
Shido Makoto’s pupils contracted slightly.
He understood.
The female maid was using this method to guide their exploration!
Yesterday it had been her own room, letting them learn the origins of the tragedy.
So what clues lay behind today’s door?
“Wait here and don’t move.”
Shido Makoto murmured the instruction to the two behind him, then set off alone, treading softly toward that still figure.
He moved slowly, alert to any sign of change.
Yet nothing unusual happened, even as he came to a stop directly behind Lina.
Shido Makoto stepped around her, looked at the door, then turned and beckoned to Shirogane Kei and the Artist.
Only then did the two carefully make their way over.
“This… whose room is this?” the Artist whispered.
The room’s furnishings were sparse: a bed, a wardrobe, a writing desk, and a single armchair beside the window.
A few landscape oil paintings hung on the walls, but no portraits of people.
Shido Makoto’s gaze fell on the writing desk.
On its surface lay another open diary.
Found it.
He walked over and picked up the diary, then turned to the first page.
[January 5th, Clear]
[People were whispering behind my back again today.
Their eyes are like slimy worms crawling all over my face—it makes me sick.
I want to gouge their eyeballs out!]
[Only in the young master’s presence do I feel a moment’s peace.
His eyes are clean.]
[January 20th, Overcast]
[Charles and Elizabeth are hosting another one of their hypocritical banquets.
They treat me as some rare curiosity, putting me on display before their so-called nobility to show off their magnanimity.
Looking at those self-important faces of theirs, all I want to do is retch.]
[The young master has no taste for such occasions.
He snuck away to my room, and together we stood behind the window watching those masked people dance their ridiculous dances.]
The first half of the diary was largely filled with Viktor’s self-loathing over his own appearance and his hatred of others’ stares—every line soaked in resentment toward the world.
The sole exception was the young master, the one person who treated him as an equal.
Shido Makoto continued turning the pages.
After the young master’s accidental death from a fall, the diary descended entirely into madness.
[June 11th, Heavy Rain]
[He’s dead…]
[It’s all their fault!
Their damned aristocratic upbringing!
The shackles they forced upon him!
They are the murderers!
They are sanctimonious devils!]
[I will make them pay!]
[June 15th, Overcast]
[Everything is ready.
I have sent Lina away for the time being—she should not be dragged into this.
A place this filthy doesn’t deserve someone as clean as her.]
[Tonight, let the fire purify all of it.]
[Please wait for me.
I’ll be… there with you soon…]
The diary ended there, abruptly.
The truth was now perfectly clear.
Viktor, blaming the master and mistress of the house for the young master’s death, had ultimately chosen to set the mansion ablaze—taking them all down with him.
“So… the malevolent spirit really is Viktor?” the Artist asked, not quite certain.
Shido Makoto and Shirogane Kei nodded simultaneously.
Shido Makoto’s gaze lingered on the first few pages of the diary for a few seconds.
An idea had begun to take shape in his mind—but it was too soon to confirm anything.
…
____
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🔥 New history: Samsara Game: