By any standard, anyone who had heard the nursery rhyme—even if they didn't overthink it—should at least avoid doing what the lyrics explicitly warned against.
But the woman still asked an extra question.
Back in the Void, the ghostfire had told Xie Mingchi: if a puppeteer died in the Guijie (the Puppet Realm), all the realms they had entered would reset, their ghost puppet would perish, and they'd lose part of their remaining lifespan.
Though puppeteers were never expected to live long anyway, there was still a chance—choose another ghost puppet, re-enter the Guijie, start over.
But if the ghost puppet died in the Guijie, it was true death—soul utterly annihilated. The puppeteer's fate was directly tied to the ghost puppet's life.
So, even though the person scheduled to die in the game was the fourth, the first was still terrified—because the fourth was her puppeteer. If he died, she would too.
Xie Mingchi caught on. Wan Wuqiu nodded in agreement. "So, two died last night."
Xie was quiet for a moment. "What about the bodies?"
"We'll see them tomorrow," Wan replied, eyes shifting toward the hallway where the fourth person had vanished. "Only during the day can we find more clues. For now, staying alive is what matters. Death in the Guijie means death in reality."
"Got it," Xie nodded. "Let's go back."
Back in the room, He Qi and Shen Feinian were still asleep, undisturbed. Though Xie lay down again, sleep was elusive.
There had been paranormal incidents in his twenty-four years of life, but never anything fatal. Looking back, those events seemed more like a prelude, a build-up preparing him to enter the Guijie.
Like he was meant for it.
His thoughts tangled through the night, until sleep finally claimed him at dawn.
But he wasn't the only one awake.
After confirming Xie's steady breathing, Wan Wuqiu turned and stared at Shen Feinian across the room.
There was a sharp, unfamiliar coldness in his gaze—something Xie Mingchi had never seen before.
…
When Xie woke, sunlight already flooded the room. He blinked blearily at the wall clock. 7:04 a.m.
The others were still sound asleep, but Xie knew he wouldn't be falling back asleep, so he rolled out of bed and went to wash up.
Cold water on his face was the first thing that made him feel alive. The sink was oddly short—Xie had to bend quite far.
Not just the sink. All the furnishings here seemed... scaled down.
Maybe this room was originally a child's.
When he came out, Wan Wuqiu was already sitting up. He nodded, "Morning."
"Morning. Go wash up."
Wan obliged, and while he was in the bathroom, Xie turned to the still-snoring He Qi and finally gave him a shove.
"Ungh…" He Qi groaned, still dazed. He cracked his eyes open halfway. "Bro? You're up? What time is it?"
Xie gestured to the wall clock. "Did you hear anything last night?"
"Hear? What?" He Qi blinked. "I slept straight through. Didn't even dream... Which is weird. I usually have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar beds."
Which was exactly why this was disturbing. Xie had assumed He Qi would have trouble sleeping. But something—something about this house or the realm—had knocked him out cold.
Shen Feinian was the last to "wake up." After opening his eyes, he yawned lazily and smiled. "Ah, you're all up. Sorry, I overslept."
Xie: "…"
Was he the only one who didn't sleep through the night?
But there wasn't time to dwell on it. A knock came at the door.
"Good morning," a butler's voice chimed. "Breakfast is ready. Mr. Du is waiting in the dining room."
He only said it once, then moved to the next room. The knock and wording were identical. Like a pre-programmed recording.
"Let's eat," Wan clapped Xie's shoulder. "Even here, we burn energy. You don't eat, you die."
Xie believed it. He'd been hungry since almost falling asleep around dawn.
When the four exited their room, they found many others had emerged as well. But none had gone downstairs. They lingered, hesitant.
The hesitation wasn't just because of the rule the butler had mentioned.
There was also the thick, metallic scent of blood in the air—and a long, winding bloodstain on the carpet, already darkening to brown.
It was easy to imagine: someone had been killed in this hallway. Their body dragged by... something... disappearing somewhere unseen.
The thought alone was nauseating.
Xie remembered he'd stood in the northeast corner last night. The bloody hallway was the one the first person had taken to find Wan Wuqiu.
So, it was likely the woman's blood.
"What happened? Did someone die?"
"I didn't hear a thing last night."
"Same. I slept like a rock."
Without exception, everyone except Xie and Wan had slept through the night. None of them heard the hour-long nursery rhyme. None saw the children. None knew about the Four Corners Game.
Which only made Xie more uneasy.
"Let's go. If they're not eating, we still are." Wan led the way to a staircase and motioned the others to follow.
The second Wan stepped on the stairs, the crowd fell silent, eyes locking onto him.
The rule about stairs was vague. People were watching to see if he would be punished.
But Xie had figured out last night that the stairs from the fourth to third floor were safe. He didn't hesitate long before following.
Then He Qi. Then Shen Feinian.
When the four of them made it down unharmed, the rest cautiously followed.
The third floor had a similar layout: three sides of rooms, the west side a large dining room.
One key difference—some room doors here had keys inserted. Some didn't. Whereas all the fourth floor rooms had visible keys.
They didn't explore. Wan led them straight into the dining room.
It was huge, but sparse. Aside from a massive dining table in the center, very few furnishings or decorations.
Seated at the head was a man.
Middle-aged, receding hairline, smile fixed like plaster. His eyes never left Wan and Xie as they entered—his head still, pupils swiveling robotically.
Xie didn't dare touch the food. It looked delicious, but if this man was the gatekeeper ghost of this realm—its creator—then any misstep could be fatal.
Soon, everyone was seated.
Du, the host, scanned the table. His eyes paused on He Qi.
Then he spoke, smiling. "Welcome to my home, friends. I know you're curious about the wealth I've built. You'll have one week to explore. I hope you enjoy your stay."
Xie didn't feel like "enjoy" was the right word.
That voice—he recognized it.
It was the same voice he'd heard last night. That sigh in the hallway.
A sigh for what? Disappointment that only one died?
"Some rules were already explained by my staff," Du continued. "I won't repeat them. I'm a busy man, so feel free to explore."
Xie caught the phrase "some rules."
Meaning there were others—hidden, waiting to be discovered the hard way.
"I love games. But my favorite ones are only played at night," Du's smile deepened. "Some of you played already... I look forward to tonight's."
Yeah. That meant Xie and Wan. The unlucky pair.
But no one else at the table knew a game had happened. Du's words only deepened their fear.
After speaking, Du ignored their responses and began to eat.
His knife movements were expert—every slice of steak clean, precise. Xie watched warily.
Then Wan started eating too.
Seeing them dig in, others followed suit. Only then did Xie begin eating.
The food was genuinely good. But the taste was dulled by thoughts of last night's deaths.
"Eat first. Don't overthink while eating," Wan said quietly. He smiled. "Bad habit."
"Oh." Xie mumbled. But internally: Who the hell asked you?
Du finished first and left, not via the visible stairs. No one knew which floor he'd gone to.
And none of the others at the table moved, regardless of whether they'd finished.
Finally, someone broke the silence. "We're missing two people. A puppeteer and their ghost puppet."
Xie looked. It was that sharp-tongued woman from yesterday—Xiao Xiao.
Experienced, clearly. Likely trying to figure out how they died, since no one had heard anything.
Xie counted. 12 people now. If two had died, that made 14 originally.
An even number. Which gave the illusion everyone had their ghost puppets with them.
Xiao Xiao continued, "We only saw blood. No bodies." Her gaze lingered on Xie's group, faintly disdainful. "For those of you too new to know—bodies don't vanish. They were moved. I asked the butler yesterday: the mansion is sealed during the tour. So they're still inside."
Another person chimed in: "If we find the bodies, maybe we'll find the cause of death. The rules."
Xie whispered to Wan, "Does someone always die at night?"
"Not always," Wan said. "But at least one, usually. If no one triggers a condition, the gatekeeper might loosen the rules. Make it easier to die."
In other words: more danger for everyone. More chances to screw up.
He added, "One more thing—whoever collects the gatekeeper's soul thread will see two of their beads turn gold."
A random detail? No. Xie understood.
Golden beads represented realms cleared—and increased lifespan. Every puppeteer wanted those.
So if someone figured out a death condition, they might keep it secret. Let others die. Increase their own odds.
Goddamn tacit understanding between roommates.
But it was risky. Unless you were strong enough to find the soul thread alone, group cooperation was safer.
Xiao Xiao was clearly a team-player type.
She nodded. "Daytime is safe. We should look for the bodies. Also, that 'game' Du mentioned—did any of us play last night?"
Xie was about to speak, but Wan beat him to it. "Yes. Me," he said, glancing at Xie. "And him."