Deceitful Game

Chapter 168 Cycle

Chapter 168 Cycle

"—Is anyone there?"

Upon hearing the melodious piano music, Mingpo had this thought in her mind.

But he soon rejected it himself.

Because the music didn't start just as Mingpo opened the door.

The music had already played for about a third of the way, but Mingpo outside hadn't heard anything.

But when you open the door, it's like pressing play, and music starts flowing out.

The music brought peace to Mingper.

He slowly stepped forward and entered the annex.

The entryway is covered with a soft, thick carpet. Walking in is almost silent, like walking on cotton.

Mingpo didn't even dare to imagine—with such a thick layer of dust, how filthy must this carpet be? It would probably stomp on one's foot and create a visible "storm."

Perhaps it was because the air was stirred up the moment the door was opened.

The moment Mingpo stepped inside, a chill mixed with a slight musty smell hit her face. And even more chill crept up her trouser legs.

The temperature there was four or five degrees lower than in the forest.

White mist was rhythmically exhaled from Mingpo's mouth with each breath.

Mingpo frowned slightly and gently waved her hand in the air. The sunlight streaming in from the doorway made the dust floating in the air clearly visible, which Mingpo then swatted away.

But then, Mingpo realized something was wrong—

The dust seemed to be fixed in space. Just as he swatted it away, it returned to its original position after he withdrew his hand.

Mingpo stopped, held her breath, and stood at the doorway to observe carefully.

When the air currents stirred up by his long trench coat completely dissipated, Mingpo clearly saw that the dust was not just drifting randomly in the air, but was fixed in the void.

It's as if time here has been paused.

"That's interesting—"

Mingpo smiled slightly and walked into the house.

The only thing that bothered him was that he didn't have a flashlight.

—Although he didn't bring one, in the game's lore, his role is supposed to be a detective, right? Why wouldn't a detective carry a flashlight? Shouldn't there be a spare one in the car?

Surprisingly, however, there was electricity inside the house.

Mingpo reached out and pressed the light switch in the entryway.

After flickering twice, the light slowly brightened. A full half-second passed between the faint glow and the bright light.

This is likely due to—circuit aging? Or something else?

Mingpo didn't say anything more, and just continued walking forward.

The path to the second floor was blocked by wooden crates. It wasn't that they couldn't be moved, but it seemed that they didn't really want Mingpo to get through.

So Mingpo followed the guidance and went to the other rooms.

Or perhaps he didn't actually have any other rooms to go to.

All the doors in the house were closed.

Mingpo originally intended to kick them away—but as soon as his hand touched the handle, a line of words appeared:

[Cannot be opened]

Mingpo paused for a moment, then without hesitation kicked him three times in a row.

I don't spoil them at all.

A dull sound rang out like thunder.

But after three kicks, the flimsy old wooden door didn't react at all.

Mingpo reached out and touched it again, and another line of words appeared on it:

[It seemed to be fixed to space, completely still]

"Okay, okay, okay—"

Mingpo was at a loss.

It seems that although the "detective's" abilities have been weakened, they haven't disappeared.

Mingpo can still "see" some of the more crucial things.

—In fact, the fact that "only key information" can be shown as a notification might actually be considered an optimization.

Furthermore, if the door here can't be kicked open by himself, doesn't that prove that the door in the game "Terror Live" can be forcibly broken by him, which is just a rule of the game?

Thinking this way, Mingpo became even more confident.

This means that trying to break the deadlock using brute force will not be punished by the deceptive game!

Because when violence is truly forbidden, it's simply impossible to even do it.

Mingbo followed the only path forward.

After walking through a corridor lined with portraits, we entered the main hall.

"I have a bad feeling."

Mingpo quipped, "It's not going to be Layers of Fear or PT, is it?"

The music continued to play, and Mingpo still walked without making any sound.

Every time Mingpo entered a new room, he would turn on the light.

He admired the hall.

In the very center of the hall stands a harpsichord.

A group photo hangs on the wall opposite the piano, its glass frame cracked in three places. Below the photo is a small reception table with an exquisite porcelain tea set and a strange ornament on it, next to two rocking chairs.

The table and tea set were covered with a thick layer of dust.

But that one ornament was spotless, as if it had been cleaned and wiped down every day.

One of them is a Russian nesting doll with a Dharma theme.

Mingpo picked it up, but no intelligence popped up.

However, Mingpo didn't mind and simply opened the matryoshka doll with great interest.

The outermost layer is a red Daruma doll, inside is a white Daruma doll, and then another red Daruma doll—after opening layer after layer, inside the white Daruma doll, which is only about the size of an egg, is a ruby ​​ring.

It was a gold ring with a ruby ​​set in it, weighing about five carats.

"————Wow."

Mingpo sighed, "Rich people, huh?"

Although I was aware of this beforehand—after all, this annex is quite large. Because part of it is located in the mountains, its true size is not apparent from the outside.

But a five-carat ruby—

If it is an unheated natural gemstone, then the price of this gemstone is already more expensive than the gold that holds it.

Mingbo picked up the ring, and her "detective" powers finally manifested: [They had made a vow of love.]

The ring's name didn't pop up, nor did it display anything like "ruby ring." Instead, more information appeared directly.

Mingpo looked up at the half of the group photo on the table.

The glass surrounding the group photo cracked, losing its protection for the picture inside. The largest crack stretched from the twelve o'clock position to the five o'clock position, and that part of the photo was torn off.

In the remaining section, on the far left is a man wearing a kimono and round-framed glasses, who looks to be in his thirties.

He was wearing a black and white patterned haori hakama.

This is clothing that Japanese people wear on formal occasions—such as weddings or funerals.

To his left is a woman also wearing a kimono. However, about a third of the photo has been torn off at an angle, so only her hands are visible folded in front of her; everything above her hands is missing. Therefore, her face and specific clothing are not visible.

Between the two of them was a little girl wearing a dress.

She wasn't wearing a kimono, but a typical Western-style dress. The pure white short dress had lace trim, making it look like a flower.

She held a golden trophy in her hands, and the corners of her mouth were turned up as if she were smiling.

However, because the photo had three cracks, one of the shallowest cracks went right through the girl's head, her eyes were not visible.

From the three cracks in the glass, one of them clearly shows a thin, dry, dark brown mark.

That wasn't dust, it was blood. Blood that had seeped in from the outside.

Mingpo squinted, her pupils emitting a faint yellowish hue.

In his imagination, he began to conceive of what kind of position, what kind of situation, would allow blood to seep in deeply, yet not in large quantities.

The bloodstains were right next to the bottom edge of the picture frame, right where the little girl's shoes were.

Someone must have touched the broken glass and cut their finger. But this spot is right below the group photo.

Perhaps because Mingpo was so tall, he even had to crouch down to see the bloodstains. Mingpo gestured.

He discovered that even very short people would find it difficult to touch the bottom edge of the picture frame in this posture. The wrist needs to be turned outwards.

If it were just a light touch and a finger was cut, the blood wouldn't have seeped this deep. And blood should flow downwards—but the line of blood that seeped in, like a red sock, spread across the little girl's leg. This means the blood was flowing upwards.

Could it be that this picture frame is hung upside down?

wrong.

Mingpo immediately realized it.

The picture frame fell and shattered. Someone tried to pick it up, but didn't realize it was broken. He pressed his hand against the shards of glass, and blood seeped in. Because he was holding the frame upside down, the blood flowed upwards due to gravity.

Mingpo casually put the ring into his pocket.

He turned and walked towards the piano opposite him.

"Steinway—"

Mingpo murmured softly, "As expected."

The expensive piano has long been eroded by time; the white keys are blackened and the black keys are yellowed. It looks like it has been soaked in water and then dried, or like an old photograph with a faded yellow hue.

Mingpo sensed something and crouched down.

There was a strange crack on the side of the instrument, as if it had been chopped by an axe. Mingpo reached in and found a clump of dry, thread-like hair.

—Human hair?

Mingpo frowned slightly.

He didn't know much about forensic medicine, so he wasn't sure if it was a black line, a strand of hair, or some other animal's fur. He only felt that it was incredibly thin, soft, and brittle.

Although there was no prompt, Mingpo still pulled out the "hair," wrapped it around the ring, and put it in her pocket.

After doing all this, Mingpo sat down at the piano.

He closed his eyes and listened to the music.

Following her instincts, Mingpo tried to press the piano keys.

Perhaps he should tune the piano to match the music he hears?

Based on Mingper's "experience with puzzle games," he felt that the piano music that kept ringing in his ears must be related to this piano.

But when Mingpo struck the first key, a strong dissonance was produced.

-when."

An unpleasant sound rang out.

In that instant, the piano music in Mingpo's ears suddenly disappeared.

Mingbo remained unmoved.

He slowly played the music from memory, but even this incredibly expensive piano failed to produce a pleasant sound.

After all, this piano hadn't been tuned for many years, and its pitch was shockingly off.

But when Mingpo's fingers touched the center C key on the piano—

Mingpo suddenly felt a darkness before her eyes.

The chair beneath him seemed to vanish, and Mingpo was caught off guard and fell backward.

Fortunately, the carpet was soft enough that Mingbo was not injured at all.

But when he got up again, he found himself not in the hall.

He appeared at the entrance of the Lingyin Villa, but the door behind him, which he hadn't closed, had been shut by someone.

And then the melodious sound of the piano rang out again.

Everything has come full circle.

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