"Click!"
The sound of the rusted brass lock snapping open echoed through the room, now flooded with warm golden light from the open window.
For a moment, I felt relief.
A sense that I had found the answer.
Lilia, standing beside me with a soft, innocent smile after witnessing the sunlight and the destruction of that cursed porcelain doll, slowly stepped toward the box.
She wasn't crying anymore.
Her large brown eyes were fixed on it with curiosity and anticipation—as if she expected to find something precious she had lost long ago.
Is this it…? The core… the key to escape?
Lilia knelt down and reached her small hand toward the lid of the old wooden box.
She hesitated for a moment… then, with that same innocence that made me trust her, she slowly lifted it.
She looked inside with a smile—
which instantly twisted into disgust.
"Th-this…!"
What I saw inside… made my blood run cold.
There was no treasure.
No restored doll.
Nothing that could bring a child happiness.
At the bottom of the box, resting on faded red velvet cloth…
…were severed human fingers.
Five small fingers—perhaps belonging to a child or a woman—arranged neatly.
They were still bleeding, thick dark-red blood staining the velvet and filling the air with a faint, sickening metallic-sweet stench of iron and decay.
"W-What the hell is this…?!" I muttered in shock, stumbling back a step as my stomach churned violently.
Damn it… I feel like I'm going to throw up…
Severed fingers? Is this the secret she feared… or forgot?
But Lilia…
…didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She showed no sign of fear or disgust.
Instead, she looked at the bleeding fingers… then slowly raised her head toward me.
"Hehe…"
And on her lips…
…a smile formed.
It was still childish. Still innocent.
But now… it felt completely wrong.
A single tear slid down her pale cheek.
Not a tear of sadness.
Not of joy.
It was… empty. Like glass.
"Thank you, Adam," she said in her childlike voice—
but something in her tone had changed. Something that made every hair on my body stand on end.
"This… this is the last remaining part of my parents' bodies."
She looked at me with that same innocent yet horrifying smile.
"The ones… I killed myself. Piece by piece."
Then her voice shifted—deeper, more mature.
"I remember now. Thank you… for helping me unlock my memories."
In that moment, I felt the world collapse around me.
"Tssssss!!!"
The warm golden sunlight filling the room began to dim rapidly—twisting into a disturbing, blood-red glow.
The room itself began to distort.
The pale pink wallpaper became stained with dark patches resembling dried blood.
Its patterns twisted into silent screaming faces.
"Crack!!"
The old furniture groaned and splintered as if on the verge of collapse.
I looked around in panic, trying to understand.
What does this mean?!
My eyes fell on a dark corner of the room—
And there…
…lay a man I had never seen before.
His body twisted unnaturally on the floor.
A horrifying bullet hole pierced his head, blood pooling beneath him.
W-Who is that?!
I snapped my gaze back to Lilia.
She was still standing before the open box.
But her innocent smile was gone.
In its place… a calm, empty expression.
Her large brown eyes were now fixed on me.
And in her small hand…
…was a black object.
A heavy, glossy black shape—
—perfectly aimed at my chest.
A gun? Where did—
"KYAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
A sudden, piercing scream—coming from behind me—shattered the warped silence.
I turned in shock, my heart nearly stopping.
The window—where sunlight had poured in moments ago—
…was no longer filled with light.
It now opened into pitch-black night.
A massive, blood-red moon loomed in a starless sky.
And there—standing within that darkness—
…was a woman.
Beautiful.
Resembling Lilia—but older.
Her face was filled with horror and disbelief.
She was staring at me—
—or perhaps at Lilia, now standing behind me with the gun aimed forward.
"BOOM!!!"
Before I could react—
A flash.
A bullet tore through the woman's chest.
"W-Why…?" she whispered, blood bursting from the wound, her glassy eyes locked onto Lilia in shock.
Then slowly…
She collapsed.
"Thud."
I couldn't believe it.
Lilia…
That innocent, sorrowful child…
…had just shot her own mother.
"Fwoosh!"
Then suddenly—
Darkness swallowed everything.
The red moon.
The man's corpse.
The fallen woman.
Even Lilia with her gun—
All vanished.
Nothing remained.
Only pitch-black darkness.
Absolute silence.
And a faint metallic scent…
What the hell… just happened?
---
"Well…"
Noor Akim and Sam Owens moved like small ghosts through the long, dark corridor—careful, hesitant.
Each of them scanned the walls, the floor, the ceiling with tense eyes.
I had sent them on a task—finding a way to activate the elevator.
Deep down, I knew the chances of them finding an emergency exit or hidden mechanism in this cursed place were almost nonexistent.
But I had to maintain my image as a team leader.
I had to give them a goal—even if it was an illusion.
I turned toward the empty painting that had swallowed Adam.
It was still just a pale, lifeless canvas. No trace of what had happened.
I touched its old wooden frame carefully, feeling a strange cold seep into my fingers.
"Are you in there, Lester?" I whispered.
How would I face his father… if I lost a team member on my very first mission?
"..."
No response.
Then I moved to the painting of the crying girl.
She was still weeping blood, her hand pointing toward the empty space where Adam's painting had been.
I stood there for a long time, studying every detail—searching for any change, any clue.
"What do you want?" I whispered, feeling foolish.
"Did you take him? Can you bring him back?"
Silence.
Only her pale face.
Blood tears.
Endless sorrow.
Pain surged through my torn arm, dizziness creeping in.
I ignored it.
I couldn't afford to weaken now.
I looked back at Adam's empty painting.
Then hers.
Then the others—distorted reflections of us… now far more grotesque.
My painted face had begun peeling, exposing gray bone beneath.
Noor's eyes had turned completely black—voids.
Sam's smile stretched unnaturally wide, revealing rows of sharp, inhuman fangs.
This place… it's made of negative emotions, I thought, a chill running down my spine.
The longer we stay… the closer we get to becoming like them.
Time dragged on—slow, suffocating.
Every minute felt like an eternity.
I moved between the paintings, analyzing, searching—
Nothing.
My mind—usually sharp—felt dull, exhausted under the pain and the incomprehensible nature of this place.
"Click… click…"
Footsteps.
I turned bitterly.
Noor and Sam were returning—their steps heavy.
"Did you find anything?" I asked, trying to hide my frustration.
Noor shook her head, her face pale and dusty.
"Nothing, leader. Absolutely nothing. This corridor… it feels endless. We found side passages, but they were all blocked or led to empty rooms like this… There's no exit. No mechanism. Not even a clue."
"And the paintings…" Sam added quietly, his voice trembling.
"They're getting worse… It's like… they're about to come out of their frames."
I looked at the distorted paintings.
He was right.
They felt… alive.
Threatening.
One hour… I thought, glancing at the Cardinal device on my wrist.
[69:23]
A full hour in this hell. No progress. And Adam… still missing.
A wave of cold despair washed over me.
We were completely stuck.
Rats in a maze with no exit.
Adam… I'm sorry, I whispered inwardly.
I'm going to leave you… I failed as a leader… and as a teammate.
I was about to suggest returning to the elevator—
When my eyes fell again on the crying girl's painting.
Unchanged.
Still pointing.
Still sorrowful.
There has to be something… anything.
There is no puzzle without a solution.
Why was she the only one unchanged?
Why was she still pointing toward Adam's place?
Was she trying to tell us something?
After exhausting every logical option my mind could produce…
I made a decision.
A reckless one.
Perhaps foolish.
Perhaps pointless.
But I had nothing left.
"I'm going back to that painting," I said calmly, pointing at the crying girl.
"There has to be something in it. There has to be."
Noor and Sam looked at me with concern.
"But Leo… you already tried. It didn't respond."
"I'll try again," I said firmly, though I had no real plan.
"Maybe… I missed something. Or maybe… I need to ask the right question."
I stepped forward and stood before the painting.
I looked at her innocent face… crying blood… her small hand pointing into nothingness.
What do you want from us? I shouted in my mind.
What's your secret? Why are you crying blood?
I didn't expect an answer.
I was about to turn away—
"Damn you… you little bitch!!"
And in that moment—
I heard a voice.
An angry voice.