Chapter 020 - Moonlit Mirage 07
Under Nine’s and my leadership, the remaining players split into teams of three to five, cautiously combing through the floors in search of clues.
No. 9 studied me with an unreadable gaze, his expression measured. I feigned reluctance, exhaling as if I were making a difficult concession. “You’re older, and your legs aren’t as strong. Stay on the third floor and rest. There are plenty of people here, so it’s safe. We’ll come back for you later.”
His sharp eyes flickered, but after a brief pause, he let out a sigh and nodded in apparent agreement.
As the crowd dispersed, their footsteps muffled by the old wooden floors, I reached into the shadows and casually pulled down three hidden Thangkas, rolling them up with practiced ease. Without another word, I motioned for Elliot and No. 137 to follow, leading them toward the staircase.
Once we were alone on the second floor, No. 137 turned to me, puzzled. “Why didn’t we let the old man join our group?”
I scoffed. “That old man? He’s not as harmless as he looks.”
Elliot adjusted his glasses, glancing at the rolled Thangkas in my hand. “Because he kept staring at these three?”
I nodded. “The guy with the raspy voice—the one who just died—he was standing next to No. 9 when Yangjin came up. He was talking to him. No. 9 definitely instigated him to speak up.”
It was too convenient. No. 9 had been the first to step in and calm the crowd when I barely so much as raised an eyebrow. That kind of reflex? That came from experience. He was a scheming old fox, and if I’d learned anything, it was that people like him always had their own game running in the background.
“And he wasn’t just looking at the Thangkas,” I added. “He was eyeing Thangkas.”
No. 137 tilted her head. “Wait, are you saying these are—”
“Human-skin Thangkas,” I confirmed.
She stared at the rolled-up fabrics in my hands, her previous fear momentarily forgotten—until full realization struck. Her eyes widened. “Wait… bro, how did these suddenly become ?”
I shrugged. “I took them, so they’re mine.”
Elliot: “…”
No. 137: “…”
The second floor was structured much like the third, only larger. Towering mahogany bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, their surfaces coated in thick layers of dust. Ancient scrolls, tomes, and relics sat undisturbed, exuding an oppressive stillness.
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Scattered throughout the vast space, other players were already searching. As we wove between the bookshelves, I muttered under my breath, “Judging by the texture, it’s skin. Whether it’s sheepskin, cowhide, or human—I can’t say for sure. But let’s hold onto them for now. If Yangjin shows up, we hide. If we can’t hide, we hand over whatever leather items we find.”
They both nodded in understanding.
Our search continued. Among the artifacts, we uncovered a small rattle drum, a shawl made of an unidentifiable material, and a book so unnaturally smooth that it sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
Despite the thirty or so people combing through the space, the second floor still felt eerily vast, as if it stretched beyond physical limits.
Then, without warning—
An earsplitting drumbeat shattered the silence.
The sound exploded through the air, deafening and disorienting. It wasn’t just noise—it was . The vibrations crawled under my skin, shaking my ribs, forcing my heartbeat into unnatural rhythm with the pulsing sound. My breath hitched, my chest tightening.
Even the wooden structure itself seemed to groan in response, as if something ancient had just been stirred awake.
Across the room, Elliot, who had been flipping through a book near the window, suddenly froze. His hands trembled as he lifted his head. His voice came out in a breathless whisper.
“Sylas… the moon.”
No. 137 and I rushed to his side.
Outside, the night was an abyss—black as ink, void of stars. Only the moon remained, hanging in the sky like a single, solitary eye.
But something was wrong.
It wasn’t full anymore.
Something had
A slow, creeping realization coiled around my thoughts.
This game… it wasn’t just about surviving Yangjin.
There was a time limit.
If the moon vanished completely—
Would we all die, even without her hand?
I didn’t know how long we stood there, transfixed, but then—
Silence.
A weighted, suffocating silence.
We barely had time to exhale before it came again.
A sound. A rhythm.
A dull, steady .
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound of something—or —jumping.
It echoed down like a death knell, hammering into the walls, into our bones.
This time—
It came from the top floor.
