Everything was the same.

  No matter what I did, the path stayed locked in place. Would they even believe me if I tried to warn them again? The tiger. The banana being a kid. The puzzle. The key.

  I had changed nothing.

  Until we reached the same day.

  The day I died.

  With the bat.

  Tick. Tick.

  The sound of the clock drummed through the corridor, but Zhayne couldn’t hear it. His mind was too busy, racing through one thought—how to survive.

  A yellow hand waved in front of his unfocused face.

  Zhayne blinked, then looked at it. His eyes widened slightly, as if his vision had just snapped back into place.

  “Follow me,” the banana guy said before leaving the room.

  Zhayne glanced at him as he walked out, then looked back at the others. They were already distracted, focused on the snacks in their hands, chewing and laughing.

  He looked at them one last time, then stepped out and stopped in front of the door.

  The kid stood in front of Zhayne, the banana costume turned off and standing beside him.

  Zhayne’s head was turned toward the doorway when he suddenly shifted to face him.

  The kid grabbed Zhayne’s shoulders with his small hands. His brows pulled together into a frown.

  “Hey,” he said quietly. “Did you turn back time?”

  Zhayne let out a small, disbelieving smile and looked at him. The kid’s expression showed he was half-joking—but only half.

  Zhayne grabbed his hands and pulled him a little farther from the door so no one could eavesdrop.

  “How did you know?” Zhayne asked, confusion clear in his eyes.

  “How did I know? …So it was you.”

  The kid glanced down at the floor, his mind clearly somewhere else, one hand rubbing his head.

  “Did it really happen? Did I turn back time?”

  Zhayne asked, his eyes filled with curiosity.

  “No, of course not. That’s impossible, you dummy,” the kid said, laughing a short, static, like laugh.

  He raised his sleeve and opened his watch. It was red, shaped almost like a spinning top. He pressed a button, and a notification appeared on the screen.

  ATTENTION: A PLAYER HAS USED ALL PERMISSIBLE CARDS.

  Zhayne stared at it, his head tilting slightly.

  “Why did you use them… now that everyone kno—”

  The kid stopped mid-sentence.

  A scream ripped through the air.

  Zhayne instantly recognized the sound. He didn’t even glance at the kid beside him, his body moved on its own as he turned and rushed back into the room.

  Inside, everyone was already getting ready to go outside, voices overlapping in hurried confusion.

  Zhayne reached the door just in time, and stopped.

  Leon stood directly in front of him, frowning.

  “Zhayne, move,” he said, confused.

  “No,” Zhayne replied, his voice firm. “We cannot go outside.”

  “What? Why?” Leon whispered.

  He tried to shove Zhayne aside, but Zhayne pushed back slightly.

  “Leon, it’s not safe out there.”

  Leon scoffed and reached for the door anyway, pushing past him.

  Zhayne reacted instantly, stepping in front of him and grabbing his arm, stopping him cold.

  Leon spun back, eyes flashing.

  “What is wrong with you?” he yelled. “Since morning, you’ve been acting weird!”

  He fixed his clothes, gripping his injured shoulder. Others stepped in, holding Leon back, unable to understand what was happening, while Zhayne listened to the chaos outside, the sounds matching his memories perfectly.

  He looked at Leon.

  “Me?” Zhayne raised an eyebrow, his voice filled with confusion and anger.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  His hands started shaking. It felt as though the same ending was closing in on him again, and he had no idea what to do.

  Suddenly, he rushed forward, slamming Leon back against the wall, his hands gripping Leon’s collar tightly.

  “Me? Look who’s talking—acting like you’re not the reason we’re here!”

  Jayson frowned and tried to pull Zhayne off Leon, but failed.

  Zhayne pushed his shoulder harder. Leon was sweating now, his eyes locked onto Zhayne’s.

  “If you hadn’t stopped me from telling them about the blood in the elevator—if you hadn’t twisted your ankle—we wouldn’t be here!”

  Zhayne screamed the words, fast and furious, but his voice broke at the last sentence, dropping low and shaky.

  Then he froze.

  Slowly, he realized what he was doing.

  His hands loosened, slipping from Leon’s collar.

  Jayson stepped in immediately, placing a hand on Zhayne’s shoulder to steady him.

  Zhayne sat on the bed and looked down at the floor, his hair hiding his eyes.

  “We won’t go out,” Vincent said firmly, pointing toward the door, then gesturing at Zhayne.

  “Not until he thinks it’s safe.”

  Everyone sat on one side of the room. Leon sat alone on the other, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

  Rafeal sat beside Zhayne, patting his back gently.

  “Go wash your face,” he whispered.

  Zhayne gave him a faint smile and headed to the restroom. He turned on the water and leaned forward, placing his head under it, trying to think.

  He didn’t hear the knocking outside.

  Jayson glanced around, then stood and checked the peephole.

  A black eye was already staring back.

  “Woo—! You scared me!” Jayson jumped backward.

  After catching his breath, he leaned in again.

  It was Saymon.

  “Hey,” Saymon said with an awkward smile, brushing the back of his head.

  “Hello, Spikey,” Jayson replied. “What are you doing here?”

  “Straight to the point, aren’t you?” Saymon smiled again.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Sure. Go ahead,” Jayson said.

  “Really?” Saymon’s smile widened. “You won’t open the door? I am your guest, aren’t I?”

  His smile slowly faded, his eyes locking onto Jayson through the peephole, as if he were standing right in front of him.

  “I’m sorry, but it seems like I can’t open the door right now,” Jayson said slowly.

  He glanced at Saymon’s stiff expression one last time, unease tightening in his chest as his eyes flicked to the axe in Saymon’s hands. Then he let his weight rest against the door and slid down until he was seated on the floor. The wood was cold through his shirt

  “Then I’ll see you next time,” Saymon replied.

  The silence that followed stretched—too long, too empty.

  Jayson didn’t move at first. When he finally forced himself up and leaned toward the peephole, the corridor outside was empty.

  Saymon was gone.

  A hand suddenly patted Jayson’s shoulder.

  “WHOO—!” Jayson screamed, spinning around.

  It was Vincent.

  “Didn’t we say we wouldn’t go out?” Vincent asked calmly.

  “Y-yes. Yes, we did,” Jayson nodded twice, fast.

  “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Zhayne emerged from the bathroom, his hair wet and brushed back, droplets still clinging to his forehead. He looked focused and determined.

  “Go where?” Jayson asked loudly—then lowered his voice at the end of the sentence.

  “To look for clues,” Zhayne said. “I’m sure we all want to finish this game and go back.”

  His eyes flicked toward Leon.

  “No. I’m not going outside,” Jayson said, stepping forward and gesturing at the door. “Didn’t you just say it’s dangerous?”

  “Jayson, If you do want to go back,” Vincent said, crossing his arms, “we have two choices. Either we go with Zhayne, or—”

  Jayson’s face relaxed slightly.

  “—we kill the NPC,” Vincent finished, leaning closer and whispering into Jayson’s ear. “Which I don’t think we have the skill for yet.”

  Jayson swallowed.

  “…Fine,” he whispered back.

  Suddenly, the door flew open—and slammed shut just as fast.

  It was the kid.

  The costume was gone. He was panting, blood smeared across his face and clothes.

  Jayson had already jumped away from the door.

  Everyone stepped back—except Zhayne.

  Jayson held a chair defensively, gripping it tightly as the kid stood there, bloodied and panting.

  Leon stepped forward, eyes narrowed.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, putting himself between the kid and the others.

  Zhayne moved closer, cupping the kid’s face and gently wiping the blood away. His expression was full of worry.

  “What happened?” he asked softly.

  “Nothing happened,” the kid said, pushing Zhayne’s hands away. When he couldn’t, Zhayne finally let go.

  “Who did this to you?” Zhayne asked again, but the kid remained silent.

  Jayson, who had been holding the chair nearby, lowered it and stepped closer.

  “Is that you… Banana?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

  The kid blinked, confusion written across his face.

  “Yes… it’s me,” he said slowly, then added with urgency, “We need to leave. That guy is following me.”

  He opened the door again.

  Zhayne glanced back at the others. One by one, they nodded.

  They ran.

  As they rushed through the corridor, Zhayne caught a flash of someone ahead—a girl.

  Lucy.

  She was holding a bottle of glue.

  They ran as fast as they could until they reached a room with a heavy door lined with black cage bars.

  Jayson turned to the kid as they reached the door.

  “It was Saymon who did it, wasn’t he?” he blurted out, the words coming too fast.

  The kid nodded, eyes wide and tense.

  “Saymon?” Rafael asked, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open. “Are you sure? Why would he do that?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Jayson said quickly. “Let’s just go inside.”

  He pushed the door open and stepped in first. Leon followed, holding the door open so the rest of them could enter.

  It was the animal holding room.

  Cages lined the space—far apart from one another. A monkey. A tiger. A rabbit. Each enclosed separately. Nearby were boxes with animal names and food types written on them, along with scattered toys and trash across the floor.

  Wooden crates lay overturned everywhere.

  The kid sat on one of them.

  “Look around,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll find something useful.”

  Everyone nodded and began searching.

  “It couldn’t get any better,” Rafael muttered. “Getting ordered around by a kid.”

  Jayson searched through the animal food packets, and peeled a banana, eating it while he looked.

  As he worked, he tossed another banana toward the kid.

  “Hey, kid, what’s your name?” he asked casually.

  “None of your business,” the kid replied, peeling the banana as he spoke.

  “I’ll stick to calling you Banana then,” Jayson said with a small shrug.

  “How did you even know I was in that costume?” the kid asked, glancing at him. Jayson didn’t reply.

  Leon and Zhayne searched the wooden boxes. Vincent checked near the cages.

  Leon glanced up. “Was Saymon the one who knocked earlier?” he asked quietly.

  Jayson opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, Vincent called out suddenly,

  “Hey! I found something.”

  Jayson froze mid-word and turned toward Vincent.

  Everyone gathered around.

  He was pointing at a small navy-blue notebook, coated in dust, lying inside the tiger’s cage near the edge.

  They exchanged glances.

  Leon picked up a wooden cat-toy stick and carefully pushed the notebook out without waking the tiger. Once he had it, they backed away and returned to the kid.

  “What does it say?” the kid asked, still seated.

  Leon opened it.

  The pages were smudged, as if water had spilled on them and dried. Most of the words were unreadable.

  “Can you read anything?” Vincent asked.

  “I’ll try,” Leon said, raising his eyebrows.

  He flipped through, then stopped.

  “This one’s partially readable,” he said. “It looks like a diary.”

  He read aloud:

  Today was another successful day. They all laughed at me—which proves my success… Now I know he will never reach me, never be close to my level. I hope there’s a day when … realizes it too.

  “There’s a date,” Leon added. “August 18, 2008.”

  “Who will realize?” Jayson asked.

  “I don’t know,” Leon replied. “The ink ain’t clear, it’s all smeared.”

  He turned more pages—but most were ruined.

  Only a few words stood out on different pages:

  Hide. Performance. Brother.

  And one name—clear and unmistakable.

  “Lucy.”

  “Look,” Leon said, pointing.

  “Do you think this diary belongs to someone from the crew?” Jayson asked.

  “Or maybe Lucy herself,” Rafael suggested.

  “Who writes their own name in their diary?” Vincent said.

  Rafael nudged his shoulder.

  “…You’re right,” Jayson admitted, rubbing his chin.

  Zhayne stepped closer.

  “This diary most likely belongs to the clown.”

  Leon looked up.

  “All the dates are all from 2008,” Zhayne said, his voice low and fast. “Nearly every page. Who would visit the circus that often? And each page repeats words like ‘circus,’ ‘performance,’ and similar terms. Judging by the handwriting and what we saw on the calendar, it was written when the clown was still young.”

  “I still think it’s from someone on the crew,” Jayson said, leaning closer.

  “What crew?” Rafael snapped. “Did you see anyone here besides those creepy twins?”

  Jayson glared at Rafael, then shifted his gaze back to the diary.

  “Do you think he was bullied?” jayson asked quietly.

  “Maybe,” Vincent said. “Or he meant they were laughing at his show. He did say it was a successful day.”

  Leon frowned.

  “What if it was written by someone and hidden here to confuse us?”

  The kid shook his head.

  “That’s unlikely. The game clues usually start appearing more often in the last days.”

  “Let’s head back to the room for now,” Zhayne said. “We’ve already searched everything here.”

  But before they could move, the metal bars of a door slammed open. They swung shut again with a loud clang.

  It was Clara. She clutched her chest, she froze when she saw them. Then her face softened.

  “It’s you guys,” she said, signing in relief.

  Jayson rushed forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes searched her face for any sign of injury or shock.

  “Did Saymon attack you too?” he asked, sweat forming on his forehead as worry crept into his voice.

  Clara whispered something he couldn’t catch, then finally spoke aloud in a tired voice:

  “Yes.”

  “He tried to kill me,” she continued, words spilling faster and faster. “But I dodged, and I kept running, running, until I reached here.”

  Jayson grabbed a banana from the bunch nearby and handed it to her to calm her down.

  They all stood in front of her, keeping their distance. Zhayne remained beside the kid, who suddenly clutched at Zhayne’s clothes. His grip was tight, and his expression was unreadable.

  Zhayne’s eyes flicked toward the kid, then back to Clara. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, his shadow falling over her. His gaze was sharp, dark, unyielding as he studied her face.

  “But you don’t seem out of breath,” he said quietly, his voice low and tense. “Were you really running?”