Though Green was still trying hard to play the obedient lackey, even he couldn't help trembling a little at the sight of the body. Yet he soon noticed that Kaguya showed not the slightest reaction to the corpse beneath the bed, and Takumi too, expressionless, calmly lifted the sheet and crouched closer to examine it. Even Maki, standing a little farther away, remained perfectly composed. Despite all three of them looking under 20 years old, they were clearly the calmest people here.
As expected—these three must all have gone through at least one previous horror game. They were veteran players with real experience.
If he just followed them, did everything he could to be useful, and kept these big shots pleased, he'd definitely survive this game.
Yes, as long as he could live through this damn game, even if they told him to go lick a toilet bowl right now, he'd do it without complaint. Besides, these three didn't seem that hard to get along with—so long as he didn't get in their way and could lend a little help, Green would surely make it through this round alive!
Leaving that smug fool aside, Takumi's attention was now fully fixed on the corpse before him.
The blonde woman's earlier fit of screaming that triggered the boss-level death event had probably happened because she'd seen this body.
Unlike the frozen one inside the refrigerator of Room 208, this female corpse looked freshly dead. Her eyes were closed, her lips faintly blackened, her face slightly swollen. She wore gray sleepwear with a loose collar that covered her neck, and the fingers protruding from her sleeves had a bluish-purple hue. At the lower part of her pajama pants, there was a visible dark yellow stain, along with a faint stench that was nearly dissipated.
Takumi already had a rough idea of how she might have died. But some details still needed checking—whether there were marks on her neck, whether the skin showed peeling, or if there were any scratches or cuts.
[Be careful of the corpse]
However, he couldn't help recalling Tanaka's warning before leaving.
Was this the person who had died in this room?
What had killed her? And where was that thing now?
Takumi turned his head, sweeping his gaze across the general layout of the room.
In the dim light, the interior appeared a bit blurry, yet that didn't stop him from grasping the arrangement well enough to confirm there wasn't any space for something to hide—assuming, of course, that the thing even had a physical body.
Then, he turned back toward the double bed against the wall, noting its width.
Finally, he lowered his head again, carefully studying the quiet female corpse lying under the bed.
And behind that female corpse—
The face of a man, motionless, staring straight at him.
A man wearing glasses, half of whose face looked like smashed building blocks rearranged in the wrong order, smeared with black-red clotted blood.
If his life were a novel, Takumi swore he'd hunt down the author and slap that bastard to the floor a few times.
Damn it—first came that ghost thing in the corridor that instantly wiped out three nobodies before anyone could even see its face, then the door-knocking trio whose attack drained everyone's sanity—and just when he'd finally managed to secure some temporary safety using the scene's rules, now you give me a corpse-staring event? Could you maybe have some mercy on my heart?!
If I get scared to death, what are the readers supposed to do, huh? Switch to a new protagonist? Let me tell you, swapping protagonists is a super toxic move—you absolutely can't do that! Take it from me, a failed author who's been through it all!
The stream of complaints flashed through his mind at lightning speed.
Yet Takumi's face remained expressionless, calm as ever.
He knew the man behind the woman was already dead—another corpse.
Or at least something with corpse-like traits: no breathing, wounds fatal enough to kill any human.
But he also knew that damn thing was watching him right now.
The man's one remaining intact eye was wide open, fixed on Takumi's face.
Takumi shifted slightly—
And the male corpse's head followed silently, turning with him, gaze never wavering.
The thing's hiding spot was nearly swallowed by darkness.
If Takumi hadn't noticed something wrong and looked carefully, he never would have found it.
Even after realizing it was there, he didn't dare expose it.
Having faced two previous attacks from the supernatural forces haunting this apartment building, he deeply understood that whatever dwelled here wasn't something ordinary people could fight.
For now, the corpse just lay there quietly—but if it decided to rise later, everyone present could easily be wiped out.
"Let's go. Nothing worth seeing here—just a corpse. Head to 210; maybe we'll find some clues there."
Lowering the sheet to cover the body under the bed, Takumi stood up as he spoke, then turned toward Kaguya and silently mouthed three letters: S-O-S.
Understanding at once, Kaguya gave the double bed—looking perfectly normal—a brief glance.
Then she lowered her eyes to the blonde woman still clamped by the mouth in her grasp, whose cheeks were reddened from the pressure.
After a moment's thought, Kaguya spoke coldly: "I'll release you now. As long as you don't make stupid noises or get in our way, I have no interest in dealing with you."
As Kaguya said this, she loosened her grip on the woman's mouth slightly.
"You… what do you want? I don't have any money, I'm really poor—please don't kidnap me…"
The Ice Princess's intimidation skill was clearly over level 80. The freed woman was so terrified that tears streamed down her face, yet she didn't even dare cry aloud—only whispering weak, trembling pleas, nearly dropping to her knees.
"No one's interested in kidnapping you. Open your eyes and take a good look—we're just like you, trapped here. Let me make this clear: the reason we're not leaving you to die isn't out of charity. If you can't prove your worth, that corpse just now will be your fate next."
While speaking, Maki stuffed the documents she'd found in the bookcase—unsure how useful they were—into her backpack, then opened the living room door to step out first.
"What… what the hell do you people want? I've got no quarrel with you…"
Yamamoto Hiroshi, who had been crouched by the wall, stood up then. Shielding the softly sobbing blonde woman, he finally couldn't bear it anymore and spoke angrily.
'What a hassle.'
Takumi felt that deep down—it was pure trouble.
He suddenly realized why Tanaka had chosen to deceive someone and leave alone—he simply didn't want to take on this mess.
For those caught up in the strange rules of the Sacrifice Game for the first time, unaware of how dangerous this place truly was, they still tried to handle things with everyday reasoning and common sense, unable to understand the terror that a single wrong step could lead to instant annihilation.
Takumi wasn't some altruist. Honestly, he really wanted to just let these people go die on their own, like he'd done last time.
But the problem was—those who died in this apartment didn't rest in peace. They turned into incomprehensible monsters that would follow the living's tracks, causing enormous trouble in all subsequent actions.
Intervening was bad, ignoring them was bad—barely an hour into this seven-day game, Takumi had already experienced the full malice of this scenario.
"Mr. Green, did you bring a knife?"
Then came Shinomiya Kaguya's cold voice.
"I did."
Green immediately drew a 15-centimeter-long dagger from his waist, its blade clearly sharpened—gleaming with a chilling glint even in the dim room.
"Hold him. Take him out. If he dares make a sound, cut out his tongue."
Issuing the order with icy calm, Kaguya didn't even glance at Yamamoto Hiroshi, merely gave Takumi a signal before stepping out.
Takumi followed right behind her. After a moment's thought, he gave the blonde woman in the corner a gentle smile and asked, "Will you come out on your own, or shall I come invite you myself?"
He thought his tone sounded perfectly normal.
Yet the woman burst into tears, covering her mouth as she stepped out—looking as though she'd just been threatened by a serial killer.
As for Yamamoto Hiroshi, though he wanted to resist out of pride, when Green stabbed his knife into the wall beside his head—less than a centimeter from his ear—he nearly pissed himself. Face crumpled in fear, he obediently followed them out.