'Disguise' did not answer directly, but merely handed her another small piece of chocolate: "Replenish some energy. Don't think too much, save your strength, and stay alive. As long as you stay alive, there will always be a chance to see the person you want to see, or... to figure out the things you want to figure out."
Stay alive. These two words seemed so heavy at this time, yet so important.
Ooka Momiji gripped the chocolate, looking at 'Disguise's' calm and determined profile, a surge of complex emotions in her heart. In this golden cage full of malice and suspicion, this unexpected gentleness and support from a 'fellow woman' was exceptionally precious. She was completely unable to perceive what kind of eyes, seeing through everything and full of amusement, were behind this gentleness, or what kind of true hunter had grasped all of her fragility and longing.
Kanjuro (under Disguise) watched Ooka Momiji gradually relax, even developing a look of dependence on him (her), his heart calm and without ripples. The chess piece was moving step by step toward the intended position according to his will. And this survival game, due to his intentional or unintentional 'intervention', would become even more treacherous and unpredictable. Outside the Library, the pressure for survival was still intensifying, and the darkness of human nature was accelerating its emergence. And in this chaos, a pair of invisible hands had already begun to pluck the key strings. Days passed slowly and heavily amidst hunger, thirst, and ubiquitous suspicion. By the fifth day, the atmosphere inside the mansion had tightened to the extreme. Food and water in the public areas had long since vanished, and the resources hidden by individuals were mostly consumed. Conflict was no longer limited to glances and pushing; it began to evolve into small-scale physical struggles and threats. In the corners, one could occasionally see someone silently licking an empty wrapper, their eyes hollow or flashing with a crazed green light.
Ooka Momiji felt as if she had caught an unexpected piece of driftwood in a storm. Ever since receiving help from "Disguise" in the Library that day, this seemingly cold but actually meticulous (in her view) female detective seemed to appear intentionally or unintentionally whenever she needed it. Sometimes she would "happen" to find some canned food forgotten in a corner of the kitchen and share half with her; other times, when she was about to be surrounded by ill-intentioned people, "Disguise" would appear with that reassuringly calm demeanor, forcing the others back with concise, powerful words or a cold gaze.
Under the care and cover of "Disguise," although Ooka Momiji still felt hunger and fear, her initial feeling of complete, helpless panic was gradually replaced by a strange sense of "security." She began to follow "Disguise" more proactively and even shared some of her thoughts and observations. She felt that Miss Disguise was not only capable but also possessed a wisdom that saw through people's hearts, making her rely on and trust her involuntarily.
This afternoon, they temporarily hid in a recess of a remote corridor to avoid a heated argument that had broken out over half a bottle of mineral water. The sounds of the argument gradually faded, and the corridor returned to an oppressive silence.
Ooka Momiji breathed a sigh of relief and whispered to "Disguise," who was standing against the wall and vigilantly observing the end of the corridor, "Miss Disguise, it's a good thing you're here. Otherwise, I really wouldn't know what to do."
"Disguise" withdrew her gaze and looked at her, her eyes still holding that deep calm. "It's just surviving. You've become much steadier than before." Her voice wasn't loud, carrying a hint of approval.
A faint, weary smile appeared on Ooka Momiji's face: "Mhm... maybe it's because I feel like I'm not completely alone anymore. I used to always rely on Saguru, but now..." She didn't finish, but the meaning was clear; although Saguru Hakuba tried his best, he couldn't provide the same kind of substantial protection and resources almost around the clock like "Disguise" did.
Hearing this, "Disguise" shook her head slightly, the corners of her mouth seemingly curving into an extremely faint, almost helpless arc. She took a step closer and lowered her voice, her tone becoming exceptionally serious, even carrying a hint of a warning:
"Momiji, having confidence is a good thing. But in this place, never be too naive."
Ooka Momiji was stunned and looked up, meeting "Disguise's" eyes, which appeared exceptionally deep in the dim light.
"What... do you mean?"
"Disguise's" gaze swept across both ends of the empty corridor, her voice as soft as a whisper: "Be careful of those around you. Anyone."
Ooka Momiji subconsciously defended Saguru Hakuba: "Saguru? No, Saguru is a very good person. He's always taken care of me and is trying to find a way..."
"I'm not just referring to Hakuba-kun." "Disguise" interrupted her, her eyes sharpening. "Everyone here, including those who seem the most harmless, the most cooperative, and even the most pitiful, can turn into a 'bad person' you can't imagine when faced with the instinct for survival. For an extra sip of water, an extra biscuit, or simply to eliminate a potential competitor... human nature is the most unsustainable luxury here."
She paused, her gaze seemingly unintentionally brushing past the direction of the distant hall, where muffled crying and angry curses could be heard.
"Look at those people. A few days ago, they might have been greeting each other politely. And now? Remember, Momiji, in this game where only 'one person' can survive, no one is an absolutely reliable ally. Trust is the most dangerous thing here."
These words were like a bucket of ice water, dousing the small spark of warmth and reliance that had just ignited in Ooka Momiji's heart. She couldn't help but shudder, once again feeling that bone-deep cold and isolation. She followed "Disguise's" gaze, seeing only a shadow filled with hostility and despair.
"But... Miss Disguise, you..." She looked at "Disguise," her eyes complex, containing both reliance and a hint of instinctive unease stirred up by these words.
"Disguise" looked at the panic and doubt flashing in her eyes and sighed softly, a sigh that seemed to contain endless vicissitudes and insight. "I'm helping you for my own reasons. Perhaps, as I said, seeing someone else who is also waiting... but that doesn't mean I don't have my own considerations, nor does it mean I am absolutely safe." Her words left room for interpretation, even deliberately revealing a hint of vague danger, which instead added to the realism and weight of her words.
"You must learn to see with your own eyes and judge with your own mind. Don't let down all your guard just because of a temporary kindness," "Disguise" said finally, her tone returning to its previous calm but sounding more earnest. "To survive, you must not only fight external dangers but also see clearly... another form of trap that may exist right beside you."
After saying this, she spoke no more and signaled Ooka Momiji to follow as they continued moving toward a relatively safe area.
Ooka Momiji followed silently, her mind in a mess. "Disguise's" words echoed repeatedly in her head. Be careful of those around you... anyone... trust is the most dangerous thing... The sixth day. The Twilight Mansion was like a giant beast that had devoured too much despair and death. Even the air had become murky and heavy, filled with the smell of rust, dust, and a faint, indefinable scent of decay. The original twenty detectives and related personnel, crushed by the pressure of survival and Renya Karasuma's cold rules, had seen their numbers dwindle at a chilling rate.
The hidden broadcast hanging high above, like a counter for the Grim Reaper, periodically and coldly announced the remaining number of people.
"Current number of survivors: fifteen."
"Current number of survivors: twelve."
"Current number of survivors: nine."
Every time the broadcast sounded, it was like a dull knife scraping against the hearts of the survivors. The methods of death varied: some were killed or fatally injured in conflicts over food and water; some were found lying in remote corridors or rooms with unknown causes of death, perhaps with signs of struggle, or perhaps just having closed their eyes peacefully; there was even one person who reportedly triggered a hidden anti-theft mechanism while trying to climb out of a high window and was impaled by sharp iron bars after falling... Fear and suspicion had swallowed most people's reason. The efforts that had once been made to maintain order had long since vanished. Everyone was like a startled bird, overreacting to the slightest movement.
Under the subtle protection of "Disguise," Ooka Momiji barely managed to remain in a relatively safe state. But "Disguise's" warning still rang in her ears, making her distrust everything around her, including her own growing reliance on "Miss Disguise." This feeling of intertwined reliance and suspicion left her exhausted.
This afternoon, "Disguise" stated she was going to scout a secret passage that might lead to a storage room (where legend had it there might still be a small amount of stored food). She told Ooka Momiji to stay temporarily in a compartment in the Library and instructed her not to open the door for any strangers, no matter what. Ooka Momiji nervously agreed.
However, not long after "Disguise" left, there was a gentle knock on the Library door. A male voice that sounded somewhat weak and anxious came through: "Miss Ooka? Miss Ooka, are you in there? I'm someone who worked with Miss Disguise before... I'm injured and need help. I... I saw Miss Disguise go that way, and she seems to have run into trouble too!"
Hearing that "Miss Disguise ran into trouble," Ooka Momiji's heart skipped a beat. Her concern for "Disguise" instantly overrode her vigilance. She hesitated for a moment but finally carefully pulled open a crack in the door.
Standing outside the door was a man who looked somewhat familiar. He seemed to be a detective with some local fame and had appeared quite refined before. Now, his face was pale, he had abrasions on his forehead, and his clothes were in disarray. He was clutching his right arm with his left hand, and blood seemed to be seeping from between his fingers. His eyes were filled with pain and urgency.
"Quick... please help me, Miss Ooka. I'm bleeding a lot... Miss Disguise is in the southwest stairwell. She seems to be trapped by something and told me to come find you for help..." the man said, panting. His body swayed as if he were about to collapse.
Ooka Momiji's compassion and concern for "Disguise" took over. She quickly pulled the door open: "Come in quickly! Where is the stairwell? What happened to Miss Disguise?"
The man stumbled through the door. Just as Ooka Momiji turned to help him or look for something to use as a bandage, a sudden change occurred!
The pain and weakness on the man's face vanished instantly, replaced by hideous greed and ferocity! His "injured" right hand suddenly pulled out. What he was holding wasn't blood at all, but a rag dyed with red ink! Simultaneously, his left hand clamped over Ooka Momiji's mouth and nose like an iron vice from behind, while his other hand quickly strangled her neck!
"Mmph—!" Ooka Momiji's eyes widened in terror. She struggled desperately, but the disparity in strength was too great. The man dragged her deeper into the shadows behind the bookshelves, whispering in a suppressed, excited tone: "Don't blame me... little girl... blame these damn rules... You don't look like much of a threat, but who knows if you'll stab me in the back? Better to deal with you first... You should have some food on you, right? Or, I'll use you as a hostage and see what that Disguise, who's always protecting you, can offer in exchange..."
The sensation of suffocation and the fear of death instantly overwhelmed Ooka Momiji. She kicked and hit out in despair, her fingers trying to claw at the man's arms, but to little effect. Her vision began to blur, and the only things she could hear were the man's heavy breathing and the thundering of her own racing heart. She regretted it—she deeply regretted not listening to "Miss Disguise" and easily trusting a stranger... Was she going to die here like this? Die under such filthy deception and violence?
Just as her consciousness was about to fade—
Thud!
A muffled sound was accompanied by the crisp sound of a bone breaking.
The force strangling her neck suddenly vanished, and the hand covering her mouth and nose let go. Ooka Momiji slumped to the floor, coughing and gagging violently, tears blurring her vision. She looked up with difficulty and saw the man who had been so ferocious just a moment ago now slumped under a bookshelf two meters away in a bizarre posture. His neck was twisted unnaturally to one side, his eyes were wide open, and he was already dead.
Standing beside the man's corpse, slowly withdrawing her hand, was "Disguise," who had returned. Her (his) expression was still that same almost icy calm, but deep in her eyes, something extremely cold seemed to flash by. The hem of her (his) trench coat fluttered slightly. That clean, decisive, and instantly fatal hand chop just now had been so fast it was almost a blur.
"Miss... Miss... Disguise..." Ooka Momiji's voice was hoarse, trembling with the shock of surviving and disbelief.
"Disguise" walked over, knelt down, and carefully checked the bruises on Ooka Momiji's neck. After confirming she was not in serious danger, she spoke: "I warned you not to trust anyone." There was no blame in her tone, only a flat statement.
"I... I thought you were in danger..." Ooka Momiji's tears finally burst forth, a mixture of fear, lingering dread, and immense grievance. "I'm sorry... I was too stupid..."
"Disguise" was silent for a moment. She reached out and gently wiped away the tear tracks on her cheek with her thumb. The movement was not gentle, even somewhat stiff, yet it carried a strange, reassuring power. "Stupidity sometimes means you still retain your humanity," she (he) said enigmatically. Then she stood up and pulled Ooka Momiji up as well. "But here, humanity is often fatal. Let's go. We can't stay here."
Just then, the cold broadcast once again echoed through the Mansion:
"Current number of survivors: eight."
Ooka Momiji trembled all over and subconsciously moved closer to "Disguise." Eight people... from twenty to eight in just six days. And there was only one day left until the seven-day limit. What crazy things would the remaining people do for that single chance at survival?
She didn't dare imagine it. At this moment, her only thought was to cling tightly to the person in front of her. Any doubt, any warning, in the face of the real threat of death and the fact of being saved, had become irrelevant. In her most desperate moment, "Disguise" had appeared like a guardian deity, snatching her back from the Grim Reaper with absolute strength. This shock and gratitude, mixed with the reliance of many days, now turned into a near-blind trust and sense of security.
"Miss Disguise... I... I'll listen to you from now on." Ooka Momiji tightly gripped "Disguise's" sleeve, her voice still sobbing, but her gaze was firmer than ever before. "I only believe in you."
Kanjuro (in Disguise) looked at the complete trust and dependence in Ooka Momiji's eyes, knowing that this "hero saving the beauty" act had exceeded expectations. Fear and gratitude are among the most effective shackles for controlling human hearts. Ooka Momiji, as a chess piece, had now almost completely fallen into his palm. Whether as a chip to restrain Saguru Hakuba or a "collector's item" that might serve other purposes in the future, she was now sufficiently mature.
He (she) nodded and said nothing more, simply leading Ooka Momiji quickly out of the Library, leaving behind that gradually cooling corpse as another insignificant footnote to this cruel game.
Deep in the mansion, the shadows grew even thicker. The remaining eight people were like the last few wild beasts trapped in a golden cage, the air between them thick with the smell of blood and the dead silence before the final battle. And the true hunter, still wearing the skin of the prey, walked among them, patiently waiting for the moment to deliver the final blow to the "king of crows" behind the scenes, and... the moment to harvest all the spoils. Less than twenty-four hours remained until the end of the game.
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