Inspection and Discovery

　　Aiden froze on the stairs, listening. It was definitely a dragging sound, but the rhythm was regular, methodical, as if someone were systematically moving furniture.

　　The sound began at the far end of the hall and was gradually making its way toward his room. Aiden remembered what Jack had said—the statue pointing to the inn meant the rules here were about to be adjusted. It was likely that Martha, as one of the few lucid residents, was preparing for it.

　　He walked up the stairs quietly, wanting to understand what was happening. When he reached the second floor, he saw the door to Room 5 was ajar, a soft noise coming from within. He crept over and peered through the crack.

　　Martha was busy inside. She was checking the seal on the windows, adjusting the position of the bed, and sprinkling salt in certain corners. Her movements were professional, clearly born of long experience with this kind of work.

　　"Martha?" Aiden called softly.

　　Martha turned, visibly relieved to see him. "Mr. Aiden. You're back just in time. I'm checking every room."

　　"Because of the change with the statue?"

　　"You noticed." Martha nodded. "Whenever it points here, I have to conduct a security check of the inn. Some rooms need their protective measures updated, and some equipment needs to be recalibrated."

　　Aiden followed her to the next room. "Does this happen often?"

　　"About once every two or three months. The statue cycles through the main buildings in town, and each time, it means the rules for that area will be adjusted." Martha opened the door to Room 6. "I need to ensure my guests are safe, especially newcomers like you."

　　Aiden watched as Martha expertly inspected every corner of the room—checking that the mirror was intact, the radio was in its proper place, and the salt circles needed replenishing. He was beginning to realize that these seemingly simple arrangements were actually a carefully designed system of protection.

　　"Does my room need checking?" Aiden asked.

　　"Of course." Martha picked up a toolbox filled with various items. "Every room does. When the statue points this way, certain hidden threats can become active."

　　They arrived at Room 7. Aiden unlocked the door and let Martha inside. She went first to the radio, confirming its position and condition, then checked the mirror for cracks, and finally examined the window and door frames with care.

　　"Your salt circle is well made," Martha noted, pointing to the salt around the radio. "It does offer extra protection. But I need to make a few adjustments."

　　From her toolbox, Martha took out several thin strips of birch wood and placed one in each of the room's four corners. Then she sprinkled a special blend of herbs on the windowsill, which gave off a faint scent of mint.

　　"How long will these measures last?" Aiden asked.

　　"Until the statue changes direction again," Martha said, carefully inspecting the door lock. "Usually between twenty-four and seventy-two hours. During that time, you might experience phenomena you haven't encountered before."

　　"Like what?"

　　Martha paused her work. "It could be subtle changes to the room's layout, strange sounds, or an increase in... visitors. The key is to remain calm and follow the rules strictly."

　　She gestured to the *Newcomer's Guide* on the desk. "If you encounter a situation not covered in the guide, remember a few basic principles: do not initiate contact with unknown phenomena, do not leave your room at night, and do not trust any entity that claims it can 'help you escape.'"

　　Aiden nodded, committing the principles to memory.

　　"And one more thing," Martha said, taking a small bell from her toolbox. "Hang this on the doorknob. If someone tries to enter your room during the night, the bell will warn you."

　　Aiden took the bell. Its material was strange, feeling warm and smooth to the touch. "Will this really work?"

　　"In this place, everything has a reason for being." Martha packed up her toolbox. "I need to continue checking the other rooms. You can rest, but remember—tonight will likely be more unsettled than usual."

　　After Martha left, Aiden sat in his room, turning over the experience in his mind. He was starting to understand how this place operated: though filled with danger, it also had corresponding mechanisms of protection. Administrators like Martha worked to ensure that those who followed the rules could survive.

　　More importantly, he realized his own understanding of the rules was still shallow. Jack's theories about "layered rules" and "living rules" now seemed undeniably real. This wasn't a static set of regulations, but a complex system that adjusted itself in response to its environment.

　　Aiden examined the new protective measures. The birch wood gave off a faint, pleasant aroma. The herbs on the windowsill looked natural in the afternoon sun. The bell on the doorknob chimed with a clear, crisp sound when he nudged it. These details made the room feel safer.

　　The church bell chimed outside: one o'clock.

　　Aiden remembered Jack's advice—to check his room and surroundings for anomalies. Now was the perfect time for a detailed observation.

　　He went to the window and watched the street below. The behavior of the "residents" was definitely different today: some moved more slowly, while others were completely still. Stranger yet were new details he hadn't seen before—several black birds perched on a telephone wire, their shadows forming odd patterns on the ground.

　　Aiden took out a pen and paper and began to record his observations. If Jack was right, and a test event was coming within the next 24 to 48 hours, these small changes were likely the precursors.

　　After documenting the street, he meticulously checked every item in his room. The radio was still silent, but the color of its indicator light seemed a shade redder than yesterday. The mirror was flawless, but the angle of its reflection felt slightly different. The Guidebook on the desk was in the same spot, but when he opened it, he found the text on certain pages had grown sharper, as if the ink had re-thickened.

　　What struck him most was that the room's overall layout felt more harmonious. The position of the bed, the arrangement of the furniture, even the distribution of light—it all felt more rational, as if Martha's inspection had included some kind of optimization.

　　The afternoon sun streamed through the window, and everything seemed peaceful. But Aiden knew this peace was likely the calm before the storm. According to Jack's observations, the real tests usually happened at night.

　　He decided to use the remaining daylight to prepare: rereading the safety rules in the Guide, checking his protective supplies, and creating a contingency plan. Most importantly, he resolved to remain alert, but not to let anxiety overwhelm him.

　　The sky gradually darkened. Though there was no true sunset to see, the changing light and the atmosphere on the street signaled the approach of night.

　　After the eight o'clock bell, he heard Martha's final movements from downstairs—the closing of the front desk drawer, the extinguishing of some of the lobby candles, and her footsteps ascending the stairs to her own room.

　　The nine o'clock bell rang, and the inn fell silent. But this silence was different from usual. It was a tense, expectant silence, as if the entire building were holding its breath for what was to come.

　　Aiden noticed the temperature in the room begin to drop slowly. Not a sudden chill, but a gradual, almost imperceptible change. The small bell on his door would occasionally give a faint, tinny jingle, as if stirred by an unseen draft.

　　Around nine-thirty, the radio began to act up.

　　It didn't turn on suddenly like last night. Instead, the indicator light began to blink at an extremely slow frequency—a one-second flash, followed by a thirty-second pause.

　　The ten o'clock bell rang, marking the official end of Martha's services for the night. On the final echo of the chime, the change in the radio accelerated.