Chapter 1: Arriving at the mansion

— Well then, now that almost all participants are here... — The Guide sighed theatrically, as if closing the final page of a book, — ...allow me to take my leave.

— Wait. — Hov's voice wasn't a question — it was a knife. — What did you just say? *"Almost all"*? What other participants? Am I... not alone here?

— Ugh-hah-ghah-hah-gh... — He laughed as if laughter were his native tongue and everything else just a dialect.

— Stop it, you bastard! — Hov snapped. His fist clenched on its own, his fingers finding the Guide's collar as if they'd been searching for it since the boat. — I endured you for twelve goddamn hours! On this fucking boat! And if you let out that idiotic laugh one more time, I'll drown you in this imaginary ocean myself.

The Guide smiled. Or smirked. Or bared his teeth — it was hard to tell.

— Still don't get what kind of game you've been dragged into, do you, pitiful mortal? — His voice turned icy. — At no point did I ever say you were the *only* guest. Before you, I delivered three others. *Three*, Hov.

— Explain. What the hell is going on here? What fucking game?

— Yes, yes, just... — He twitched, squinting slightly as if from neck pain, — do kindly let go. Truth be told, I'm stunned by your... how should I put it... *intellectual transparency*. I offered you chances to ask questions. And what did I get in return? Your heroic silence.

— Except now, unfortunately for you, I can't explain a thing. No time left. But don't worry —you'll find the answers yourself. Assuming you live long enough.

— So you're leaving? I thought you were part of this whole circus.

— Me? — He feigned surprise, as if Hov had suggested a nude chess match. — No-no, I'm just the Guide. Nothing more. My job is to deliver. Like a courier. Except instead of packages — it's people. And instead of a schedule — chaos.

— Good to know you're at least honest about how useless you are.

— Ah, Hov. — The Guide closed his eyes, clasped his hands as if in prayer. — Touched. Your contempt is like fate's slap to my face. By the way... will you miss my voice?

— I'll be glad to never hear it again.

— Agh... hurts to hear after twelve hours together... we're practically a couple in honeymoon hell...

But Hov didn't answer. He just turned and walked toward the forest, thick as unspoken words.

— Farewell then, demon of darkness, come to this island in search of truth... — The Guide's parting words carried a note of something almost sincere.

A shiver ran down Hov's spine.

The wind picked up.

Leaves danced like madmen without music.

— Wind's getting stronger. Looks like tonight... won't be particularly peaceful. Well, screw it. — He quickened his pace.

*"The Guide said the mansion's through the forest. Straight ahead. No turns. Turn — and I die. Got it."*

— Strange... — He stopped, flexing his palms. — No strength left. Empty. No magic, no resonance. So that's how the system works here. Rules.

— Doesn't matter. Answers are what count.

He walked on, ignoring the wind.

*"One year ago. My wife. Final weeks of pregnancy. Everything was fine. Doctors assured us. 'Everything will be normal. Everything will be normal...'*

They lied.

Nothing was normal.

The labor lasted eight hours.

She didn't make it.

*"I wasn't there. Didn't hold her hand. Didn't say 'thank you.' For anything. Only after — too late."*

Tears rolled on their own, as if they knew the way.

He wiped them away.

Steeled himself.

And kept walking.

The game was about to begin.

The mansion loomed larger than he'd imagined. Imposing as a memory that refuses to fade.

*"Important people must've lived here. Or... no. This is an illusion. A ghost. What sane person lives on an island that doesn't exist?"*

— Wind's picking up... should get inside before the rain. — He muttered to himself, as if someone were listening.

Inside the guest hall, the other three were already waiting.

Silence.

So thick you could sit on it.

— I-I can't believe... — one finally gasped. — What the actual hell...

— Did that psycho slip something in my drink before we got here?

— Calm down. — The second speaker cut in. — Nobody drugged you. Everything you see is real. However much you wish it weren't.

Hov froze.

— Y-Yahweh? But... you died! You died back then! How is this possible?! And... the Creator?! What's he doing here?! We killed him! And... that girl. Never seen her before. What fresh madness is this?

— This isn't an illusion. — The Creator said calmly. — The girl's another participant. Just new.

— Yes... we died. — Yahweh confirmed with the voice of a man robbed of life but not memory. — And now... we're alive. Here. Don't ask how.

— Have a drink. Rest. There's even champagne —the cook's doing, I'm told. — He added.

As if this were some dinner party rather than a cursed resurrection.

— The cook?.. So there are others here?

— Not exactly. Servants. Three of them. They're not players. Just... pieces in this game's machinery.

Hov sank into an armchair. His body had tired before his mind.

— You must be exhausted. — Said Yahweh. — We were in shock too. Rest helps.

— How can you be so calm?! You were dead! Now you're not! And we're on a ghost island where time doesn't even exist!

— Because... — Enua began, matter-of-fact as someone explaining how to fry potatoes. — We've already been briefed.

The game won't start until the final participant arrives.

— Time... — Hov muttered. — There is none here.

— Exactly. Can't even check the stars. They're... also missing.

Silence.

Deep as the void outside the box.

— Fine. — Hov grunted. — I'll look around.

At that moment, two figures entered. Servants. A young woman with chestnut hair and... a brother?

— Welcome. You're the fourth participant, yes? — She asked politely.

— Y-yes. Hov.

— Pleasure. I'm Morgana. This is my... uh... brother.

— Don't call me brother in front of guests! — Sheryl hissed, clearly panicked.

— I'm Sheryl. Attendant of this mansion. — He exhaled with practiced deference.

— Skip the titles. Just Hov.

— Alas. We're not permitted such informality. We're tools. — Morgana stated. No irony. Dead serious.

— Follow us. We'll show you everything you need.

And so the tour began.

— Is this... a mansion? Or a castle?

— Built by the island's owner for his wife. Out of love. To the point of madness.

— Wait... if the island doesn't exist, and the box is temporary, this mansion shouldn't either.

— Correct. It exists... and doesn't. Like Schrödinger's cat, only more tragic. After the game, everything vanishes.

— Then... inside the box is just emptiness?

— Mostly. But not for you. For you — it's reality. For others — nothingness.

— Fine... the participants then. I saw dead men. How?

— Part of the game. — Morgana explained. — The island's mistress resurrects the dead. All participants.

— Mistress? Where does she get that power?

— The owner's wife. He built this castle for her. Was obsessed. Madly so.

— And he sealed her away?.. His own wife?

— Precisely. — Sheryl whispered. — Out of love.

He continued, voice of a man paid not in wages but in fear:

*"They were happy. Until she wanted to leave the island. He panicked. Forbade it. She pleaded. He snapped. Found grimoires. Learned magic. Then... bound her. By force. Forever. She died... in those chains."*

Silence.

Heavy.

Alive.

— W-we apologize... he shouldn't have... — Morgana bowed.

— No... it's fine... just... — Hov shut his eyes. — Too much for one evening.

— She gets resurrected too. — Morgana reminded. — Every time. Before the game.

They were shown the rooms next. Bedrooms, shower, toilet, kitchen. Everything a normal place would have. Yet nothing was normal.

— Your room has a phone. Call if needed. We're available 5 AM to 9 PM. After that — we rest.

— Three meals daily. More if required. The cook doesn't sleep. — Sheryl added before both vanished.

*"Mansion's layout makes sense. But... the story... strange. And how do they know all this? The Guide clearly wasn't some ancient guardian...*

*Whatever. Not important now. Just need to wait for the last participant."*

Four people.

Waiting.

The game was about to begin!