The entire game would last for five hours, in which they had time to figure out the codes and get ready in their chosen rooms to hide in. They had already spent an hour, but even with one clue solved, it still led to many possibilities.

"Where two opposite meets; if one is present, the other disappears," Bree read the clue for the nth time. "If I go to the kitchen, my hunger will be overtaken by the feeling of fullness."

"And if you go to the bedroom, sleep is present when being awake isn't," Ashlyn continued.

"Then the bathroom and laundry room takes the dirty and make it clean," Ethan added quietly.

"Is the room with the trap among the ones mentioned just now?" Ginny questioned curiously, her eyes frantically shifting from one person to another. Holding her focus on one person was nearly impossible when she feared the discovery of the truth for Shirley's death written on her gaze.

"Presumably, but the clue is too vague to draw conclusions from," Bree spoke. She seemed to have taken on the motherly role in Shirley's absence, but was much harsher and less gentle. "We need to rely on the bunch of letters or numbers to get a better picture of the answer."

The task was easier said than done. They had no idea where to start. Were the two clues solved using the same method, or was it different? Were they perhaps related to one another, or had they no correlation?

"Damon, wouldn't you know something about this?" Mark suddenly questioned. He sat on the dining chair lazily with his back slouched back he was nearly falling off, and his arms folded together. His eyes, however, was challenging the latter.

"If I do," Damon responded with an equally rivaling tone, "What makes you think I would share the information with you?"

To this, Bree was the one who answered by violently grabbing him by the collar. "Have some sense of unity! People are dying one by one if you don't help us out!" She was gritting her teeth so tight her gum might have shattered.

Damon smirked, slapping her hands away from him. "Isn't that exactly the intention?"

Bree was so close to use physical force to shut him up—to knock some sense back into his brain. But Shirley'z still small voice echoed in her mind, reminding ber not to opt toward violence. She held back.

"Can't you at least give us a clue?" Mark asked.

They would suspect Damon to lie by now. He seemed like the type who would sabotage others' plan in order to have his will be done. They weren't aware they had already fallen victim to his lies and manipulations since the very first game.

"It is a cipher," Damon spoke, staring straight into Mark's eyes with so much confidence laced in his hesitant voice. It gave the effect of knowing and not knowing what he was doing at the same time.

"You're lying!" Bree uttered condemningly.

Madison was quietly observing the situation and the way Damon responded to everything. His face muscles were too relaxed if he was trying to lie. He was trying to make them think he was lying though; he didn't meet anyone's eye and faked a hesitant tone. He showed all signals a liar would behave with under interrogation, something a criminology major was aware of.

"No," Madison suddenly said, earning a more surprised look from Damon. There was something about his eyes that invited her to trust him. "He is speaking the truth."

"Why would you say that?" Natasha asked, confused.

"I am a psychology major. I can understand the way people think and why they end up doing what they do," Madison said with a proud smile. She turned to Damon once again who did not look too amused. Perhaps he had been underestimating her.

"If I was speaking the truth, I wish you luck on identifying what the cipher is. There are multiple ciphers in existence." Damon wasn't planning to give out any more details, or to even work together with them.

***

Ginny had followed Damon and asked him to come to the study room. She had grown fond of the place ever since knowing there was a grand piano present inside. At night, she would come down to play her favorite piece of music.

Damon watched her take a seat, placing her delicate fingers on top of the white keys before she began pressing them with such tenderness. He had heard her play before—the exact same piece he had found her humming in her room.

Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata was supposed to sound emotionally depressing. The way the movement opened with an octave for the left hand and a triplet figuration for the right created a melody recognized as a lamentation. The weeping and crying woven together within a harmonious yet dissonant tune.

There was, however, something more disturbing about the way she played the soft starting chord in a loud mezzo forte. The usual slow tempo piece became an irky song with no consistent tempo throughout. Even to those with no understanding of music such as Damon himself, one would feel mentally disturbed.

Damon got up, watching Ginny's entire body arch backwards and forwards, being one with the frantic tune she was playing. In fact, it was so disturbing it seemed like the music was taking control of her and not the other way around. The notes were rigid. The sound was loud. The chords were twisted.

Damon grabbed both her wrists, stopping her irrational playing. The girl lifted her head quickly to meet his face, and he saw her tear stained cheeks.

"I heard that music is used to express its player's current emotion," he said softly, feeling the trembling in her hand. It was so subtle he barely missed it. "What are you expressing?"

Ginny raised her eyes to meet him secretively, quickly casting her gaze aside when she realized he was looking at her. She could never be as strong and determined as he was.

"I am scared," she whispered, voice cracking. It took no longer than a second for the tears to wet the corner of her eyes as she shut her eyelids tightly. "I am scared..."

Damon was at a loss. His eyes scanned the girl whose shoulders began bouncing up and down to perpetuate her cries. It was his fault. He was the cause of her fears. He was the reason for her tears. He turned the human being into a monster.

"Be strong," Damon whispered, not knowing what kind of gentleness inhabited him when his arms encased itself around Ginny's petite body. His hand moved to caress the back of her head as he made incoherent shushing noises. "I am going to make sure we'll both win."

Ginny's crying halted as she pulled away to look at him in surprise. Her eyes were swollen and her nose bloated red in color. She parted her lips, but no words appeared.

"We will both win this game," he murmured.

Because he was as much of a monster himself. And perhaps the creation of another monster was just to compensate for his sick and twisted mental state. There was someone else on the verge of becoming as corrupt as he was.

He was no longer alone.

***

Shirley's bedroom was neat and tidy, like the person once inhabiting it. Her luggage was still neatly placed inside the small wardrobe where she had organized the pair of clothes she brought along. Her room was very empty, except for the big scorpion poster occupying one part of the wall. It was so edgy and the complete opposite of what Shirley's personality was like.

"Why is this bedroom marked, out of all or bedrooms?" Ashlyn suddenly questioned as they were inspecting possible locations where they could hide in. They were searching for a flaw, or for something that would give away an answer.

"I wonder whether this room would've been marked if she was still..." Madison's voice hitched, trying to find the right words to say without bringing herself to tears. "With us."

Bree and Ashlyn gave the younger girl a sympathetic look, both quickly hugging her for comfort. The loss did take a toll on everyone.

"We should inspect and see if the room has anything suspicious," Ethan reminded them of their main mission. He walked to every corner of the room, trailing his fingers over the soft plastered wall to find a lump. But everything was very balanced and made of the finest wallpapers. He found no flaws.

The others roamed around the room, inspecting the smallest areas in all the hidden places. There was no possibility for any dangerous situation taking place no matter how many times they replayed different what-if scenarios in their head.

"It makes me question the credibility of Ginny's words," Madison suddenly spoke, and the rest shot her a look of curiosity. "She said an arrow appeared out of nowhere and suddenly hit Shirley."

"She did have a bow and arrow in her room prior to that game," Bree remarked, seeing the disettlement written on Madison's face.

Madison pursed her lips, meeting Ethan's eyes that had been staring at her in silence. He looked rather worried, perhaps because he had the same concern as she did. How trustworthy was Ginny, really?

"This room seems safe. One of you can take it," Mark concluded after observing the room for at least three more times.

"What about you? Why don't you want this room?" Bree questioned. She couldn't help but question everything. One could never be too cautious.

Mark frowned at the condemnation thrown against his good intention. "I do not think it would be polite if either me or Ethan stayed in this room considering it once belonged to a female," he then explained himself, watching the tense muscles softening on Bree's face.

"Bree can stay here, and I will take the laundry room," Ashlyn concluded. Prior to this, they had also inspected the room and found it to be safe of any possible scenarios.

Bree clicked her tongue, giving a reluctant nod. "But just to be sure, maybe we should try to solve those two letter clues as well."

"You guys can work on that as Maddie and I will inspect the attic. We haven't gone there yet," Ethan suggested.

His words made Madison jolt her head to him, pressing her lips together to stop the blush from forming over her face. Ever since his heroic deed to save her, she couldn't stop thinking about him or all the little things he said to her. She couldn't even stop her heart from fluttering at a mere eye contact.

"Is that okay?" He then asked for her consent.

Madison nodded, perhaps a little too eager.

"We'll be in here until the timer tells us to move to the chosen rooms," Ashlyn said. She moved to the place where Shirley usually kept all the blank sheets of papers and stationeries, taking a heap of it and placing it in front of the others.

"Let's solve this puzzle."

***

Ethan remembered the way to the attic. He remembered the way to nearly every accessible part of the house, even if he had only set foot on it once. He was holding Madison by her wrist—a move which made the girl's heart go berserk without him intending to—and led her to the corner on the opposite wing from where their rooms were located at. The attic was accessible through the stairs hidden beneath a secret latch. There was a small rope dangling, resembling the olden style light switch string to flick it on and off, but much thicker and sturdier.

He turned to Madison, making sure she was okay before he continued. He finally noticed her cheeks were reddened while her head was bowed down watching their hands. As an immediate response, he quickly let go, looking fairly awkward himself when she searched for his eyes.

"I- I was afraid someone would try to hurt you if I let go. Sorry."

The sound of her vibrant chuckle filled his ears, always so nostalgic and pleasing. She showed a complete different response than what he expected; no resistance or complaints regarding his action.

"Thank you," she uttered instead. And those words of gratitude alone made him wonder whether it was alright to continue protecting her in that way.

He quickly shook those thoughts away, stretching his hand upwards to reach the dangling cords. He caught it in his grip and exerted all force to pull it down. A hidden latch opened itself, revealing an ascending staircase that led to the attic.

"After you, milady" Ethan motioned a royal curtsy to her, and she laughed again.

"Thank you, sire," she played along, grabbing his hand for support. He swiftly followed her from behind, making sure they both wouldn't lose their balance as they climbed upstairs.

The attic was sealed by the same yellow colored windows that limited their view of the outside world. It still penetrated enough light to brim up the entire attic with a warm glow. The dust was floating around visibly, and one cough led to more dust being set off in the polluted air.

The center of the place was empty, showing the visible wooden texture coating the floor. Pushed against the back of a corner were a lot of boxes and wooden chests. Multiple random items were dumped inside. None of it were the objects needed for their deadly tag game.

"The game master must've been here recently," Madison suddenly remarked, taking bold steps towards the boxes. The floor creaked eerily with every move, but it didn't scare her or made her the slightest bit more cautious. Either she was careless or had too much faith the floor would sustain her.

"What makes you say that?" Ethan asked, remaining still in place.

"There are no spiderwebs, so someone must've cleaned it." Madison grinned at him and knelt down in front of a box. "Unless you decided to clean up the place when you checked it out the first time."

Ethan couldn't help but chuckle at her observation. She paid no attention to him and continued rummaging through the boxes and wooden chest. He wondered how much protection she truly needed when she was such a curious and adventurous soul herself. Maybe he worried too much simply because it was Maddie.

"I'll go through these boxes and you can check out the rest of the room," Madison instructed him.

"The rest of the room?" He raised his eyebrow.

She halted her movements and frowned at him. "Yes."

"This is the rest of the room," he said with a grin, holding his arms up to the empty space, "And there is nothing."

"Come on, just inspect the walls," she whined at him with a smile suppressed behind her lips. She heard him laugh faintly before starting his diligent inspections on the monogamous wall and windows.

Madison focused on the chest again, gathering weird ornaments she had no use for. There was a photo album, but blank pages inhabited it. There were Christmas decorations: colorful slingers that no longer retained its once vibrant colors, Christmas balls with shattered glasses, entangled LED lights with missing light bulbs, and a beheaded angel statue that would go at the top of the tree had it still been angelic. It made her wonder whether this house of trap was once inhabited by the Game Master and his family, if he had one. And if he did, what had happened to them.

Her mind was being carried away to the psychological aspect of the situation. Instead of finding possible weapon hideouts, she now tried to find more hints of people inhabiting this place prior to their stay. She looked at the photo albums once again, carefully analyzing each page instead of skimming through. There were traces of tapes left behind on several pages her careful eye managed to pick up on. The photo album wasn't empty, it was emptied.

"Ethan, found anything?" she questioned, still scanning through the album.

"No, how about you?" He asked, noticing her looking up to meet his eyes, like she was caught in the act of a horrible deed.

"Nothing," she answered sternly, blinking her eyes several times. "I'd like to hide in the attic."

Ethan frowned, adorably tilting his head sideways. "Why?"

"I think it's safe here," Madison said, for the first time lying to him. She didn't know what prompted her lips to refuse telling the truth. A part of her knew that Ethan would be worried or wouldn't have allowed her if he knew what she was up to. But if she managed to find an emotional connection and understanding to the Game Master, maybe they had a chance to stop him and obtain freedom without completing the game.

"Alright," Ethan easily agreed. "I think so too."

"You can go ahead. I want to stay here," Madison continued, seeing that worried look sinking in his face. She had to convince him to leave.

"But—"

"I'm fine, really." She smiled at him reassuringly.

Ethan's eyes fell on the empty book she held open on her lap and then met her smiling eyes once again. He finally nodded, telling her to be careful before he descended down the stairs.

***

Loud music was blaring from the kitchen through speakers that sounded like the expensive Dolby Sound System. It was a great feature Oliver had installed to his laptop—Jay and Natasha decided to keep it instead of leaving it in the garage where the poor owner was killed. They still had no idea who would commit the murder, and decided to trust no one.

The lonely kitchen was filled with upbeat music and the scratching of shoes against the floor. Natasha's breathing was heard when she flowed her body to the song, synchronizing to becoming one entity. Her tied up ponytail flicked with the slightest movement, flowing along gracefully with every turn she made. She looked so gorgeous when she was doing the thing she loved. The scared and fearful girl transformed into a fierce woman she was known for.

Once the music stopped, a loud applause came from the door. Natasha turned sideways to see Jay leaning against the doorframe, smiling proudly at her.

"As expected from the star performer," he said with an exaggerated tone.

Natasha smiled, displaying her pink gums. She approached him and pulled him by his arm. "I could use a dance partner for the next act," she told him playfully.

"No, I can't." Jay was putting half effort to prevent her. His mouth said no, but his body was slowly being carried by the music. "I haven't danced in so long."

"Then dance right now, and you have danced recently," Natasha said, laughing as he snorted at her silliness. She let go of his arms, knowing through those eyes that he was picking up the rhythm and beat of the song.

It didn't take longer than a split second for Jay to start flowing his body along to the beat of the song. He lightly bit on his tongue and began panting heavily through his nostrils—a habit he had whenever he was being carried away by the dance.

Natasha started cheering for him, applauding him from the sideline to increase his confidence. They weren't all too different, after all. Dancing had always been more than a hobby. It was their remedy. It was the only medicine that could heal their heartaches, and the only distraction deemed successful to keep their minds away from unwanted thoughts. The fast paced heartbeat was what calmed down their pulse from anxiety.

The music stopped and Jay ended in a chic pose, beaming when Natasha had that proud smile on her face. For a slight moment, it felt like the old times.

"You should've pursued dancing. This is where you belong, not in marketing," Natasha said with slight disgust in her voice. She slid down against the wall behind her to sit on the kitchen floor.

"My parents didn't let me, you know that." He copied her movements and sat down next to his friend.

How could she ever forget? The day Jay announced he won't be taking the performing arts major with her was the day he went on the camping trip with them as a sign of protest against his parents. He thought being in the presence of close friends and having fun would eventually take his mind off his parent's disheartening decision. Little did any of them know, the night would end up in flames. It marked the beginning of going their separate ways.

Natasha stretched her legs in front of her, flashing a grin from ear to ear. The pretentiousness was a distraction for herself. "Do you like studying marketing?"

"I hate it. And just when I thought I couldn't hate it more, I do."

She chuckled, feeling sorry for him. After the incident, Jay came to realize the grim consequences of following his free will. Afterwards, he was traumatized to rebel or show any form of disagreement towards his parents.

"Truly a boo-hoo story."

The two looked up from the ground, watching the newcomer staring blankly at them from the doorframe. Damon had his arm folded and his lips pressed together into a thin line. He seemed to have something important to say.

"So, have you chosen the kitchen?" He asked, watching the two help each other get back on their feet.

"It seems like the safest place," Natasha argued. Because none of the lettered clues contained any letters related to the word 'kitchen.' Based on those poor reasonings, they believed it was safe.

"Hm," the corner of Damon's lips lifted into a crooked grin, "You must be so lucky, Natasha."

"Why?"

"Because your best friend is the seeker. Wouldn't he choose to save you first rather than risking the possibility of losing you?"

The other two frowned, focusing on what the other had to say.

"Even if I got convinced that another room was the trap, how would I be sure I guessed the correct answer?"

"Are you saying you know the answer?" Jay asked.

"I'm saying I know which rooms are not the answers," Damon corrected him. A smirk ghosted over his lips in amusement. "This room remains a big possibility to being the trap."

With that eerie piece of information, Damon left the two in apprehension. There was suddenly a new dilemma arising in their moral, questioning how selfless one had to be. Would he sacrifice one person for the greater good of others or save one person at the consequence of others? Deciding the fate of the hide and seek game became yet another impossible task.