Becoming the killer themselves.

  “It’s a possible way out,” Ives said. “But we shouldn’t consider it unless necessary.”

  In the stillness of the office, she gazed up at the white-haired man. Ace stared at her for a long second, then flipped close Tinope Res’s diary. He cast his eyes towards the door.

  “They’ve been awfully quiet.”

  “I’ll go see what’s up,” Ives said, unknowingly releasing a breath. “Plus, we need more concrete information. We’re restricted to this office and the waiting area, but there has to be something we’re missing.

  “I’ll go have another talk with the other players outside. You search here.”

  Ace’s response was a curt nod as Ives crossed back into the waiting room.

  Upon opening the door, however, she was confronted with a strange sight. The atmosphere was unexpectedly calm—relaxed, even. No tense chatter about the [MAIN QUEST], no frantic brainstorming to beat the countdown.

  Instead, the three of them, Jaymes, Masen, and Carrie, either sat or stood in subdued conversation, as if the looming time limit were nothing more than afterthoughts, as if they were simply coworkers hanging around after a routine meeting.

  Under normal circumstances, with the countdown to an impending failure ticking away, she’d expect most Labyrinth participants would be anxious, discussing strategies or at least engaging in the investigation to protect themselves. Yet here, aside from short remarks here or there, they seemed oddly unhurried.

  Yet, while she and Ace were in the office investigating, the attitudes of these three were leisurely at most.

  Carrie glanced up briefly, offered a faint smile, and then returned to flipping through her phone without a word of concern. Masen paced near the corridor, half-heartedly rearranging files but never quite moving. And Jaymes… he sat off to one side, arms folded, eyes watchful but not exactly alarmed.

  “Strange,” Ives murmured under her breath.

  Did they not care about the danger of the situation, or do they simply trust her and Ace this much to find the truth?

  Over by a stack of pamphlets, she noticed Tammy standing with a receiver in his hand. Ives drifted closer, hearing the man set down the tool with a click. Catching sight of her, Tammy held it at his side, wearing an apologetic look.

  “We tried to keep it discreet by hiring a private detective,” he told her quietly, “but the higher-ups are worried. I’ve asked official authorities to step in.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You… called the police?”

  Tammy shrugged, half regretful. “They asked me to contact the official authorities. So I did.”

  Ives frowned. “And they’ll arrive… when?”

  “In around an hour.”

  A cautious glance flicked to the [MAIN QUEST] clock in the corner of her vision, and Ives felt her stomach clench. In less than an hour, the Labyrinth’s [MAIN QUEST] would expire—and now the police would converge on the same timeline.

  This could get messy.

  Still, she said nothing, only giving Tammy a stiff nod. He drifted away to the side, leaving her to observe the others.

  As she continued making conversation with the players, she couldn’t help but feel an indescribable incronguity about this entire situation. She forced herself to maintain a pleasant expression while conversing with Carrie, who responded with minimal interest. Nearby, Jaymes paced near the doorway, evidently restless, while Masen frowned over documents at a side table.

  After a moment, Jaymes let out a groan and marched toward the door, as if intent on leaving altogether—only to be reminded by Tammy that everyone had to remain here until the police arrived.

  “He’s right,” Ives said from behind. “If all the clues are in these rooms, perhaps it’ll be more useful for you to do some investigating here instead.”

  The man swirled around at her words, leveling Ives with a half-lidded gaze.

  “Well, aren’t you invested?” he said, letting out a cold, humorless laugh.. “I thought you’d be bored of all this by now. Scurrying around for a solution after everything he did to you?”

  Ives blinked. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “Huh. Maybe you forgot. Memory loss is a real nuisance.” There was a veiled contempt in his eyes that made her skin prickle.

  A jolt of alarm spiked in Ives, but she schooled her features. Did he know something about Tinope’s real relationship to her?

  The Labyrinth [ROLE] designs messing with his mind might have coughed up additional recollections. Or he could be spouting lines to distract her.

  She opened her mouth to probe further, but a spike of unease in her chest made her hesitate.

  From the far side, Masen spoke up, telling Jaymes to stop inciting more tension.

  “We don’t need more mess than this,” he said, eyeing Ives with a subtle sigh. “Tinope wouldn’t have—”

  “Tinope?” Ives spun towards Masen at his words, but the man merely averted her gaze, refusing to say more. Like Jaymes, he seemed also to bear more knowledge than he’d let show at the beginning of the Labyrinth.

  Ives forced herself to remain composed, recalling an old piece of advice Edris once gave her—knowing your own state of mind was half the battle in the Labyrinths. Be aware of yourself, then how you fit in the context of your surroundings—as long as you succeed with that, things cannot go very wrong.

  She willed her pulse to slow, analyzing the suspiciously calm behavior of these three players. It nagged her that none of them ever mentioned well-known Labyrinth elements—like how they got their [CARDS] or the typical approach to side quests. It was as though they’d never done any of that.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She had to swallow back a wave of alarm. What if Jaymes, Masen, and Carrie weren’t real players? The idea made her heart pound. They don’t show the slightest worry about the countdown. The conversation about Tinope’s death felt almost routine to them. Were they illusions, or labyrinth natives adopting these [ROLE]s?

  A swirl of conflicting thoughts bubbled. She needed to talk to Ace—quietly.

  She turned, taking a step toward the door leading out of the waiting room. Before she got more than a pace away, Jaymes rose from his seat, crossing to intercept her path.

  “Where are you off to now, hmm?” he said, voice low but laced with curiosity. The question carried a threatening edge.

  Ives attempted a calm smile—one she’d honed from observing Edris’s tact.

  “Just going to check something in the other room,” she replied. “You can’t leave anyway, so it’s no concern of yours.”

  She angled her body so she could slip past him, but Jaymes only tilted his head, still blocking her route.

  “No need to rush, is there? After all—” his lips curved in a mirthless smile “—it’s not as though you don’t already have Tinope’s favor, right? Or did you forget you were the one he put all his hopes in?”

  She frowned. Something about his tone was off, as if mocking her for Tinope’s apparent favoritism. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”.

  He let out a brief laugh. “A bit forgetful, are we?” He leaned closer, a glint of suppressed jealousy sparking in his eyes. “Maybe it’s the memory loss you keep talking about.”

  A prick of unease tightened in her gut. Why was the man talking about Tinope Res as though he really knew him? The Labyrinth’s structure should have rendered each player with only [ROLE]-related memories, yet he sounded personal, as if Tinope’s family drama was truly his own.

  She attempted to sidestep him again, but he swung an arm out. “I’m not finished. You think Tinope’s special treatment was fair? That he left me and others in the cold, just because you waltzed in as his new favorite?”

  Ives exhaled, forcing her voice to remain measured. “I never asked for his favoritism. Now step aside.”

  Jaymes’s gaze flicked over her shoulder toward the office, then back to her, eyes narrowing. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She tried to twist away, but he seized her wrist in a flash of aggression. The odd half-smile remained, though it flickered with frustration. “I wonder if you really recall what he did to you. Maybe not, right?”

  Ives’s pulse pounded. “Jaymes, let go,” she warned, tension coiling in her voice.

  He didn’t budge, and before she could react, he shoved her sharply. The movement was sudden, catching her off guard. She stumbled, feet tangling beneath her, and fell backward, colliding with the floor in a jarring thud that knocked the breath from her lungs.

  The world roared in her ears as a thousand images broke loose in her mind. She glimpsed syringes on sterile tiles, Tinope’s figure leaning in with that paternal smile that never felt quite real, and for a second, she forgot where she was.

  Those weren’t her memories, yet for a moment, they felt no different from her own.

  And within the surge of visions, she saw herself holding a knife.

  Her chest constricted. A scalding ache thrummed behind her eyes, as though the Labyrinth itself punished her for digging up forbidden truths. Dazed, she forced her gaze up at Jaymes, who still loomed over her with a frustration she couldn’t fully grasp.

  He grabbed her arms, pinning her down.

  “Feeling faint?” he asked, tone mocking, as though relishing her vulnerability. She struggled, but her arms were leaden, her muscles slack with shock. Something in Jaymes’s eyes flickered—a mixture of mania and triumph. In the chaos, he spat out clipped, incoherent words about Tinope’s “favoritism.” She barely caught half of it.

  He’s not normal.

  That was the only thought in Ives’s head at that moment.

  A shaky cry tore from her lips as her [AFFINITY] plummeted—she felt physically weaker, her vision tunneling at the edges. She thumbed through her [PROFILE], summoning the interface that allowed a “player invitation.” If he were indeed just an ordinary Labyrinth player, this function would confirm it.

  Her trembling fingers hovered, but after a moment, the message blinked back:

  She stared, mind reeling. That meant only one thing: he had assimilated already.

  But since when?

  Maybe the Labyrinth had devoured him from the start. Maybe Tammy’s meddling had sped it up, illusions choking them all. She wasn’t sure, and the confusion made her head spin.

  Any further thought was torn away by a sharp clamor—the office door was shoved open, slamming against the wall and nearly cracking it open.

  Ace strode in, face set in a calm stoicism. He took in the scene at a glance and said nothing before he moved. With one swift yank, he tore Jaymes away from Ives, smashing him backward into a desk. Jaymes gasped, stunned as he took time processing what just happened.

  Behind them, the other “players”—Masen and Carrie—saw their chance and lunged to intercept, assimilation deadening any normal reason in their eyes. Ace wheeled, hooking a chair leg in one hand and launching it across their path. The wooden frame crashed into them, tangling their advance. They stumbled and cursed, momentarily incapacitated. The entire sequence lasted mere seconds, swift and brutal.

  Tammy hovered near the door, flinching as the commotion burst around him. He had wanted to intervene but was paralyzed by the raw, merciless precision in the white-haired man’s movement. There was no hesitation on Ace’s face—he looked utterly indifferent to whether he hurt them or not.

  “On your feet,” Ace told Ives curtly.

  He yanked the seven-year-old upright with his free hand—her knees nearly buckled, but he steadied her, waiting for her to recover.

  Across the room, Jaymes gathered himself in a huff, gaze blazing, but he found Ace’s stare pinned on him the next second. Jaymes faltered, lips twisting in frustration. Before he could risk another assault, Ace’s dark eyes shifted from him to the man by the corner.

  He strode forward and grabbed Tammy grabbed him by the collar.

  “You’re coming too.”

  With Ives and Tammy in tow, Ace wrenched open the door leading back to Tinope’s private office. The moment they had enough space, Ace hauled Tammy in first, Ives stumbling next to him, then slammed the door shut. The bang reverberated like a final verdict. None of them dared speak.

  Ives’s breathing was harsh, her chest still tight from the shock of recollection, but Ace pressed a hand to her shoulder, guiding her behind Tinope’s massive desk.

  The safe on the wall stood slightly ajar, revealing more than just dull metal behind it—there was a gap. A hidden space.

  “This way.”

  Ace didn’t pause for debate. He dragged the safe door fully aside, revealing a narrow opening.

  At the sight of the hidden spot, Ives turned to stare at Ace, who only gave her a brief nod. She then looked at Tammy, whose expression bore no surprise at the sight.

  He knew about this hidden path.

  As if sensing her demand for an explanation, Tammy stepped back with a soft sigh.

  “I can explain.”

  “In first,” Ace said curtly. “We don’t have much time.”

  Tammy didn’t dare refuse, not after seeing how quickly the man had neutralized the others. He swallowed hard, following his lead along with Ives, deeper into the office’s hidden corridor.

  The passage was dim, a cramped, winding corridor lit by only a single overhead bulb. They stumbled through in silence, adrenaline snapping at their nerves. Ives clutched at her raw memories, replaying Tinope’s twisted “kindness,” the bitter taste of chemicals, the shock in his eyes when she stabbed him.

  Finally, the corridor ended at a solitary door. Ace pushed it open with caution, stepping into a dark room dominated by a single bed, a weak lamp perched on the side table. The figure on the bed was barely more than a silhouette. He lay supine, breathing shallowly, bandages across his torso.

  She had never truly met him in her conscious memories—and yet, the moment Ives’s eyes fell on him, she recognized him immediately.

  That shape, that face worn with quiet regret.

  Tinope Res.