Chapter 53

Chapter 53: Setting Fifty-Three

Setting Fifty-Three: Supernatural Research Club (Part 6)

Three switches downstairs, in random order, controlling the lights in three rooms upstairs—and only one chance to go check?

The shadow’s final words caught Shan Ziwei’s attention. Just as he was processing it, Tapioca let out a snort of laughter. He blinked, noticing everyone else had relaxed expressions, sharing a knowing look.

“This puzzle… it’s a freebie.”

“This one, huh…”

“Ah, memories—this takes me back.”

The girls chattered away. Shan Ziwei was full of question marks—was there some background to this puzzle?

Hyacinth was the first to notice his confusion—and she was the one surprised. She adjusted her glasses: “Don’t you remember? It’s the question from Basic Learning!”

He understood immediately. In Earth Year 83, education had completely changed—no more separate subjects like languages, math, or English. Instead, it was divided into three stages: Basic, Intermediate, and Advanced. Basic was roughly elementary to middle school, using the textbook Basic Learning. Anyone who’d been through Federal education would know that question.

But he didn’t. His 200-year-old diploma predated all that. He hadn’t even graduated Basic—only passed a kindergarten-level general knowledge test.

The antique from two centuries ago felt a chill down his back: “Y-yeah, I don’t really remember.”

Seeing his confusion wasn’t fake, Hyacinth glanced at Crimson Rose and quickly explained.

“To test the light sequence, just turn on any two switches. Wait 10 minutes, then turn one off. Go upstairs and check: if the light is on, it’s obviously the one that was left on; if it’s off, feel the bulb—based on temperature, you can tell which switch controls it.” She adjusted her glasses habitually. “Basic Learning, Book 2, Chapter 3, Section 4—you didn’t study carefully enough.”

He kept his eyes down: it wasn’t that he didn’t study carefully—he’d never studied it at all.

“The only issue is—who’s going?” Crimson Rose said lightly. “I’ve heard the rooms are pitch black.”

Tapioca had been eager, but she faltered at those words. In a horror Chessboard, feeling around in total darkness was terrifying—not just the oppressive dark, but what if you touched something you shouldn’t? A cold hand, sticky fluid, a warm pulsing organ, a stiff corpse… The more she thought, the more afraid she became. It was a test of Diamond SP resilience.

Silence fell. Crimson Rose quietly looked at Host and Shan Ziwei. Though she said nothing, it had a silent urging quality.

He scratched his face. He hadn’t wanted to speak, but being pushed around like this got old—even a clay figure had its limits.

“Actually,” he said, pointing at the grinning shadow, “It never said only one person could do it, right?”

The girls froze. They realized he was right. Why had they missed that? Because the Basic Learning question was about one person; they knew it by heart and immediately applied the memorized answer without further thought.

“At first I thought it was a solo task too—but when it added conditions, it said ‘you all,’ expanding it to the whole group.” He analyzed calmly. “With so many of us, we can split into two teams: one goes up to check, the others stay down and flip the switches sequentially. The upstairs team memorizes the order, comes down, and compares notes with the downstairs team.”

Host, who’d been silent, asked: “What kind of lights are upstairs?”

The shadow swayed its head, humming: “What lights~ what lights~ why don’t you go up and see for yourselves~”

Though Host’s question seemed aimed at the shadow, it struck Hyacinth and the others hard.

Right—what kind of lights were upstairs?

Wall lamps within reach? Ceiling incandescent bulbs? Or cold lights that don’t heat up?

They didn’t dare think further and hurriedly approved his plan.

With a plan, things were simple. Shan Ziwei and the Milk Tea twins went up to check; Host and the Mystic Garden team stayed in the electrical room to operate the switches. He hadn’t really wanted to go up—that painting on the second floor still haunted him—but he couldn’t command Host, and the other girls weren’t familiar with the layout. In the end, he resigned himself to leading.

There was a small hiccup along the way—the three of them paused at the bottom of the stairs. After seeing the Noh mask’s memory, passing that hammer-and-axe decorative weapon made everyone uneasy.

But people are contrary—the more you don’t want to look, the more you do. Milk Tea couldn’t resist a few extra glances, then gasped.

Tapioca jumped: “What?”

Milk Tea pointed at the axe, not the hammer.

“That axe… looks familiar.” She thought for a moment. “Isn’t it the one the headless man was holding?”

“Now that you mention it—yeah!” Tapioca agreed in surprise.

He was surprised too. Girls were more observant—the headless man had appeared briefly in the mirror, its axe mostly covered in blood, yet Milk Tea had recognized it from fragments of patterns.

That made the grand, even splendid decorative weapon even more chilling. His heart pounded—they knew how “Mother” died, but what about “Father”? What about the “child” who’d caused it?

“Let’s hurry—Crimson and the others are waiting.” Tapioca couldn’t stand it anymore.

The three went upstairs. The second floor looked the same as he’d left it—the lights still sputtering in the corridor. He quickly glanced at the end—shadow upon shadow, revealing nothing. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or more anxious.

Turning, he saw Tapioca and Milk Tea frozen before the first vase on the right, staring in horror at the painting.

Confused, he looked—and his expression changed. Previously blank black, the painting now had vivid content: in the dark background, a girl sat before a vanity mirror; behind her stood a crooked-necked, slumped-shouldered figure, like a shadow; the girl’s reflection was frozen in utter despair.

“Is that… Xiao Ye?” Tapioca’s voice trembled. “And that crooked-necked one… is ‘Mother’…?”

He spun to look at the symmetrically placed painting on the left—it too had new content: a girl sitting amid gore, hollow eyes weeping blood, mouth split to her ears, gutted and open; scattered organs—hers or someone else’s, impossible to tell.

A chill shot up his spine. He steadied his trembling Diamond SP—what was this? Painting their “deaths”?

He was furious—and terrified. The six symmetrical paintings along the corridor seemed to foreshadow the fate of their “Supernatural Research Club.” If this was meant to scare them, it had succeeded. The paintings weren’t demons or monsters—they were his dead companions, people he’d just spoken to, whose gruesome deaths he’d witnessed.

Look—two of them had died horribly. Was he next?

As panic spread, the light in the second room on the right came on. He rallied himself, reassured Tapioca and Milk Tea, and looked inside—they only needed to note the lighting order, but this was also a chance to check the layout for a suitable room.

One look and his Diamond SP took another hit.

It was an ordinary guest room—standard bed, wardrobe, nightstand—but one object stood out among the cozy furnishings.

The light—it was made from a human head!

No wonder the shadow said they’d become its “lights” if they failed—this was how!

At first glance, it looked like a head hanging midair, its black hair tangled with wires, light shining through hollow eye sockets. The head-lamp was clearly inspired by jack-o’-lanterns—a bulb hidden inside the skull.

Milk Tea shuddered; Tapioca broke out in cold sweat. If they’d followed their initial assumption, whoever went up would face a human-head lamp—not impossible to solve, but would they dare to lift the “lamp cover” and touch the bulb inside in the dark?!

The more she thought, the more her stomach churned—she could almost feel the cold, clammy skin on her hands. Tapioca couldn’t take it anymore; she pulled Milk Tea back and whispered, apparently restoring Diamond SP through some relationship role-play.

He endured the discomfort and scanned the rest of the room—except for the wardrobe, it was bare of clues.

Then the light in the first room on the right came on.

He looked—same setup, same head-lamp. The second time wasn’t as shocking; he could already complain internally. Another guest room, identical to the second—likely the third would be the same.

His expression turned strange. Was it just him, or did this layout feel… familiar?

To be safe, he waited for the third room’s light before leading the twins downstairs. Only when they rejoined Host and the others did he truly relax, letting out a long breath.

Tapioca and Milk Tea took turns describing what they’d seen. Crimson Rose listened, nodding, comforting them, then looked to Hyacinth.

Hyacinth had already reported the correct switch-room correspondences to the shadow. Its mouth first curved down in disappointment, then up.

“Alright—as promised, here’s your reward.”

Clink—a key fell to the ground. Shan Ziwei, closest, picked it up.

“This is the key to the recreation room—second room on the left upstairs.” The shadow faded, its malicious grin growing sharper: “You wanted to play games? That’s the perfect place—”

It vanished, leaving the players staring at each other. They had no better options—65 minutes until 7 PM, and the kitchen still silent. They unanimously decided to check the recreation room.

Though they’d heard Tapioca’s description, Crimson Rose and Hyacinth still wept at the second-floor paintings, reacting less strongly to the head-lamps. They stopped before the second door on the right—this time, Shan Ziwei had the key, so he stepped forward.

Click.

The door opened. He found the switch and turned it on.

Purple-red light flooded the room, a bit harsh on the eyes. As the shadow had said, the recreation room was very spacious—a pool table in the far corner, a small bar diagonally across, an open dance floor in the center with a disco ball overhead and no furniture.

“Can we play here?” Tapioca stretched on tiptoe to look past him. “Mirror Ghost or Wall Touching?”

He quickly stepped aside to let the girls through. Tapioca’s breath had brushed him a little; the purple-red light hid his blush.

“There are some items in the corners that would interfere with Wall Touching—but the open space is good for Mirror Ghost.” He rubbed his warming face, ready to slip away: “I’ll go get the mirror—”

Host caught him by the collar mid-stride. A bad feeling rose. Under everyone’s watch, the black-haired youth’s hand reached straight into his collar, fingers moving from one side to the other—as if wiping away something unclean.

His face instantly flushed so red even the purple light couldn’t hide it. He was about to explode when Host turned to stare at Tapioca.

“You were too close to him.”

Tapioca’s face was a mask of horror.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Whatever Host’s expression was, Tapioca scurried behind Milk Tea like a startled deer: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t mean to!!!”

Shan Ziwei, who’d just recovered Diamond SP: “…”

Everyone else, in desperate need of sunglasses: “…”

Ten thousand words couldn’t describe his feelings. The fact that he’d forgotten Host’s hand was still inside his clothes said enough.

He’d known this moment would come when he used [A Possessiveness (Passive)], but it was still so humiliating—he wanted to die, to disappear from the world…

He couldn’t blame Host—he was just helping him recover Diamond SP. So with a look of noble resignation, he addressed the others, each word dripping blood.

“You understand.”

—This was a shameless game with a pile of shameless Relationship Settings.

Milk Tea made an awkward noise, glanced at Host as if reading his meaning, and nodded carefully: “I understand…”

Even Crimson Rose and Hyacinth nodded after looking at Host.

Shan Ziwei had never been more dumbfounded.

What do you understand? What did you understand?!

Why do I feel like what you understand is completely different from what I meant???