The time for the first collection of answer sheets was drawing closer and closer, and everyone was growing increasingly anxious. There were no leads, no clues, and something akin to a college entrance exam countdown was hanging over their heads.

Under such high pressure, there would always be someone desperate enough to try anything.

When Brian Baker came down from the attic, the pregnant woman John Baker was dipping her finger into a small black bottle, about to write something on the answer wall.

A strong sour stench wafted from the bottle, like low-quality ink left out for too long, but the color was a bit different from ink.

Maybe it was the dim lighting, but it looked tinged with a rusty brown.

“Am I… is it really okay for me to write like this…” John Baker looked uneasy, her voice flustered, as if seeking confirmation from the others. “This doesn’t really have anything to do with physics, right…”

“The question doesn’t give any information at all, who knows what will actually score points!” A bald, short, middle-aged man cursed with a sullen face: “I suspect there isn’t even a damn correct answer! It’s blank now, and after six hours it’ll still be blank, either way someone’s going to die.”

He glared at John Baker again: “Got the guts to write? If not, I’ll do it!”

John Baker shrank back, but her damp fingers still touched the wall.

She drew two strokes, but found that the liquid on her fingertips left no trace on the wooden-stone wall—the marks vanished the instant they were made.

There was also a faint sound of water.

It was as if the answer wall… had swallowed it.

“I—I can’t write anything…” John Baker panicked.

“How is that possible! Not enough ink?” The bald man strode over, dipped his whole finger deep into the ink bottle, and pressed hard against the answer wall.

The result was exactly the same as before.

The long downward stroke hadn’t even finished before it disappeared.

That faint watery sound flickered again.

The bald man stood there stunned for a moment, then suddenly lost control: “No way… how can it not write? It must be not enough ink… not enough ink… yeah…”

He reached out to grab the ink bottle.

Just as he was about to splash the whole bottle on the wall, someone suddenly pressed down on his hand.

He turned his head and saw Brian Baker looking down at him, face cold and impatient as he barked, “Don’t lose it, there’s something wrong with the wall!”

The bald man instinctively struggled a couple of times, his face turning red, but he couldn’t pull his hand free.

“William Baker.” Brian Baker turned his head, “Give me the hemp rope by the wall.”

The bald man’s face was red and his neck bulged as he resisted: “What are you doing?!”

With one hand, Brian Baker deftly tied a knot, looped it around him, and with a pull… bound his arm and hand together.

William Baker was stunned: “Bro… what did you used to do? How are you so good at tying people up?”

Brian Baker shot him a glance with his light-colored eyes.

Only then did William Baker remember… maybe even his brother didn’t know himself.

The bald man was tossed onto the broken sofa, and Brian Baker screwed the cap back onto the bottle of “ink”—whatever it actually was.

The moment the cap was tightened, everyone in the room heard a faint sigh.

“Who?!”

Everyone’s hair stood on end.

After the last bit of stain on the answer wall disappeared, a new line of text suddenly appeared where it had been blank:

Violation Warning: Unapproved exam stationery used. Invigilators have been notified.

Invigilators: 001, 154, 922

Suddenly, the sound of a rooster crowing rang out in the room.

William Baker was so startled he almost crowed along. He grabbed his brother’s sleeve, shrinking his head and peering toward the source of the sound.

He saw the rooster hanging on the door, its neck twisted at a grotesque angle, its lifeless eyes staring at the main entrance.

Brian Baker lifted his foot to walk toward the door, with William Baker clinging to his sleeve like a dead weight, trying to hold him back. In the end, he was dragged along to the door.

Outside the window, in the raging blizzard, three figures silently approached.

The one in the lead was very tall, with short black hair and a fitted coat. Even from the silhouette, you could tell he was upright and imposing. As he reached the door, a gust of wind blew sideways, snow swirling into his eyes.

He lowered his head and blinked lightly, snowflakes sliding from his brows. When he looked up again, his dark eyes reflected a hint of snow, meeting Brian Baker’s gaze inside the room.

Almost unconsciously, Brian Baker touched his earring.

William Baker whispered in his ear, barely louder than a mosquito: “You don’t know him, do you?”

Brian Baker frowned and replied quietly, “I forgot.”

Chapter 3: Confinement┃How about you sleep a little longer??????

From where he stood, the man in the lead was probably Invigilator 001.

He looked like a traveler seeking shelter from the snow, glancing around the room as he took off his black leather gloves. He smiled and said, “Not bad, you know how to make a fire. The snow outside is pretty heavy, it’s cold coming all the way here.”

No one smiled back.

Most people in the room shrank back a little.

He acted as if he hadn’t noticed their reaction, walking over to the stove and warming his hands by the fire. The smile still lingered at the corner of his lips, carrying a lazy, mocking air.

The snow on his shoulders and collar slowly melted, leaving damp marks that gradually dried by the heat.

Everyone stared at him, but no one dared to speak.